Call me a killjoy, but I was over high school before middle school was even half way through. Everyone was pretending to be grown up, doing and saying grown up things without being prepared for consequences or really knowing what they were doing would really mean to them later on in life. With that said I was a late bloomer and I didn't have my first "boyfriend" until freshman year of college.
He lasted six days. He was insecure about my friends and what they were doing and what they thought of him more so than what I was doing and what I thought of him. Truth be told, we had nothing in common. He liked me, I liked that he liked me, so I went along with it. And on the fourth day, he said it. Yes, it. And I mentally wretched.
I didn't love him back. How could I? I didn't even know him. We were dating. In my mind dating is getting to know someone, letting them get to know you, and eventually seeing where the chips fall in the end. Dating is not clinging desperately to a person when you're lonely in hopes that they love you. Before you think it, no I'm not an anti-romantic, quite the contrary. If a man can come to me, make me smile and want to be in his presence consistently, I'll be the mushiest romantic the world has ever seen. As it stands though, "Hey shawty" and "Pssst!" don't constitute either of those. Call me rigid, but if you can't treat me like a lady and not some random street walker, I'd say we have next to nothing in common and you get no play.
Back to the subject at hand. Four days and it was love for him. By day five I knew it wasn't going to work out. I spent the night pondering, thinking, wading through my emotions. By day six I told him I didn't think it was going to work out. Day seven he was on my phone wanting me back, but that's a different blog for a different day.
What I mean to say is, love happens on it's own time. No amount of rushing, wanting, praying, fasting, nor sacrifice will bring it to you when you want it. There is nothing more annoying than that associate who's in love after three days of knowing the person and a McDouble.
I wanted to say to him "Say bruh, it's been four days. Pump your brakes." Instead, I let him think it was his idea to break up and let it happen the way it happened. I didn't want to hurt his feelings and tell him in addition to his clinginess, he was possibly the worse kisser ever, but that's also another blog for another time.
I guess what I'm saying is, stop all the madness. Let it happen on its own. A watched pot never boils. Being infatuated with something new, and being in love are rarely if ever the same thing. What do you think? Does newness cloud the judgement of people, or is it actually a love jones going on? Think on it, and get back to me.