I loved you not.

This sort of behavior was a source of much confusion for me in my youth. While literature (especially Shakespeare) told me again and again that women were fickle and changeable, it felt like it was always men who changed their minds.
For weeks he’d have chased after me, thrown love lorn looks at me and if I turned around and faced him, he’d deny it, claim no love at all.
Love would last a couple of weeks before he’d disappear. Sometimes a couple of months if he wasn’t local. Here. Gone. Loves me. Doesn’t. Claims to never have in the first place.
It was VERY confusing.
I see now that part of this was because of the men I was choosing. I was attracted to heartbreakers, to handsome gypsies, to moody artists who were interested in something next to me, really, not me.
I missed entirely the steady attentive, kind ones. Didn’t even notice them. If they gave me signs I missed them or ignored them. Those were the kind of men who, even when they left me, would never deny they loved me in the first place.


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