Why He Will Never Love You

You’re kissing this boy right now. You’re kissing him and he’s kissing you. Actually, he’s not really kissing you. He might be moving his mouth in the correct ways and moaning but he’s gone. He’s not here right now. Leave a message at the beep. You’re kissing his mouth and soon you’ll be kissing his neck and finally you’ll be kissing his cock but you mustn’t forget something: you are never kissing his heart. Not even close.

Remember that this boy is an asshole and he has been sent here on Earth to destroy open-hearted people like you. He’s here to tarnish your self-esteem and leave you in pieces. He’s here to be a chapter in your book, and you a pithy footnote in his. You will have two wildly different interpretations of the relationship and when the stories don’t match up, it will make you feel like you’re losing your mind, that you really are the delusional psycho he’s painted you out to be. Don’t worry. You’re not. You’ve just met the boy who’s supposed to destroy people like you.

He doesn’t love you like you love him. Your love is this big, beaming light and his love is that dead gnat on the ground. But for right now, I guess he’s yours. He’s renting out his body to you for the night as a courtesy. At first, you’ll feel so glad that he did. “Oh thank you,” you’ll cry out at his feet. “Thank you for letting me having you for this brief moment of ecstasy.” When it’s all over though, you’ll hate him. Just like that. You’ll have arrived at his house with such promise and vigor to change him but he sucked you dry yet again. He wanted you to know that it will never be the way you want it to be, that he will never be the way you want him to be. And now you know. Again. Hold on to this knowledge until you develop the amnesia that’ll keep you coming back for more.

Rule number one: Never believe anything anyone tells you in bed. Beds are safe spaces where lies take root and grow, grow, grow all the way to the ceiling until, suddenly, you’ll find yourself surrounded by nothing but lies. Overgrown weeds you have to whack your way through just to get out of bed. Some people never leave though. Some people are comforted by the lies so they sleep with them every night.

This can’t be you. You have to get out of bed. As fast as you can.

He will say sweet things to you in bed, things you can’t believe are coming out of his mouth. It’s easy to say those sweet things when you’re lying next to a naked body. Try telling them again when you’re in a turtleneck and have a cold and ice is sticking to your face. It’s a lot harder then.

He leaves your bed and the second he does, the spell is broken. Even the way he dresses — casually, lazily, dismissive — will be enough to make your heart sink again. “Come back to bed,” you’ll say, patting the sheets.

“I can’t. Sorry. Got stuff to do today.”

He fills you up just to deplete you later.

You can only have him in bed. Outside of it, you can’t have anything. You’re stripped of your rights.

Don’t act surprised. You know better than to act surprised.

Just get out. He’s a dead-end. He won’t let you love him. Never will. You’re loving brick and mortar. Not a human body. You can love more than a wall. Hell, you need to love more than a wall.

He leaves. You lay in bed just a little longer so you can linger with his smells. You decide that you hate him.

He hates you.

No, wait. That’s still not right.

You hate yourself.