First of all I would like to say, I don’t hate you. As much heartache and pushing and pulling of my heartstrings you have done I can’t bring myself to hate you. I will always have the good memories. You know the first time we met that summer night at the rodeo. I hadn’t really noticed you but at one moment to the next I was drawn to you. Not knowing you had already asked my friend about me and she added that disclaimer, “she has a boyfriend.”
No I did not go up and talk to you with the intention of sparking up that firework that both of us seemed to have inside us but had been so reluctant to ignite. It all started off completely normal, those conversations you have with people you talk to at a house party in college. It was so easy, too easy it seemed like.
You were aware I had a boyfriend, I was aware I was in a commitment. No I don’t justify in any way what I felt for you but my relationship was in shambles. My boyfriend at the time was drowning himself night after night in alcohol and I had forgotten what it felt like to want to be someone’s significant other and not their mother picking them up off the bathroom floor.
I was damaged goods. I told you this in a roar of laughter, half of that laughter being nervousness and the other half the alcohol taking effect. It was nice to feel like that again, to feel wanted and to feel like someone was paying attention to me.
We exchanged numbers that night. I couldn’t say that I wouldn’t see you again because that would have been a lie in itself. It was inevitable. There were 5 days left in the rodeo and I was fully aware you would be my favorite part of it all.
You were so cute. The way you catered to me and cared about my feelings when it came to other girls that whole week. It’s all so weird looking back at it now. We moved too fast, too intensely but it all seemed, just normal. A week later and after seeing you 11 times I had completely fallen for you. Yes it may have been fast but I didn’t care neither did you.
I ended my relationship and I told you and everyone else that it wasn’t for you that it was for me and having to let go of the acidity of the relationship but, deep down I knew it was for you. It was for what you had shown me my life could be like.
Cooking me dinner, swallowing your pride and watching the Bachelorette with me when I was freaking out because I wasn’t going to make it home in time to watch it. You were my type of perfect and there was nothing that I wanted more in life then to see myself with you.
Then my trip came. That week-long trip that seemed to have put some doubt in your mind about whether your feelings for me were real. Whether what you saw in me those first couple months was nothing but an illusion. I came back to everything completely changed. I didn’t get my good morning texts.
The constant communication fell down to “hey what’s up” maybe every other day. Even to this day I couldn’t tell you what happened. I saw you once at a music festival after that and you let me know that I needed to “do me”. I took that very literal and went on my way and found someone that night who I found interesting and somewhat caught my eye.
The view of me talking to someone and noticing that same nervous laugh coming from me was obviously too much to bear because you followed by getting completely belligerent and telling me you never expected me to bring out that feeling in you. That feeling you claim you had NEVER felt. Jealousy. Oh that beautiful green monster that seems to peek out in the most unexpected manners. I thought we had talked it out and things were going to go back to how they were. I was on cloud 9. You didn’t show up the next night. I didn’t hear from you. I was left in the dark again.
I was fine. I had come to terms with the fact that it was all a beautiful encounter and you gave me feelings that I had trouble remembering what they felt like.
Fast forward 3 weeks and I get a call at 3 a.m. and low and behold it was you. Drunk and stranded. You needed me. I couldn’t just leave you. I told myself that I was done but there you were pulling at my heart strings again. I picked you up and took you home. You thought it would all go back to normal.
That you could ask me to stay, have sex and I would say yes. But that’s all it came down to wasn’t it? I wouldn’t have sex with you and that killed you. I always said no and that was too much to bear. I didn’t want to just mess it all up with sex but it was just too important to you.
I still see you around and you still decide to make a scene and bother your friends with stories of me I’m sure. I don’t see your arms flailing as your explaining something and I can feel their eyes burning at the back of my head. Surprisingly I don’t care anymore. You can keep grabbing girls and making sure you’re dancing or talking right next to where I happen to be. I gave it all I had and hung on for dear life. But you were my illusion.
I don’t hate you. I want to thank you. For giving me the courage to leave the life I thought I was destined to have. For igniting that fire within me again. And for showing me what love is and how I am supposed to feel about the person I’m meant to be with.