On our first date, a toddler stumbled over to our table and I took that as a sign.
On our second date, you pulled me in for our first kiss – the best kiss I’ve ever had – in front of McDonald’s out of all places. Side note: not where we went for our date.
On our third date, when you had already pulled me in with your Southern charm, you told me that you weren’t sure about monogamy because you wanted to move away from NY after law school.
Confused, agitated, and already invested in you, we went to a comedy show for our fourth date. We got heckled by the comic (bi-racial couples are a goldmine), did some tequila shots, and went back to your place.
Did I mention I did those shots on an empty stomach? Rookie mistake, I know.
You didn’t try anything when we got back to your place. You held my hair back. You poured me a glass of water and watched me drink it until it was all done. We watched country music videos on your couch with my head on your lap.
I knew I shouldn’t have, but I thought, wow, is this what happiness is?
The dates that followed were a blur.
You were busy with finals.
You said that you always would make time for me, but you never followed through.
You got so drunk that you forgot you made plans with me.
Soon enough, you left for Vermont.
We kept in touch for a few weeks. You were lonely in a new city. You asked me to come visit.
I went to Cuba and you never contacted me once.
But you re-appeared for my birthday.
I said goodnight after we talked and neither of us texted the other again.
Last night, and not so out of the blue because of law school starting back up, you texted me “I’m finally back in the city but wanted to say I’m sorry for ghosting this summer. Hope grad school goes great!”
We exchanged one or two more pleasantries.
You said, “If you ever want to grab a drink or hang out, feel free to give me a shout.”
Whether you’re currently dating someone or not (your Insta reveals that you may be), I’m sorry, I don’t have an open-door policy, and I already have drinks on the books for tonight.