I’m sorry I lied to you.
I don’t have an explanation. Maybe I just wanted you to love me, maybe I just wanted to stir the pot and create some drama because God forbid I deserve a mess-free romance with a guy like you. When I come up with a better reason I’ll let you know, but please don’t use that as an excuse for why our relationship fell apart.
You weren’t ready for me. You didn’t know how to handle a girlfriend with two feet on the ground. You wanted the girl I used to be, not the woman I became. You wanted a drinking buddy, not another mom. You wanted a sidekick, not an opponent. Did you feel inadequate because I made more money than you? I’m sorry I criticized you instead of complimenting you. Did you think I was too perfect because your family loved me while my parents questioned your intentions? I’m sorry I latched onto your family to fill my void. Did you feel unworthy of my love?
For awhile I blamed myself for our destruction. I must have demanded too much. I became obsessive, controlling, overbearing. I adopted psycho girlfriend tendencies. Then I remember I became that way because I felt I had to. You didn’t make me feel secure. You made me feel like I had impossible expectations, when really I just had standards. You thought I was criticizing you when really, I saw your potential and pushed you down the path to success. I remember the bad times just as well as I remember our great times. I told myself I would find someone better, someone who didn’t make me feel bad for demanding the best. Someone mature, who was already the person they are meant to be, not a prototype that I needed to help shape.
It’s been a year of the single life, and it’s been a roller coaster. I’ve taken people’s advice, I’ve invested my energy into new hobbies. I’ve channeled my free time into old passions and I have found myself. I have empowered my ego knowing I am doing things for me with the time I used to dedicate to you.
I have experienced the highs of new romance, and the lows of realizing he’s not for me. And just like an addict, I have relapsed. I have consciously opened the door inviting you back into my life. My friends, my mom, they all warn me. They tell me you’re trouble, that I’m just lonely, that you’re not worth it.
The truth is I am lonely. I’ve spent a year meeting a few nice guys, and many guys who will say anything just to get my pants off. I’ve spent a year searching for the elusive spark I felt when I met you. Sometimes I think I’ve struck gold. I’ve found a nice guy; one who is intelligent, kind, chivalrous…and boring. You know the nice guy was never my type anyway.
The truth is I have spent a year trying to get over you and though it kills me to admit it, I have failed. You were and still are the love of my life. To me, you’re worth every second you cross my mind. The holes you ripped in my heart showed me what true pain is. The loss that I felt showed me how much I value you. Being with you showed me the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. Maybe I secretly loved the uncertainty of it all. Maybe I lived for the drama, knowing our relationship could come crashing down at any moment. But what I have learned in the last year is that I will not settle for mediocrity. I will not accept a small flame, I want bonfires of desire. I will not accept apathetic feelings, I want passion. We had passion.
People tell me I went wrong when I mistook this feeling for love. I disagree. I think love is when you can look at a person and feel as though as a piece of you exists inside of them; that to lose this person would mean losing a part of who you are, a part of your identity. It is when you muster every ounce of strength you’ve got because you know you will never find another quite like this one. It is when you can communicate without words, when you can feel completely understood without ever explaining yourself.
All I know is that everyone else pales in comparison. You took my four years of college and left your mark everywhere. The years that were meant to be filled with light-hearted fun and academic success, are now recorded in my memory as years of intense emotions, nights of questioning myself, and days of experiencing new things with you. You lit up my life, you set my heart on fire. Looking at you was, and still is like looking in a mirror. Talking to you is like swimming in the Atlantic Ocean while everyone else is content in their kiddie pools. You came into my life like a wrecking ball, and nothing will ever be the same. I swear fireworks go off when we kiss. Being wrapped up in your arms is like coming home.
I know what you’ll say. We’re not good for each other. You’re not ready for a relationship. There’s too much baggage between us now for it to ever work out. I believe you. Everything happens for a reason, and timing is everything. You said it yourself, if we had met each other years down the road, things may have been different, but deep down I wouldn’t have changed a thing. The way we came together was proof enough that fate exists and I can’t help but wonder if those forces will step in again. There has to be a reason I can’t forget about you, right?
But here we are right now. Here we are with more baggage than JetBlue. Here we are texting each other at 2 AM. Here I am following the familiar path to your apartment, replaying memories of our time together with every step. Here I am on your doorstep; the anxiety I’ve spent a year fighting is raging hard enough to make me want to vomit.
And then there you are. Exactly how I remember you.
My anxiety dissolves, and I find myself taking in everything. I’m taking in the sound of your voice as it sings that one country song I spent months trying to get you to like. Now you love it. I’m taking in the smell of the cologne I bought you last Christmas, and I wonder if you remember me when you wear it. I’m committing it all to memory because I never know when I’ll see you next.
I don’t know where we stand. Are we friends now? Are you over me? I know you still care because of the way you look at me. You used to tell me I’m beautiful, now you just brush my hair out of my face. You used to tell me you love me, now you just say, “It’s good to see you.” You used to say you love spending time with me, instead you just invite me to stay the night. Are you holding back? Are you protecting your heart?
It’s okay. Tomorrow is a new day. I’ll tell my best friend everything, we’ll analyze your words and actions. We’ll post pictures on Instagram so you can see how happy and great I look. She’ll make me feel better, tell me it’s definitely not over between you and I, and then we’ll go get our nails done like any other Sunday. I’ll put a smile on my face, continue on with my routine, and find temporary peace in my yoga class. I’ll tell myself you don’t matter.
Until the next time I’m lonely. Until the next time I’m drunk. Until the next time I fail to find that spark with someone else. Until the next time I hear a song that takes me back to a memory with you. Then I’ll be right back on your doorstep, ripping open the old wounds once again, ready for my next hit. I’ll be right there, clinging to the hope that you and I are destined for more than this.
I hope that someday when you’re ready for a relationship, I’ll be the first one on your list. I hope that when you decide you’re ready for a woman like me, you’ll have the courage to call.
And I hope that when that day comes, I will have moved on.