Wish you never looked at me that way...

Why is it that we always want what we can't have? Or rather, what is percieved as unattainable.

I know, somehow, that I can have anything I want. I believe that if one sets their sites on something, a way can be found. This is true for any and all situations. I don't care if it's a guy a job or a million dollars. I could get it. Anyone could. So I guess its about figuring out how to get one's way. And isn't confidence half the battle? But I digress.
ANYWAY
Yesterday, at a surprise party, somehow asked me about "that really sweet guy (I) was with at the bookstore." It caught me off guard. I forgot that anyone there would know little enough to bring him up. It isn't that it's a touchy subject (or at least I didn't think it was) but that it just isn't something I like to talk about. It's all over and done and I've definitely moved on. But to be dragged back to that place left me feeling uncharacteristically raw. Why? Why did that hurt me? It isn't as if I haven't talked about the situation. I have. Plenty. Perhaps too much. And yet this inquiry struck me in an unfamiliar way. I just said I didn't want to talk about. I said it was a long story. So she just goes "oh..." and I had to walk away. It wasn't the kind of long story that I was about to divulge. Will I ever? Will future boyfriends and newer friends see pictures or leftover scraps of memory and ask? Will I tell? I can't be sure. But if I am not able to, what does that mean? As you may have noticed I have far more questions than answers. Of those I have precious few. I don't like to think that he had that much of an impact on my life. But if I were to try to actually convince myself of that it would be a lie. Yet, I still can't figure out what exactly happened. Maybe that is what is keeping me from feeling completely released. Then again, I'm still tangled up in a minor if demi-crippling way. Friends talk about him - how can I not contribute to those conversations when they are largely directed at or concentrated on me? - my sisters ask if we speak (god forbid he would have the audacity), all guys are compared (in a "so much better/hotter/nicer" sort of way) to this one indescretion.

That's what love is: a misstep.