I Really Liked You, You Idiot

I liked you. You liked me. I flirted with you and you flirted right back. So why didn’t we end up together? Why did we get caught in a game of bashfulness and banter if it wasn’t going to lead to something more? Why did we hover on the edge of commitment without ever tumbling over the side?

Were you afraid of dubbing me your girlfriend? Were you worried that you wouldn’t have enough time for me, that other things would get in the way, that you’d end up hurting me? Or were you more worried about me hurting you? Did you freak out about your growing potential to love me? Did you pull away, because you were terrified of how hard you’d fall, and that if I hurt you, you’d never find the will to stand again? 

Or did you just prefer flirting to dating? Did you like the thrill of pressing your lips against my skin without the obligation to call me in the morning or pick me up at the airport? Did you like the power you held whenever we locked eyes, the control you had over my thoughts that would most likely fade if we became a boring old couple?

Or were you just leading me on, because there was another girl you liked better? Someone whose beauty rivaled mine. Someone that made you talk longer and smile wider. Someone that you spent your nights thinking about while I was stuck daydreaming about you. Someone that I didn’t even realize existed, even though you valued her existence over mine.

Or were you just a complete idiot? Did you think you had more time, that I’d always be there for you to snatch away? Did you misjudge your approach, try to play hard to get, and take things too slowly? Did you accidentally ruin our chances of living together, spending our mornings making love and nights reading by moonlight? Did you, mistakingly but royally, fuck up?

I want to know why our flirting never evolved into something more. I want to know if, whenever you see one of my Instagram photos or bump into me at a bar, you wonder what could have been. If you hate yourself for losing me. If you’ve ever counted the ways you could reenter my life.

But mostly, I want to know if you think about us half as much as I do.