“I don’t think I ever want children, let alone to get married.”

This is something you told me the day after the night we met. You kissed me and held my body in a way that felt like you’d lost me for so long and had finally found me again. You came to visit every night, and you’d carry me up to the hood of your car and kiss me like there was no tomorrow. It was just you and I, alone in the quiet, almost in love.

You wanted me, you showed me how much you wanted me, and I knew.

When you said those words, I had to ask, “But what if you met a girl who’d make you change how you felt about marriage and having children?” You said you didn’t know. And so I was determined.

You were a tough one to crack. You were quiet, intellectual, and enjoyed the comfort of your own space. You didn’t seem to mind having me around, even if I had to convince you to come see me at times. But you showed me a part of you that was entirely different from the version of you your friends knew.

I thought to myself how perfect this was going to be. Finally, someone who was as introverted and peaceful as I was. Someone who enjoyed the simplicity and the natural state of being. Someone who was so passionate about what he does. But you had your walls so up high when it came to me that even if you loved to hold my hand and looked at me like I took your breath away every time, it still felt as if you had one foot out the door. You saw love as a distraction from the career-oriented life you had set for yourself.

I wanted to be the girl who’d guide you out of your comfort zone a little while still enjoying the safety of it. I wanted to be the girl you took on boat rides during sunset, kissing you with a glass of wine on one hand and another arm around you. I wanted to be that girl you spent lying on the beach with for an entire day with, just reading books. I wanted to be the girl you’d lie down on the floor of the bedroom with as we contemplated the world. But I wasn’t, and I know I couldn’t be.

I look at you with her, almost a year after we met, with big smiles on your faces, doing things and living a life I thought I’d have with you.

Bittersweet.

I can’t help but feel disappointed, but I’m glad you’ve found her.

But still, I wonder, is she everything I wanted to be for you? Has she finally made you change your mind about what you’d told me before? Do you finally see a future with your own family? And are you happy?

If she has, and if you are, maybe that’s all that should matter. Even if I wasn’t the girl next door who’d change your life, I hope I was the girl who’d helped you realize that there’s more to love than what you initially thought. I hope you’ve opened your heart to love and all that it has to offer.

Even if it doesn’t come from me.