I think unrequited love might be the most painful love of all.
Have you ever had utmost affection for someone who didn’t feel the same about you?
The first time this happened to me was in grammar school. I was 8, madly in love with a patrol boy 5 years my senior named Bobby Hargrove. I can still see me in my little plaid jumper, skipping down Tesiny Hill heart racing, head over heels to see Bobby. He of course had no idea I was so smitten. I knew though if I ran rather than skipped he’d jump in front of me so I’d slow down. I lived for that magical moment.
Jimmy Mallon was my high school heart breaker. I was a freshman and he a senior and just seeing him got me so shook up I’d run to the girls room and vomit. He dated Edith Marigold, who had her nose fixed, and I’d miserably watch them neck in her yellow Volkswagon during lunch. My mother could never understand why I would come home with my veal scallopini left untouched. Unrequited love kills a girl’s appetite, doesn’t matter how old she is.
As a big girl I had a mad crush on John Kennedy Junior’s cousin, Anthony Radziwill, who I knew from my gym. He was the cutest, sweetest guy though short, but I didn’t care. When Anthony walked in there was no one else in the room as far as I was concerned, including John, who also went there.
He’d flirt with me but it never progressed beyond a wink and a playful tease. He was a marathon runner who ran much faster than I did so to be funny, he’d offer to pull me behind him in a wagon. I’d laugh then go home and cry because he was dating some big blond with massive boobs who skied.
You can’t really compete with a girl who’s built like an action figure although I was sure I was a much better cook than she was but let’s face it, a casserole wasn’t what he was really looking for back in 1983.
“Make him some sauce, leave it with his doorman,” my mother advised. Of course she couldn’t quite get over the fact he was Jackie Kennedy’s nephew. I’m surprised she didn’t leave a jar of her own. I will say it was probably the one time I should have listened to her since I do make a mean marinara.
How bout the plight of the single girl and the married man? That’s in a category all its own. You’ve lost before you’ve even begun, like betting on a crippled race horse.
They can’t love you, it’s too costly so they pretend you’re just friends while you watch them zip up at 4 in the afternoon just in time to make it home by dinner. He leaves you chomping at the bit in the bra and panties you only wear on special occasions fantasizing that one day he’ll show up at your door with 2 tickets to happily ever after. (No, Rogers and Hammerstein did not write that.) Talk about tears – if you could have sold them you’d be a rich woman today.
This type of tale is what I never tell anyone when I’m asked why I’m not remarried. You see, I’ve been to the front love wise many times and though I made it out alive there’s still that twitch and limp to consider.
To sum it up, I deserve the Purple Heart.
Most women do.