I know that doesn’t mean much now, especially since you might have dodged a major bullet. “I’m not sorry,” is what you’re thinking, and I get that. But if I could be selfish this one time — or one more time, in some cases — I want to say it:
I’m sorry I never called back. I’m sorry I said we should get a drink, then dropped off the face of the earth. I’m sorry I was too clingy, and I’m sorry I wasn’t clingy enough. I’m sorry I went back and liked your selfie from three months ago, even though we’d just met; I can see how that might have come across as a little weird. I’m sorry I got drunk and passed out without writing back. I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you when I had the chance, and I’m sorry I tried to when I didn’t.
Little things, maybe. Water under the bridge, possibly. But here’s the thing — every relationship is perfect in theory. When it’s still hypothetical, before we have a chance to screw it up… everything works. So I think, if I don’t text her back, or, if I just wait to make a move, then I can’t screw anything up, and it could still be perfect. And maybe, in some universe, it could be. But right then, right there, I missed my chance for it to actually work. And instead of doing what I should do, I did the other thing.
And like I said — my loss, not yours. Because you’re probably with somebody who did take a chance. But there was a moment there — maybe it was when we first met, maybe it was those two weeks when we were flirting via text message, maybe it was a long slow simmer that almost boiled over — where we were both thinking: I want this. This is exactly what I’m looking for, this is ec-fucking-zactly what I want right now, if he would just — if she would just — if we could just let each other know it.
And just like that, it’s gone.
So I promise: Next time, I’m going to take that chance. Next time, I’m not going to lose you. But as for last time… what can I say?