“I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
“Are you in love, Jeff?”
Hah.

“I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
“Are you in love, Jeff?”
Hah.
I met a girl across the sea
Her hair the gold that gold can be
Are you the teacher of the heart?
Yes, but not for thee
So I asked out Jenn.
I suppose it shouldn’t come as a surprise; Jenn’s been — perhaps unwittingly — a source of quixotic inspiration as of late.
It was something I approached delicately, out of a sense of propriety (if indeed, such a thing still exists), and the fact that Aaron and Karen are our close mutual friends. An avowal of such a nature, handled incorrectly, always has the potential to be a cause of awkwardness at parties.
Not that I wasn’t already awkward enough around her.
Jenn’s presence alone would make me flustered. When I could speak, it would often be a flourish of nonsensical words. Something that’s humourous in hindsight, but rather frustrating in the moment.
To be so affected always took me by surprise.
And it worked, for a while. I moved on, having convinced myself of such an idea, never telling anyone how I felt. Then one day, I realized that I was only fooling myself. It became obvious when I’d think of her in the lyrics of every song. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t need to defend some part of myself from her. Until then, I never believed in love at first sight. I didn’t want to believe it. After all, how do you explain such an illogical, ineffable, irrepressible feeling? I grew, but not out of this, and in vain had I struggled.
She said no.
It’s funny to think that with the wisdom I’ve gained, the experiences I’ve had, I can still be reduced to such an adolescent emotion. I don’t think anyone, myself included, would have imagined this would happen to me again, not at this age, not with what I’ve been through.
I just wonder now, when we’re both at Aaron and Karen’s wedding, after giving me her polite declination, whether I’ll still feel the same. Sometimes you think you’ve moved on. You think you’re over someone, until you do something as simple as see them again and your heart stops. Love, attraction, infatuation, they’re never so conventional as to be understood.
What a silly thing a crush is.
I love you too much baby
For you to be with me
I love you too much baby
I gotta set you free
—Shea Seger, I Love You Too Much
You were the closest I’ve ever come to perfect in a girlfriend. In fact, you raised the bar. Now I know there are girls out there who are funny, intelligent, open-minded, caring, sane, and I’ll always be looking for the same now.
In so many ways, we worked. My love of dark chocolate and your love of milk chocolate meant that we’d never have a problem finishing off an assorted box. You’re so easy-going, while I’m so uptight. All the little things, like puzzle pieces made of clay.
Even though it’s been months since we’ve broken up, our video is still by far the most played item on my iTunes playlist. It’s such a beatiful memory, and I’ll always cherish it.
I still miss those notes you used to leave me about what you did during the day and when you’d be back. Those times we’d take the bus, and you’d rest your head on my shoulder. Those times we’d wrestle and fall asleep in a pile, right there, from exhaustion.
I miss all these things, but the fact is that it didn’t feel right, and it wouldn’t be fair to either of us to keep going. You deserve to be with someone better. Someone who will fully appreciate you and the things you do.
I know I never said it in our relationship, but I loved you.
And I still do.
I still stagger and fall. Of course I have that, it happens to me all the time, you just have to get very careful about it, because it’s inappropriate for an elderly chap to register authentically his feelings, you know, because they really could be interpreted, so you really have to get quite covert as you get older or you have to find some avuncular way of responding, but still, you just, really are just, you’re wounded, you stagger, and you fall.
—Leonard Cohen at 72
In 50 years, will I look at love with the same starry-eyed mysticism as I do now?
Will I be satisfied, having loved enough, requited and not?
In my dotage, will I be proud to say that I was adored once, too?
Will I still fall?
Hey Pat,
I don’t know how serious you thought I was about being the best man or MC if you ever get married. I know it may sound crazy, but you getting married is as important to me as it is to you. I love you, and I know I don’t tell you that enough. You are a true friend to me, and you know that I don’t have many.
I see this as a great opportunity to do something for you, because you’ve already done so much for me. Let me take on the responsibility and support you, to be there for you on one of the most important days of your life. I easily put aside the differences I’ve had with any potential people you may invite (I think that we’re smart enough to be open and discuss this), because it’s about you, not me.
These things are usually planned pretty well in advance though, so I won’t be surprised if you have someone else in mind. I understand that we’re talking about YOUR big day, so you should have the people YOU want involved in YOUR wedding. To be honest, I’ll be happy with whatever decision you make, because I’m happy if you’re happy. Bottom line.
In any case, let me know when you pop the question, and WE WILL FEAST.
—Jeff
I wrote this two years ago.
Pat proposed to Jen a couple of months later. Several months after that, they bought a house, delaying the wedding until this year.
Last week, Pat asked me to be a groomsman and co-MC.
When I found out that Jason would be best man (as well as the other MC) there was a tinge of jealousy in my heart, followed by an overwhelming sense of guilt about this jealousy.
To feel this way was a bit of a surprise. Jealously has never been one of my prominent emotions. It made me realize that I’m a little insecure in my relationship with Pat. There’s so much good in him, compared to the hatred, darkness, and weakness in me. He’s not my opposite, but he’s the person I’m constantly striving to become. Just being around him makes me feel elated and relaxed.
The frustrating thing is that I know it’s his wedding. He should be able to do whatever he wants. There’s no rivalry between Jason and me. As studier of people, I have every bit of faith in Pat’s decision. The logic has finally kicked in, and I feel a sense of warmth and security about being up there with Pat, a group exclusive to a handful of people out of a seemingly endless number.
It’s only now that I realize how selfish and inappropriate it was of me to ask. Running around, making sure everyone is having a good time, giving toasts, hosting games, the duty of MC isn’t even something I normally want to do. I only asked because it was a way that I could show how much Pat has done for me, a responsibility I’d take on gladly.
I’m scared that I made him feel obliged, and I’m ashamed of being jealous for that split-second.
Maybe that’s what love is.
Unfounded insecurity. Jealousy without reason.
A feeling that overwhelms logic.