the dish: 11/01/2005

Roberto Alonso-Virella

The warm air swirled high in the trees of Ft. Wayne, Indiana as Deloris walked out of the soda shop with her girlfriends. Across the street from her she spotted a man, dark skinned, light eyed, unlike other men she had known in her life. As she and her girlfriends stood on the sidewalk gossiping about their high-school mates, the man approached and spoke to Deloris. He asked her what her name was and his voice was heavy with an accent, his eyes seemed to see through to her soul. They arranged to meet for a date later that night, even though Deloris was only 15 and the man was twelve years her senior.
That night Deloris met Roberto in town. His white suit was striking and Deloris's feelings for him were set in stone when she noticed the print of his boxer underwear showing through the fabric.
Deloris and Roberto never parted after that much to the dismay of Deloris's family. Roberto was arrested for kidnapping and was released after it was discovered that he and Deloris were married.

The scar

It has been eleven months since Crush and I broke up and I still think about him daily. Why just this morning I woke up from a dream of him and cried like I haven't in months. I can't put my finger on why he still haunts me but I suspect that it has a bit to do with how tumultuous our relationship was while it did last, and is most probably because I have so many unanswered questions about why it had to end.
Unrequited love is perhaps the most hurtful thing one has to endure in life. It leaves a scar that never quite heals, but instead gets rubbery and thick. It leaves the heart unlovable, unable to love again, causes one's belief in the mere possibility of love to vanish. It is as if pouring one's heart into something so abysmal, as the unrequited form of love, will continue to vacuum any semblance of remaining love for eternity.
The other week, in a moment of both drunken boldness and stupidity, I emailed Crush to tell him how devastated I was that he and I weren't friends, that I hoped he was well, and other niceties I was sure would renew his interest in me. It's been awhile and anything that is sent from him at this point is not worth anything; it still hurts though. It cuts into my scar, building it up, emptying me.