Unrequited Love Forced Me to Wonderland for a Year

A romantic journey down the rabbit hole and back, where unrequited love set the stage for the fall. I considered a life frozen in time, punctuated by melancholy and regret—the relics of a failed relationship. Why stress John’s possible return, and be chastised by the Cheshire Cat personified? My wanderlust took me to wonderland for a year. Thinking our path could converge into marriage would be like taking directions from Twiddle-Dee and Twiddle-Dum.

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Juan Otero

Recently, he called me at 2:30 am. A phone call that late is for a man well-verse in booty calls. What could he possibly want so late at night? My mind took me to sultry places I haven’t been all week. This missed connection read like an ad on Craigslist.


Heading in with your heart on your sleeve will get you beheaded by the Queen. I’m not going to be sitting up in my room like Brandy, and watch my life and career pass me by.

I jumped the broom too soon! The absence of a proposal hasn’t swayed the public opinion of my closest friends. They are convinced that he wants me back and I should be prepared. A little thing called self-respect repelled me from reverting back to the past. Some may want their exes to want them back. I refuse to repeat the heartbreak, the shout-matches, and the drink-throwing that encompassed our time together. A life like that would make me madder than the Mad-hatter. I won’t RSVP to that tea party.

Yet, I offered him an opportunity to ask me back. I wanted my friends to be right until I suggested that we should talk. He became apprehensive. “I need to know what this is about,” he said. “Pending on the subject, I may not want to have a discussion.”

We don’t have to talk. I choose not the paralyzing prognosis of the past but the freedom of the formidable future. “You don’t have to commit to a conversation,” I said. “All I have left to say will remain unsaid.”

My relationship challenged what I knew about myself. Following the white rabbit back down the hole, like he had answers to what ailed my soul was tomfoolery. Killing time for the king of my heart, would not be smart since he would never measure up to a delusional fantasy. My poetic justice seeped from my pursed lips. I no longer needed validation from an emotionally unavailable man.

The plight of a broken heart had me swimming through a pool of tears like a pubescent girl. Back to reality—I awoke from what seemed to be a dream, as the season changed, marking an end to an era.



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