Don’t Say You Want Me If You Don’t Mean It

We met about a month ago or a bit more than that. You gave me a ride and I innocently thought that that’s all it was. We talked about music, jobs, travels, and love. Yes, the first time we met, you proceeded to tell me how funny it is that some people just meet out of nowhere and end up getting married. Back then, I didn’t say anything about it because I had a boyfriend. A good one. A caring, loving guy who I loved dearly, but not passionately anymore.

Once we got to our mutual meeting, I thought to myself, “Okay, it was just a weird conversation. Life goes on.” Unfortunately, every day you proceeded to come after me. On the first day, you offered me another ride home, which I kindly declined, as you were too drunk. Then you made it look like you were worried about me, asking whether I had already gotten home or not. You even told me you wouldn’t sleep until you knew I was home and safe.

On the last day of our gathering, we had a cocktail night. I put on a white flowy dress to make me feel the tiniest less dirty about everything that I had just felt. You arrived wearing a black shirt and looking exactly like the trouble I was trying to avoid at all costs. And so I did (for some time, at least). I spent the night talking to my friends and having fun while I felt your gaze through the crowded room every time I moved or hugged someone. I could feel your stare as I laughed with other men. Still, I was determined to not look at you.

By the end of the night, you came to say goodbye, and I made the mistake of telling you that it was too soon and that the party had just begun. You took the lead and started explaining to me how good we would look as a couple. You asked to just stay there looking at me. Done. Then you asked me to just hold my hand. Okay, just for a little. You asked me to go home with you. Even though my heart was thumping so loud and everything in me wanted it, I did the right thing and reminded you about my boyfriend.

The next day, you still sent a message telling me that the time for us would come.

A week later, me and my boyfriend broke up. Not because of you, but because we’d been dragging our relationship down for a few months. In fact, you were the exact thing that made us realize how bad it had gotten.

Another week went by, and in my usual self-destructive fashion, I texted you to set up a date. I went to your house. I stayed there throughout the entire day. You called me loving nicknames. You said you couldn’t let go of me. You made me cuddle for hours. You couldn’t stop kissing my forehead or bringing me closer and explained to me what all your favorite frames meant.

And then, obviously, you went mute. A day, two. I did go after you, and you said you wanted to see me. I didn’t answer to that. Again, you said you wanted to see me. I said, “me too,” and told you to let me know whenever you were available. Needless to say, you ghosted me. Gone. As if you just didn’t turn my entire life upside down.

Don’t tell anyone you want to see them if you don’t mean it. Don’t just tell someone how you can’t let go of them and then proceed to do so a few hours later.

Lucky for me, he was nothing but a fling. But it kills me that there are people out there that keep doing things like this at every chance they get. Don’t let yourself fall for it. It’s only shiny until it rains.