Wonderwall

I can hear it in my memory; the song was “Wonderwall” by Oasis. I was in the fifth grade and I had unknowingly dedicated this song at a dance to a boy in my class who wanted nothing to do with me. This next song is dedicated to ------ from Lilly, the DJ said. I was mortified. 

 Earlier that day, while on a class trip to the Kentucky capital, I had written this boy a note. I told him that I liked him and hoped that he would save a dance for me later that night. Later, waiting in the hotel gift shop, my friend told me this boy had shown everyone the note. I was mortified. And then I had to get on the bus. That evening, a girl from our grade would request that a song be dedicated to ----- from me without my knowledge. 

 

You might say this was my first experience with having poor judgment with men. Or maybe this was when I first learned that telling a boy how I felt would inevitably lead to ruin. 

 

I spent an evening with a friend recently and she told me she hadn’t read any of my writing because she assumed I only wrote about the mutual friend I dated ten years ago. Did this surprise me? Not really. But it was slightly hurtful. Not that I need to defend my work, I don’t. When I have written about him, it was to learn about who I was then and who I am now. He was part of that process, and in truth, the only man I ever dated who noticed I had been hurt in the past. We stayed friends for a long time. Our connection was important to me, but I forgot to consider myself. In that way, it was unhealthy. Not because he was unkind or cruel. I had not yet learned to put myself first.

 

If this friend has never read my work, where did she get this assumption from? I didn’t ask. Not that I needed her validation. I have grown up in Louisville people assuming things about me because my parents’ named their restaurant after me. There’s a laminated quote on my parents’ fridge that says, “Friends and good manners will carry you where money won’t go.” Being raised to have good manners and to also be a woman means you are not taught or expected to say no to men. Good manners lead to bad trouble.

 

I have spent the last ten years out of a relationship learning how to fix this very problem. It’s essentially why I am afraid to date again. There is the fear of losing what I have gained. Becoming quiet again and letting them run me down. I’ve worked too hard to put myself on the chopping block again. How can I learn to defend myself without being seen as mean, difficult, a fucking freak, a bitch?

 

I have spent the last ten years in recovery for unrequited love.

 

I have spent the last ten years putting out the fire in my heart.

 

Today will be the day I know what not to do.