How to Get Away Without Feelings
“I always tell the girls, never take it seriously. If you never take it seriously, you never get hurt, you never get hurt, you always have fun, and if you ever get lonely, just go to the record store and visit your friends.” — Penny Lane, “Almost Famous”
I’ve never been a big fan of feelings (…is the understatement of the century). PDA completely creeps me out — the last thing I want is some couple making out on top of me on the train while I’m trying to pretend I didn’t forget my tissues at home, as my sinuses overtake me and I sneeze on them. (To me, public transportation just doesn’t scream romance, but apparently the couples of New York City disagree.)
I’ve always hated expressing how I feel about anything real, unless I’m a couple of drinks deep and feel like (over)sharing.
Even then, there’s a part of myself I hold back, and sometimes feel I can only express in writing. It started with journals as an elementary school-er struggling with boys who just didn’t like me back (they’re so regrettable to read, it hurts these days). Then, like any preteen with too many feelings, I moved on to a private LiveJournal full of emo lyrics and middle school heartbreak. And finally, as an almost-adult, the Internet, where anonymous commenters can make you feel the worst type of way.
There’s a Pinterest-perfect quote that says, “I wish I could trade my heart for another liver so I could drink more and care less,” and that’s exactly how I feel about everything.
I guess if I’m honest with myself (which I am only after a couple of drinks), I’m not afraid of feelings — I’m afraid of the potential for rejection that follows, which will never not be terrifying. Whether it’s by men or friends, the idea that I won’t be good enough, that I’ll somehow be lacking, is buried in the deepest part of my brain, negging me endlessly.
I wish I could take a class on how to get away without feelings, which is even more difficult than getting away with murder (I can only assume, obviously).
As much as I avoid feeling anything remotely painful (I think we all do, but some people are more open to being vulnerable, which is basically a dirty word to me), it seems like sometimes when I let myself go, the feelings aren’t as scary and overwhelming as I worry they’ll be.
One of my best nights ever was a New Year’s Eve after a particularly potent heartbreak. I was convinced I would never fall again, unless under extreme duress.
When I decided to take an impromptu swim, it was like something out of a movie. I met someone on the ocean floor, which was way more of a “meet-cute” than the dance floor. The waves kept dragging us under, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt everything, all at once, quite like that. It was a chance I wouldn’t have taken if I hadn’t felt numb to everything, but it reminded me that I was so completely alive and unafraid.
Sure, I woke up with sand in my shoes and I was covered in jellyfish stings for weeks, but it was worth it.
It’s hard to remember that when you cut yourself off from the bad feelings, you miss out on the good ones. Free-falling for someone new, and hoping that it’s going to be something. That moment when all of the love songs seem like they were written for you. When you just know that you’re on the brink of something spectacular and moving and all-encompassing. In the beginning, you’re not so focused on the end, because it doesn’t seem inevitable or threatening.
It’s far too easy to remember the heartbreak, the feeling when you wake up and everything comes rushing back to you, like a movie on repeat that never has a different ending. And then, it’s scarily simple to avoid it accordingly, by existing without app dating, and avoiding all of the handsomely bland stranger dangers that offer to buy you drinks at bars.
But being comfortably numb is a comforting lie, a purgatory that you’re stuck in until it’s time to start trying again — because it is trying. As much as you’d like to believe that the “meet-cute” of your daydreams will happen when you least expect it, it so rarely does.
Unfortunately, life isn’t a romantic comedy (if it was, your apartment would be far more impressive, and you’d have an endless supply of shoes). The cute architect of your dreams isn’t going to trip over you on his way to work. And even if he does, you’ll be in such a hurry, staring down at your phone, that you won’t even notice.
If you’re not able to let yourself go and risk feeling something, anything, you’re stuck in a self-induced coma of Tinder swipes that don’t go anywhere, except to your friends as lol-worthy screenshots you send.
As much as I’d like to be a character on “The Vampire Diaries”, with the ability to cut off my emotions randomly (don’t even pretend you don’t binge watch the CW masterpiece), I can’t be. I need to feel something — because whether it’s good or bad, at least it’s not nothing.
