I’m waiting for your phone call and I feel like it’s never going to come. Apart of me is at peace with the fact that with every passing minute, every quiet moment

I realize slowly that I was never on your mind today.

I convince myself there’s a legitimate reason why you haven’t called yet. It’s easy for me to make excuses for you while I wait. You were too busy, you lost track of time, your phone is out of reach and you’ve fallen asleep without realizing it. It happens, those things, but when I’m honest with myself I know none of those are true, none of those are the reason I’m waiting by my phone for your phone call.

I adore that feeling when I see your name pop up on my screen. The anticipation is killing me and as I watch the clock count down the hours and the sun sink below the horizon I can’t help but think of you.

We never said we’d talk today. There was never any explicit conversation where you told me you’d text me or call me, but I didn’t think we still needed that, I didn’t think we’d became those people who needed to outline when it was appropriate to call one another, but I find myself hung up on being the one who cares less, the one who could go a whole day without hearing from you.

But I’m not that girl and I do care.

I care enough to spend my evening busying myself at the gym, in the kitchen, soaking in the bath just to take my mind off of how much I just want to hear about your day, send you a funny text, and talk about nothing in particular at all. I think about how sparsely I’ve talked to you all week and I wonder if the fact that I miss you plays a role in the fact that I’m waiting, just waiting, to hear from you again. You are like a long lost friend and the laundry list of things I want to share with you is too long to keep track of anymore.

I can’t seem to remember when I started wanting to share so much with you. It was before I met you, before I kissed you, before the idea of just sitting together doing nothing sounded like my goals for a Tuesday night. And now I’m waiting, conflicted about grabbing the phone and calling you first. I could call you, I should call you, your voice echoes in my head that, of course, I can always call you, but I know that’s not the point.

The point is I’m waiting for you to call, you specifically,

because the idea of sharing your day with me and hearing my voice sounds amazing to you.

I know that maybe those expectations are high but I’m a girl who can survive with less and this is the least of things I want from you. It’s so sappy, it’s such a perfectly mundane stereotype of the female sex. Imagine how you feel when I call, when I make you feel special, when I let you know you were on my mind and when you think of that my qualms probably don’t seem so insane.

A call, a text, a sign of communication is timeless and classy. It’s not naked pictures, or an outlandish meme, a Facebook like or a smile face emoji. In a generation that is always being reminded of how bad they are at relationships this should be the foundation. Being able to just talk to someone, about anything, about things you like and don’t like – well, that’s huge. I like having that with you, but it’s not happening today and I can only blame myself. Because instead of waiting I should be calling you, I should be less afraid of how it looks and how it makes me vulnerable because I really want to.

I miss you enough to call you and tell you that.