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Sunday, January 31, 2010


"Perhaps Margaret is right. Piracy is our only option."
-Edward Ferrars, Sense and Sensibility

Willoughbyed - v. to be strung along by a person of a male persuasion for weeks (or, unfortunately, months in this particular case), only to discover that feelings by this particular male are not only unrequited, but that he, in fact, belongs to another.

Yes, girls, you've heard it here first. Exactly two weeks before Valentine's day, I got majorly Willoughbyed. Completely blind-sighted by a love interest's casual declaration of a girlfriend.

If you've ever read Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. Marrianne, a sweet, poor girl, gets entangled with Sir John Willoughby. They have a chance meeting in a rain storm, and the rest is history. They spend nearly every waking moment together. She is absolutely head over heels for this guy, and he makes it very clear that he feels the same way about her. The moment Marianne is lead to believe that he is about to propose, he confesses, no, not his love for her, but that he has to leave town indefinitely for London. His reasons are vague.

Marianne then follows him to London, where she is not only completely ignored by him, she discovers that he is engaged to another woman.


Months of false hope and misinterpreted signs, with absolutely no mention of another female, then BAM, the "my girlfriend showed me this thing..." bomb dropped. I feel so deceived, so foolish. After a year and a half of struggling with single-dom, I thought, perhaps that someone was finally expressing interest in me romantically.

There I was, taking words he spoke out of context, overestimating our friendship, thinking that he really was that into me. And it's not even like I can really blame him at all. Because our budding romance was clearly all in my head. So, here I am, mourning the death of a relationship that never happened.

I can't even confront him about it, because that would mean confessing to him that I had feelings for him, that are obviously not going to be returned.

This is the third time in less than a year that this has happened to me. How many Willoughbys are out there? Girls, beware of the Willoughby.

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