Douchebags Are Not My Type


I tried for you. You never acknowledged me nor my efforts. It tore me into shreds when you finally decided to kick me of your life. Looking back at us, it had been coming for a while, but when you’re blindly in love you become willing to accept any excuse for someone’s behavior.

But I finally let go of you.

Fast forward, a year later. We see each other every day on the train. I let go of you, but the pain haunts me still. With the help of my friends and family, I started to heal. I’m finally healing so please don’t show up so suddenly and pretend to care for me. In the year that you were gone, I’ve witnessed a coworker give his girlfriend roses for her birthday, a friend whose longtime boyfriend proposed, and a professor who still looks at his wife like she’s 20 amongst other experiences.

I can’t tell you how much my heart squirmed when I saw these moments. I can’t tell you how much I wished you’d have treated me the same way as all these other special women have by the equally special men who cared for them very much. I can’t tell you how much I wished, in the year that you left, that you’d call or text me begging for forgiveness. I can’t tell you how disappointing it was to realize each blocked call was from a random caller or a telemarketing agency from New York.

I finally accepted you don’t care for me.

I finally accepted it. In the year, we were “together”, you never returned my messages. Instead, you called me spam and told me to stay away from you. I accepted it and I have returned to making the best of my life with those who lift me up: my friends and family. I’ve been focused on my career. I still spend time with my friends and laugh with my family. I want to be happy. Happiness starts from the inside. I’ve worked hard to have good thoughts, to endure, and reach this level of happiness.

So it’s not fair for you to barge right in and act like you hold feelings for me.

It’s not fair that you can turn my insides into a disarray. A part of my heart still skips a beat for you and the rest, is a squirming mess. The difference between last year and now is the learning and growth that naturally comes with going through horrible experiences. We see each other on the train. You can look as much as you want, but…. I .. I won’t be that girl you can use for your convenience. While I believe you got that message loud and clear when I blocked you off of Facebook 1 year ago, to hit the point home: I’m not yours. I am my own woman. Get out and stay out.

Douchebags are not my type. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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