Sunday, 03 July 2011

• The Definition of Insanity

  
  Rejection: It sucks. But usually it happens once per person, and once is enough. They say no, and we retreat to lick our wounds and rest up for the next one. At least, that's how I handle rejection. You don't want me? Well, I don't want you either. E basta. But last year I learned that there is a certain breed of person who is willing to go through the same rejection again and again... and again, in the vain hope that this time will be different.

  It started out innocently enough. My best male friend (Jeb) and I were hanging out one rainy afternoon, watching Casino Royale for the third time, when his friend called and invited us to continue watching B grade movies at his place. We walked down the street and through the park in the rain, and then I was introduced to Ethan, about whom I had heard much from Jeb in recent months. 

  Ethan was ten years older than Jeb and I, but had the youthful energy and long, lithe body of someone in his late twenties. He was extremely intelligent and well-spoken, and had the gracious hosting skills to match his beautiful, plant-covered top floor apartment. Jeb and Ethan had become close while playing soccer on the same intramural team over the past couple years, and had many inside jokes that they loved to indulge in while I remained firmly on the outside. Many of these inside jokes were sexual (boys will be boys) but I've always been (relatively) comfortable with the (relatively depraved) male sense of humor. 

  That day we watched the fourth or fifth Resident Evil movie, and that's how the three of us began hanging out together. One Saturday we were eating burgers at three in the morning. They had been making jokes about having a threesome all night long, and I had been playing along in good humor. Then we were standing outside at the intersection, preparing to go our separate ways, and something came over me, and I asked Ethan if he wanted to kiss me. We kissed. It was brief and pleasant. Then I left with Jeb to crash at his place, and Jeb was giving me a hard time, but I laughed it off as something whimsical and just a continuation of the carefree sexual jokes we'd all been making at each other's expense(s). 

  Boy, was I wrong. Looking back, it's laughable and more than a little ironic that the action I thought of as so silly and meaningless would become such a source of torture in my life. After that night, Ethan would use any opportunity he could to try and talk me into dating him seriously. He would corner me at parties and at the edge of the dance floor and explain to me almost methodically how he really felt a strong connection between us and that we could really have something lovely. Every time I would reiterate that I wasn't looking for a relationship, that I just wanted to be friends, and we would reach some sort of mutual understanding, and days would pass, and then he would get drunk and do it all over again. Now, conviction is something I respect tremendously, but it got to the point where I felt legitimately disrespected by his insistence and refusal to acknowledge my feelings. It went on for four months, and it was exhausting.

  Why couldn't I just avoid him, you ask? Because he was Jeb's best friend! So I'd be at Jeb's place and then Ethan would call and appear and I would pretend, for Jeb's sake, that it was all fine and good. I know I was the instigator, so I felt guilty for messing up the friend dynamic. But I was also angry at Ethan for not letting it go and continuing to mess up the friend dynamic. Luckily Jeb was content to witness and laugh at the drama instead of letting it get to him. 

  And it didn't stop until I moved to another city.  

  Have you ever been pursued by someone who refused to accept no for an answer? 

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