My Social Experiment: Day 0 (Nervous)

Before I begin what I set off to do, I feel like I should type down my thoughts as to how I feel. First off, I'm nervous. I have approximately 230 friends listed on Facebook: 50% that were added randomly these past few months, about 30% that I know by association, 15% that I don't even communicate with anymore, and the remaining 5% are people that I do communicate with. Only the 5% will be excluded (since there is no point in reconnecting with them when I already do communicate with them). SO...yeah, many will be complete and total strangers. Second, I'm pretty there are a several that are either married, or at least in a very serious relationship, so I can anticipate a lack of response (but hopefully a polite decline?) from these people. 

So yes, I can say that I'm nervous: who will respond? Who will actually want to participate? Can I maintain communication with approximately 150 people (that's the amount of people I'm hoping to interact with)? Can I even initiate some sort of dialogue to begin with (after I post the initial question)? 

I hope to seek some answers soon.

Connecting With Others

I've been glancing at my so-called "Facebook Friends List" and think to myself, What do I really know about these people? How can I begin to know them personally? The answers to these questions still elude me, but I'll come up with a solution of sorts. My gears of my mind are currently at work, devising a plan to effectively come up with an answer to sorts. If this all plays out, this might be the social experiment of my life!...thus far. I'm sure I'll be devising grander social experiments in the future of my life. 

"The Reasons I Won't Be Coming..." (Part III)

*NOTE: I actually meant to post this entry a few days ago, but, as I mentioned in Part II, the immense schoolwork had kept me from setting time aside to complete this post punctually.*

In the week after the second entry was written, I had (somewhat) stopped caring about work, my schooling, my appearance, and my health. I still went to my class and work, but I wasn't enthusiastic about doing so. I let my beard become a splotchy mess, I practically wore the same outfit for days on end (my sweater hid the same flannel I wore on consecutive days), and it's been a week or so since my last gym session with my brothers. This went on for days. Then, it finally happened.

I know this because my sister innocently hugged me goodnight a few days ago and I gently wept on her shoulder. My heart, my mind, and my soul couldn't carry on anymore - the weight had been too much. Then, in the following morning, I realized that I have finally reached the deepest depths this break-up will drag me down to. I had nowhere to go, but upwards and, perhaps, beyond.

The first thing to change was my appearance. In addition to finally wearing various outfits to class, two friends in the class suggested that I shave off the entire beard and mustache, rather than trimming off the splotchy regions on my face. So I did, since they've never seen me clean-shaven, so I figure I'd amuse them with how much younger I look (about 20 with a clean face). Incidentally, this shave surprised almost half the class (the professor included), and some people commented on how different I really look without facial hair, including a girl who caught my eye (more on her in a moment). I also began to replace unhealthy snacks and drinks with trail mixes and bottles of water, as well as going out for brisk walks during the small 15-minute breaks we students were given every day. This all began on Wednesday of the third week of class.

On the last day of the second week, I arrived to class about 15 minutes late, and the only seat the was available was a seat the faces the class, rather than facing the projector (which made note-taking difficult, to say the least). However, this perspective allowed me scan the room to see who was in this class, aside from the only two people I had known already (the curse of being a commuter student - you don't know many people in university, but I digress). Then I saw that girl that caught my eye, but until the last week of class, I didn't do anything (mostly since I was still wrestling with my personal dilemmas). 

So after breaking down, and taking those steps to pick myself up (essentially on the last week alone), I decided that I'd work up the courage to ask her out for coffee (or lunch - it didn't matter). Her response didn't matter: all I wanted to do is prove to myself that I had the courage to ask. Besides, I was somewhat confident she was seeing someone anyhow (all pretty girls tend to be in a relationship, though it's not always the case - but again, I digress). However, the timing just wasn't there: she'd leave early or I'd stay behind to follow up with the professor or my classmates (especially because of the daunting final exam), so I couldn't really ask her out on that last week, like I wanted to. I was disappointed - I really wanted to know if I had the courage to do something so many people are strangely afraid to do. I was ready to forget about her and move on (since I was certain I wouldn't see ever again - university's kinda weird like that). 

However, I did end up asking her, but on chance alone, actually. After finishing my final exam and having one last discussion with my professor, I left the classroom. As soon as I opened the door, I noticed her leave the building. For a split moment, I hesitated, but then realized that this would be my last chance, if I were to have one at all. So I chased after her, hoping to find her as soon as possible. I caught up to her, strangely enough. I introduced myself to her and we got to talking for a quick minute. When I had asked her out, I was upfront, honest, and sincere, but she shyly said no. As it turns out, she does have a boyfriend (but I wouldn't really know, after all) and she felt bad for having to say "no," but (in all honesty) I could care less of her answer (of course, if she was single and said "yes," I'd be happier still). So we exchanged goodbyes and good luck wishes for the upcoming Spring semester, and I walked away with a smile. I was happy knowing that I took that chance. Yes, I struck out and got rejected, but I took that chance and asked her.

To know that I'm capable of taking that chance gave me a lot of satisfaction. That incident with her was, perhaps, the most reassuring fact that I'm finally out of my "break-up blues." In one month alone, I've been through so much. Now, I'm ready to face the future with eyes wide open and mind reeling for what lies ahead. Relationships are a hell of thing to behold. 

Until next time, fellow readers!

"The Reasons I Won't Be Coming..."

Until almost a week ago, I was somebody's boyfriend. With her, I shared bits and pieces of myself - what I like and don't like; what elevates and depresses me; what I aspire to be, and hope to God I will never become. In our time together, I've learned to care (as best I can) about somebody else and she, by some miraculous act of God, reciprocated that same affection to me. 

Only...our time together was temporary. 

In surprise, she and I had discussed our relationship, and she realized that we weren't working out as a couple. She pointed out many problems we had: most were valid, a few exaggerated, and some a projection of our insecurities. After this lengthy discussion, I decided to respect her wishes and we eneded our relationship. We hugged, exchanged goodbyes, and we went our separate ways. Just like that. 

So now, a few days later, I'm here, writing about this, still in shock at the gravity of what had occurred days ago. I feel numb, disconnected, distant. I don't think reality has kicked in yet. I wonder if she feels the same.

Despite the numbness and disconnections, I don't really feel sad or upset that our time together came to an end, even if it was sudden and unexpected. I'll forever think of her fondly as my first love, who had accepted me for who I was, not what I was. Perhaps that acceptance will always be the best gift she'll ever give me (and believe me, she's given me some pretty cool gifts). 

At the end of all this, I didn't just lose a romance - I lost a friend. I lost someone who cared about me, who I cared for in return. I don't know if we'll cross paths again, but I hope someday we can reconnect again, even if we'll be just friends. 

Regardless of this, being single again gives me new found hope that I can re-experience this all over again, with someone else. As long as I keep my spirits up, I'll be alright. Perhaps not today or tomorrow, but I'll heal, I'll move on, and I'll love again.