I recently upgraded my desktop computer. I found an old folder of “unpublished” musings when transferring files. In it, I found the following essay. It was written in 2001 for a book of essays I’d started but never completed.
My palms were sweating; I could barely swallow. I was praying that the bottle would stop on her. If so, indeed, she'd have to kiss me.
A feeling of joy and disgust seized me. Could I possibly go through with it? Were the gods of necking on my side, or was I destined to be humiliated again? I pushed all negative thoughts out of my mind. I would deal with my fate.
I took several deep breaths and spun. D-day. Oh, boy (gulp). The bottle was staring directly at Heather Bigelow and her laser green eyes, flaming red hair, and a multitude of heavenly freckles. To me, she was the hottest babe in my sixth-grade class, the victim of my constant reverence.
She refused. She didn't want to kiss me!?! And she was visibly upset about something. I was ruined for life. The word "R-E-J-E-C-T" immediately appeared in big pink letters on my forehead.
It had to be my braces. I damned my parents for talking me into them; buckteeth couldn't be so cruel. She probably imagined her lips being sliced to shreds by the metal barbed wire in my mouth. I vowed right then and there that I would never allow myself to be humiliated by a girl again.
This business of romantic rejection is always a challenging lesson. Then again, romance by itself, sans the rejection, is challenging. Let's face it: we have all encountered similar situations of utter and complete devastation when shunned by members of the opposite sex. They can be tough lessons regardless of experience or age.
I believe romantic rejection can be broken down into two distinct camps: "Rejectee"—the one being rejected, and "Rejector"—the one doing the rejecting. We've all been members of each base, and I bet that "rejector" is the preferred position. Let's face it: you certainly have more control over a romantic affair if you reject it first.
I am, unfortunately, a proponent of the "rejectees" of my species. From Heather to my present predicament, I have remained a punching bag in all my relationships. Perhaps I am prone to such romantic folly for some emotional karma crime I committed in another life. Maybe I jilted some king's daughter during the 16th century, and it's time for my karma to even up the score. If this is the case, will I spend the rest of my days wandering the Earth in search of a rejection-free love feast or doomed to repeated beatings by the karma police?
Men, after all, are such emotionally delicate creatures concerning matters of the heart.
My friend Leah maintains that rejection for women is far more intense than men's. I beg to differ. Most men have been conditioned their entire life to pursue women. From that first crush on your grade school teacher to the first time you ask for a woman's hand in matrimony, rejection lurks behind every pursuit. After all, in most social and cultural circles, men do the asking when it comes to wining and dining, making sexual advances, or, say, watching football games together on Sunday.
If a guy is rejected by the woman he's been agonizing over, the emotional damage can be permanently irreversible. It may take hours before he asks another woman out.
My buddy, Richard, has had a horrendous time with women the last couple of years. He was rejected by his previous girlfriend two years ago and still hasn't recovered. He and Amelia lived together for three and a half years with relatively few problems. Well, one day, she left. Just like that. No bona fide explanation; nothing. Plus, she got ugly, a truly uncivilized maneuver for someone you've shared your deepest fears with. The she-wolf sent him back everything he ever gave her. And, on top of that, every gift and memento was either broken or mutilated, every love letter and poem shredded beyond taping, and every picture of them had her new boyfriend's face pasted to his body.
It's tough stuff, but I can empathize with him. I've been there. I've been rejected so many times I've built up an immunity to "the fear of spending the rest of your life alone" syndrome. This is a pre-rejection condition that many acquire from constant rejection. It's a horrible catch-22 dilemma. If you don't circulate because you're gun-shy from constantly being denied, then you may indeed be lonely forever. Of course, your only sensible recourse is full-speed-ahead-take-no-prisoners-let-me-worry-not-about-my-afflication.
Rejection can either build confidence or strangle it. Yet, this can cause unneeded problems. What many may dislike in you, few may tolerate. However, those caring and understanding women are probably few and far between. And it may take you, like myself, much longer to find that person if it is something that repeatedly causes your rejection. (I think some folks call them behavioral and attitudinal problems.)
For example, I've been accused of not being "serious enough." (Okay, fair enough, that's an easy fix. My next girlfriend will never have to point that out to me.) Then, when I adjusted my behavior, I heard others say I was "too serious."
How about, "You're such a jock hard ass," or "You act just like a ten-year boy." I love those raps. Joy.
Then there's the line, "You've got such a bad attitude." Glee. Although my personal favorite is, "I don't want to hurt your feelings, but we're both so different. We'd be better off just being friends."
What is this "friends" thing? If you were like me, you probably thought you'd found your mate for life—perfection, or near perfection, in all the vital categories. The next thing you know, that "friends" business creeps up, and you're out roaming the streets with your tail between your legs.
Have you ever experienced the "I think we need to take things slow" scene? You're thinking, "Yeah, about as slow as a parlor car on one of those Japanese bullet trains." The woman is feeding you mixed signals. She's been very physical with you to a point. Maybe she's led you on for a couple of months with, "I just broke up with my boyfriend, and I don't want to get too serious with anyone right now." Yet her sexual advances, coupled with her romantic posture, have you thinking you can make her forget her past. Then, one day, she drops this bomb on you: "My boyfriend has decided not to take the job in London and wants to make things work, and gee, you helped her through a tough time for which she will always cherish and admire you and please stay in touch." OUCH!
Even when you're in a relationship, there are potentially dangerous situations that can lead to a complete and final rejection.
With my current girlfriend, I find tiny, daily rejections. For the most part, I can handle them. She dislikes cigars; I don't smoke them in front of her. She hates my friend, Winston; I don't let them socialize together. She abhors professional wrestling; I cheer the absurd "fixed" outcome of the WWF in the privacy of my apartment. Can you imagine being rejected for admiring the athleticism of "The Rock"?
My favorite was when she nearly rejected her birthday dinner at a very romantic and expensive restaurant because I refused to change my shirt. She thought it was tacky attire for a three-star establishment. I thought it was quirky—a vintage bowling shirt with two guys bowling on a desert island. I bought it that day specifically for our romantic celebration. Ultimately, I convinced her that if she let me wear it, I'd wear my leather shoes instead of my Converse high-top sneakers. It's funny how a little compromise can prevent a first-strike nuclear disaster.
With all of my rejection experience, I am becoming a much more caring, sensitive, and responsible guy. Hell, I may even make a terrific father someday. I've learned to deal with it much more gallantly, if nothing else. I'm almost sure that if Kirsten ever decided to leave me, I'd be a noble "rejectee" and could move on with little difficulty.
However, not everyone will accept the obvious.
Just the other day, I was lunching with the recently divorced Gerard. I listened to him moan about his latest romantic misfortune.
I did my best to comfort my friend. Suddenly, he started pestering our waitress for her phone number. He guessed her to be an actress. I admit she was lovely and possessed a quick wit.
He pleaded for her number.
No way.
He confronted her.
"Do you know how difficult it is for a man to confront a beautiful woman like yourself, only to have his heart returned to him on a stick? Romantic rejection is a bitter pill to swallow."
She smiled, winked, and stated:
"I'm sure it is, but do you have any idea how many sob stories and bullshit I've heard from desperate guys over the years? Women have perfected the subtle art of rejection to defend themselves against knuckleheads like you. Besides, I'm getting married next week. Can I get you guys another beer? It's on me."
Amen. I'll drink to that any day.
Ughh. Brings back some bad memories. Nice graphic at the top.