From David I learned that falling in love is the most painful thing you can do.
From Kenton I learned how to cope when you have no control over someone else's shiat.
From Josh I learned not to make out in shrubbery.
From Reid I learned that silence is still an answer to a question even if it's the last one you want.
From Tyler I learned how to negotiate, and to think outside the box(-spring).
From Joseph I learned that you can't make someone ready.
From Sean the first I learned how to hurt someone.
From Andrew I learned that being brave doesn't always get you want no matter how much you think you deserve it.
From Jeff I learned that every song, every verse, every painting that tries to capture the essence of love is a pale imitation, and that when it's destroyed, part of you is gone for good.
From Jeremy I learned not to be surprised when someone goes from amorous to absent in a twelve hour period. Also, that guys are dicks.
From Sean the second I learned that, no, really, you can't make someone ready.
From Bruce I learned that honesty can have surprising consequences.
From Jacob I learned that once you get past the obligatory sexual investigation, gay friendships are possible.
From Michael I learned that if someone is interested they'll let you know and if you're not getting the feedback you want it's because you're not the one they want to give it to.
From Aaron I learned that no matter how cute they are, that feeling in your gut telling you that it would be a laughably bad idea is always right.
From Bo I learned that affection comes from the most unexpected places.
From Joe I learned that good sex exists. And it's awesome.
From Ryan I learned not to make people into what I want them to be in that moment, especially when they're not mine to make.
From Mitchel I learned that no matter how much I seem to have learned I know nothing.
Ok, so I know nothing. Fucking fantastic.
I saw The Reader last night. There was a quarel between the lovers and one asks the other, "What did I do to hurt you?"
And she cooly looks at him and says, "You don't have the power to hurt me. You don't matter enough to hurt me."
Is that not the most cutting thing you've ever heard? I mean, that's ultimately my biggest button (and probably a couple others' as well), not mattering enough to affect someone. It's sick how much we (read: I) need to matter. I can name - and have above, in part - dozens of failed lovers that I think about all the time. Even if it was just an insignificant passing romance I can still recall every nuance of the failure. (In addition, I can still recall our last summer.) Each of them mattered even if I wish they didn't, which is why the notion of being insignificant is more tragic than that of being unwanted. This is why I'm such a big fan of flat out rejection; so much better to be let down gently, or even roughly, so long as the message is clear. Of course, sometimes the message is clear but you don't want to hear it.
Apparently, some people do that...