We met at a party. I liked you, you liked me. We exchanged numbers, went for coffee, went for drinks, caught a movie. We didn’t want to label it. We were having fun.
There were no strings in our non-relationship. No commitment, no exclusivity. Just me and you and fun.
What we had was amazing. Liberating. Guilt-free. Neither of us wanted strings and so we cut them and threw them away.
But the scariest part about starting a non-relationship is the fear. The fear of losing you, the fear of someone catching feelings and getting hurt, the fear of sending a text and never hearing a response.
The fear of crossing the boundary from non-relationship to actual relationship. The fear of spoiling the fun.
We balanced on a tightrope, afraid to teeter one way towards commitment or the other towards falling apart.
Sometimes, I would message you and you’d leave me on “seen.” Did I say something stupid? Was that inappropriate? Were you done with me now?
Other times, we’d talk all night. Our favorite TV shows, books, movies. Our friends. Where we grew up. What we wanted from life.
But every time I saw you, sparks flew and adrenaline rushed. We didn’t know what we were, but it was something. We didn’t want to commit but we wanted to have each other.
It must’ve been too much to ask for. One day, the calls stopped, the late night chats disappeared, and I didn’t know the last time I saw you would be the last time I’d ever see you.
I wonder if, sometimes, you think of me, too.