Pondership – When Stepping Back Feels Impossible

Love. It’s an enduringly weird and fickle thing. It can lift you up and strike you down in grandiose ways. Sometimes, it’s practically Shakespearean.

Most of the time? Love is just confusing.

First sight

I first met her at university – let’s call her Rose.

She was one academic year below me but three months older. Her hair was that ephemeral dimension between blonde and brown. Her dress sense continuously surprised me – shades of bohemian with thick, colourful jumpers, home-knitted cardigans and crop-tops, and stunning, flapper-style dresses.

Most striking, however, was her wit, her timing, and her inability to take any group photo seriously. She was desperately funny, a maestro of sarcasm and deadpan, not to mention her insane musical talents.

She was so… irreversibly herself.

Lying below the surface

In my third year, I spent an increasing amount of time with Rose. We performed together, crewed shows, attended nights out… So much so that she became an integral part of my core friendship group, which kept us tightly in contact until graduation.

Our summer together in 2023 was idyllic. Both of us had endless time on our hands now that classes were dismissed, and we all lived in relative proximity. Every other day we’d be round someone’s house playing video games, board games, or “hide and seek in the dark with objects” (not as kinky as it sounds). We’d be swimming in the Thames near Englefield, taking trips to Thorpe Park, kicking about on the university green. 

I never realized how much it would hurt when Rose was the first to travel back home.

Detachment

In July, I graduated. Soon after, I’d settled in London for my Master’s degree and my daily routines took on a new, intense focus.

By December, I was struggling hard with detachment. Sounds silly now, but I’d assured myself that the finest hours of my life had come and gone. I was procrastinating endlessly, dwelling on memories and choices that couldn’t be reversed. My productivity was at an all-time low. Throughout this malaise, I realised one face was cropping up in my imagination more significantly than any other. Feelings I’d long since suppressed started to make sense.

Suddenly, I’d developed an unquestionable, irrevocable crush on Rose.

Collision

What was I thinking? Rose was still completing her third undergraduate year. Any potential relationship would be destined to be long-distance, even if she felt the same way. We were running in different circles now. Plus, I came to realize that we’d never spent any one-on-one time together outside of our friendship group. We could be completely incompatible. There were so many obstacles… but I had to try.

Thus, in January of 2024, Rose and I collided on the streets of Windsor for a delightfully sunny afternoon hangout. We had a gorgeous pan-Asian meal at Banana Tree; reminisced on university memories, laughing anew at inside jokes; took a long walk on the Long Walk as the sun came into rest; caught up on dream musical theatre roles. The synergy was pouring forth. Everything felt easy. Freshly exciting.

So, I confessed to her.

I can look back on it now, say it was too awkward, too convoluted, I didn’t use the right tone but Rose always knew how to make a situation comfortable. She said I was a dearly special friend but that she wasn’t in the right mindset for a relationship at that moment. It was an elegant, compassionate refusal.

That was that. Job done. Feelings addressed. Everything was set in order. Or, at least, that’s what I hoped for at first.

Who was I kidding? I couldn’t let Rose go so easily.

When stepping back feels impossible

I imagine most of us would give anything to crawl into someone’s mind and see a situation differently. I certainly could have cleared some things up in this case. Alas, I latched on to any hope I could find. It wasn’t a “no,” I kept telling myself. “Not yet,” maybe. 

Rose probably needs time to rearrange her own feelings. It hasn’t been too long since she ended her last relationship. Yeah, that’s probably impacting things.

I continued to see Rose as much as possible. I would over analyze the tiniest interactions, searching for heightened affection – for instance, when Rose hugged me not once but twice the first time we saw each other again (after all, no one else got two hugs, so far as I could see). Or when she started joking about me with her mum following her end-of-year performance. Clearly, I was the butt of some inside family joke and that excited me beyond words.

Simultaneously, there was distance between us. Rose could hardly hold my gaze if I was talking to her. I initiated almost all of our conversations. Messages I sent would sometimes linger for several weeks before getting a response.

In hindsight, the mystery was the most attractive part – the curiosity of sourcing a reaction. Wanting to uncover potential unsaid feelings. Wanting my idea of Rose to align with the real person.

Of course, it was only the idea that I loved romantically. The idea was bountiful when the reality was not. Ultimately, I had to let go of this ethereal version of Rose I’d formed in my mind. But how do I break up with something that doesn’t exist?

(Image courtesy of Kelly Sikkema via Unsplash)

Pondership

This was the word I kept using when talking about Rose with friends – a “pondership.” There’s a lingering attachment phase when a confession has been rejected. Not quite a friendship, not quite a romance: something in-between, something confusing. An unknown state. A Schrödinger’s relationship, if you will.

The more I thought about this term, the more I realized it could help me. I started pondering an entire relationship with this fake Rose I’d created, from the outset of dating to an eventual separation. The purpose of this wasn’t to live in any sort of fantasy. Really, it was quite logical. I specifically looked for rough patches, scavenging for drawbacks and dissuasions. I evaluated where I wanted to be with my life and routines, weighing these against the progress Rose was making.

Steadily, something started to shift. I was able to attach negatives to romantic involvement, though Rose and I were far from dating. I was able to step back gradually, separate at my own pace, and respect Rose’s boundaries. 

I fell out of love. In that process, I realized – we were growing up. I think the major reason I fell for Rose was to hold on to my university days, those long nights in the summer and the cocoon of a moment that felt transcendental.

Moving on

Everyone has a first love. Not your first partner, not your first physical experience. The first person you obsess over. Lose sleep over. The person who destroys your productivity with intrusive thoughts, who makes you want to change who you are as an individual, to be better and more complete as a person.

Rose was mine.

Rejection sucks – let’s be perfectly honest. When everything aligns in your head, any interruption becomes such a destructive feeling, so be kind to yourself. Give time to that pondership phase but never lose yourself in it. However impossible it may feel to step back from the idea of perfection, it is possible to crack holes in that façade with enough discipline. Everyone’s process will vary but the sentiment remains the same:

Love is confusing. Definitely a tad Shakespearean. And it’s also one of life’s greatest lessons.