I met a girl on mySpace when I was nineteen. She friend requested me and the only reason I accepted was because of how beautiful she was. The first time we got on AIM we talked for 12 hours straight and ended up video chatting, doing shots over the internet. I woke up at around 4 that morning, staring at an image of her sleeping on my computer screen. Never sleep with someone on the first date I chuckled to myself.
Two weeks later it was my twentieth birthday. I convinced a couple of my coworkers to take the eight hundred mile journey with me to go see her. We went, and I spent a magical afternoon and evening with her. Eventually, we found ourselves in her college dorm room making out and undressing each other. When she said that she should go get a condom, I froze up. I liked this girl, a lot. I liked her so much that I didn’t want to have sex with her and turn this into an interstate fling. She said that she respected my decision and when she walked me back to where my friends were I kissed her and said I was going to be back as soon as I could.
As soon as I could turned out to be ten weeks later on Valentine’s Day. How perfect, right? But about a week before she started acting weird, not returning my calls and responding to my IMs with one word. I confronted her about it and she told me that she had ‘stuff to deal with’ and that ‘it would be better if you didn’t come.’ We stopped talking but like a junkie I came around to contacting to her again. So on the fourth of July I made the journey by myself to see her. And I have never been so passively rejected. She turned down my every advance and refused to talk about it. I felt like such shit.
I began to analyze my every word and action on those last two days that we spent together. I was very forward, yes. But I had driven 800 miles to go and see her, I feel like that stated my intentions clearly. Perhaps it was because I was aimless in my pursuit of life, happy to get stoned and attend dance parties. She was in college working towards a career. I could alleviate that. I enrolled in a technical film school. I told her and she did not seem impressed. More drastic steps needed to be made.
Nearly immediately after starting I met my screenwriting partner and we came up with a film concept that I integrated our story in. A couple would sit at dinner, the guy having travelled a great distance, and break up before dessert. I wrote feverishly, saying everything I wish I could ever say to her. My idea was to make the movie and enter it into her town’s film festival, where I knew she volunteered every year. Showing it there would be my ultimate revenge. And just maybe she would see how much she hurt me. Our plans were halted when we realized how much films actually cost to make.
We did talk on Facebook sporadically, but our conversations were always initiated by me. She always seemed more cordial than accepting and we never reignited that spark we once had. I can remember lying on my bed one night and picturing her lying there with me. I stroked her imaginary shoulder and kissed her nonexistent back. I thought to myself I really am losing it.
Once I got a well-paying job, I planned to drive down and see her. I still had her number, despite never calling or texting her. I was going to go to where she lived and say I was just passing through. I never did go through with it, mostly because I lost my good paying job and soon enough I lost the phone
that had her number stored on it. And then the dreams started.
One of the worst dreams about her was the one where nothing happened. We just did normal boyfriend and girlfriend things. Went thrifting, grocery shopping and to the park. It was so real I was fooled until I woke up and realized I was dreaming. I began crying and fell back asleep, right into the same dream, except I was crying in the dream I was crying. When she asked me what was wrong I told her that I knew this wasn’t real and I was dreaming. I woke up, got on my phone’s Facebook app and saw something I always dreaded ‘… is in a relationship.’ I cried even more.
She got a job and posted a picture of her business card online. I almost immediately called the number and heard her voice, quickly hanging up. I heard her boyfriend’s voice in the background. They later broke up.
I worked incessantly on perfecting my art, hoping that someday I would recognized on a big enough of a level for her to see that I wasn’t a drug addled moron. I had another dream where my work was being shown at a gallery in New York and she was there. I had fantasied about this moment. When I did approach her, all she said was, “You aren’t quite the person you need to be yet.” I replied, “I know.” I woke up crying again.
For reasons unrelated to her, I ended up losing my mind and was convinced that I need to rid of all negative energy in my life. I wrote her a long-winded letter telling her that she was my muse, but she would never hear from me again. I broke this pledge after I wrote and recorded a song based on or experiences and sent it to her. She thanked me for writing her a song, but said she couldn’t understand the lyrics. I sent them to her, like a fool.
After she graduated, she moved cross country and took a massive road trip to get there. I saw on Facebook one afternoon that she was in the city that I lived in for the afternoon. She even posted her approximate location. My heart started racing and my mouth went dry. In over four years we had never been so close in proximity to each other. I ran to my car and put the keys in the ignition, but stopped myself. How would she react to seeing me? What would I say? I couldn’t answer these questions, so I didn’t start the car.
When she did get to her destination, she posted a picture of her apartment building on Facebook. I looked the complex up and saw that they had places for rent. Without even realizing it, I was calling the property owners and inquiring about them. I had no intentions of moving there, I just did it.
I constantly wonder if she still thinks about me. I always doubted it, until last month when I was looking at her Spotify playlists (I refuse to delete her off Facebook, even though I said I would never talk to her again) and I saw one entitled ‘love songs.’ It was littered with tracks I had sent her or she had sent me. Our songs. This made my heart flutter in ways I cannot describe.
Don’t get me wrong, there have been other girls since her. Bur none have truly compared. I keep on putting them against her and none match up.
I don’t know. I sure I’m idealizing some teenage romance that I should have
let go of years ago. But something lingering deep within me hopes and wishes that I will spend the rest of my life with her. If anything, we’ll have one night together. And maybe that will be enough to finally let go.