Why Move On?

What do people mean when they say “I’ve moved on”? What does it mean, really? Does it mean that I was crushed because it didn’t work out, but now I’ve put it past me? Or maybe it means I no longer think of her, she’s history, and I always flunked history. Or for some, it’s more like “I’ve kicked the bitch right outta my mind, she’s no longer clogging up the system!”

Hell, I dunno. I’ve rarely had occasion to say that I’ve moved on from anything. But for some reason, whenever such occasion did arise, I could never consciously say those three words. Sometimes I wondered why. What was keeping me from putting a hurtful thought, an unfortunate failure behind me? I realised that I could never ‘move on’ when it came to my relationships (those successful, and those not quite), you know, the guy-girl thing. In every other case I could move on, be it bad grades, bad personal experiences, family hassles; anything but the chick bit. And I guess there’s only one reason for it.

Why in the name of the Holy Lord above would I wanna forget anything that made me happy, if only momentarily? Ok, you got me. Yes, broken relationships are hard. Fine, failed relationships are hurtful. I’ll give it to you, when you’re in a relationship where your partner’s taking advantage of you, or you’re not even in a relationship and your intended partner is already taking advantage of you, you’re just a pathetic dweeb! But hey, you cannot deny (don’t you dare lie, you just can’t deny) the fact that at least you were happy for a while. And even if you knew that your partner’s wrapped you round her twinky, you were still glad you did it for her. Yeah, you’d be a jackass, but a happy one at that. For a while anyway.

Yes, I’ve been in love with one girl for the better part of a decade. Yes she’s often acted in a manner that might be conceived as taking obvious advantage of that fact. And yes, I’ve been irritated, pissed, infuriated, and even at times disgusted at her for it. But hell, I’ve been happy as well. It’s a crappy song, but Britney did have a point when she crooned in her broken voice, “I’m a slave for you!” And though I cannot imagine breaking through the barrier of my ego to match the degree of servility necessary to be a slave to her (my sweetheart, not Britney you idiot!!), I cannot also deny the unfortunate fact that love is the antidote to good sense and dignity, among other things. That may not be the case for all, but I’ll wager that it is the case for enough.

Bottom line, I’ve never been happier than when I would make her smile out of anything I may have done for her. And this is just one of the women in my life (though obviously the more prominent). I’ve only had the one girlfriend so far, and I spent seven of the most amazing months of my life going around with her. I use the phrase ‘going around’ for the sake of convenience, to signify that we had a thing going on during that period. We didn’t really ‘go around’ anywhere to speak of. Anyhow, that ended in the new year of 2005. Sure I was sad, I was disappointed, shocked, bewildered, confused, broken, all of that crap. But I don’t hate her for it. I don’t even resent it. Because hey, I did have the greatest time while we were together. And in the end, if she felt that it’s not working out, then that’s ok. I had to respect her for her decision. If she were unhappy in the relationship, how long would it take for things to take a really bitter turn?

I’ve had two crushes that I can write home about, so to speak. The first one was in my second year, and as I’ve mentioned previously, I’m glad that led to nowhere in retrospect. But I wrote two songs on that chick before I realised that God was truly helping me out by keeping her outta my perimeter. So I’ve never been sorry that I liked her. And yes, I was happy when I was around her as well.

My second crush is far more recent, and luckily, I handled this the smart way; I told her that I had a crush on her before my feelings developed into something huge. That’s a new thing for me, earlier I’d wait too long before spilling the beans, and by then I’d be so far into the gal that a rejection would be crushing. But not this time. Except that the feelings haven’t wholly subsided yet. Heck, these things take time. When I told her how I felt about her, I mentioned that I owed it to myself as well as her to let her know, because in my case such feelings are rare (my criteria for choosing women are quite unconventional, kinda like myself). What’s the point of keeping something like that to myself? And of course, if I do something for her now, it makes me happy.

No, I haven’t moved on. Not from the memories of my happiness when it came to any of these women. Not from the power of emotions stirred by thoughts of them. Not from the feeling of longing to hold them in my arms and tell them how amazing they are (however short-lived that feeling might have been, and in some cases, it hasn’t as yet died). And why should I move on? I have learnt from my mistakes, and I’ve had fun while making them. So why should I just forget all about the good stuff by blotting it out with the bad. When you’re riding a wave, you’re gonna go up and down, and the one inevitably follows the other interminably on. You can choose to get off the boat, and you can choose to forget the ride. But why forget the awesome feeling of momentary weightlessness that you experienced while riding the waves, just because a while later you found yourself puking your guts out over the side?