David McElroy

making sense of a dysfunctional culture

David McElroy

When love finally dies, it’s like a fever breaks and the pain is gone

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I woke up one morning and the fever was gone. Suddenly, unexpectedly, with no explanation. I didn’t love her anymore.

She was gone. I accepted that, but this was more. I didn’t want her anymore. It wasn’t sour grapes. I had moped and pursued her for a couple of years. She practically begged me to. But I had given all I could give to her. I had given her every chance. Finally, the love was dead. I was drained.

It was like the breaking of a fever. One day, my heart was sick that I couldn’t have her, that she wouldn’t choose me, that she wouldn’t reverse the mistake she admitted that she had made.

And then the next day, I simply didn’t care. I don’t know how it changed. I just woke up knowing that I didn’t care anymore. The painful longing was gone. I got out of bed and casually blocked her on Facebook. It was time to cut the last remaining ties.

She never heard a word from me again, not even an explanation or a goodbye. It felt liberating.

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Competent, beautiful girl mirrors what I’d love to have in daughter

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When I met Jocelyn last week, her beauty was the first thing I noticed. I thought she was a college student, but she’s actually just 17 and finishing high school this year as a homeschooler.

When we started talking, her charm and friendliness were powerful enough that I almost forgot how attractive she was. It was only about 10 days ago when I met her after she started work at a fast food restaurant in my neighborhood — and she keeps surprising me.

Not only is she drop-dead gorgeous, but she’s a very hard worker and has an amazing personality. Wednesday evening, she broke my expectations once again. Two days ago, she had car problems as she was leaving work, so I asked her about her car when I saw her this evening.

She told me what she had to pay for a new alternator. The price seemed low, so I asked if that was just for the part or if that was the installed price. She looked at me with genuine surprise.

“I installed it myself,” she said, just as casually as she might have if she had said she’d painted her nails.

It’s really pleasant when someone who has the looks of a stereotypical air-headed cheerleader turns out to be so competent and well-rounded. I love this girl.

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Briefly: Suicide reminds me that we don’t always know other people’s issues

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I found out this evening that someone I casually knew killed himself last Wednesday. I didn’t know him well — and I never found him personable — but he had started work a couple of months ago at a restaurant where I go. He was a 26-year-old who struck me as a confused and unhappy person, but I didn’t think much about it since he stayed to himself and resisted my efforts to chat with him. It turns out that he had a history of depression and had a lot of gender confusion. He seemed very androgynous to me and I learned today that he presented himself as female in some situations. He was rejected by a romantic interest last week, so he went to the woods and killed himself. His body wasn’t found for three days. It’s tragic how miserable people around us can be and how we so rarely know the truth about things they struggle with.

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