People say it’s possible to love too much, and that it’s also possible to love too little. Sometimes you don’t give it your all, or maybe you don’t care enough. But what about the grey area? What about the spot in between all of that? What about a place that no one defines, including you, and including me?

You don’t need to define anything. You can just be. Together. You are what you can be to me, and I am what I can be to you. At least that’s what I told myself. No expectations to meet or hold you to. Because expectations are just a setup for disappointment right?

No titles to tell us what this means or what it has to mean. No title such as “girlfriend” to validate being mad at me if I can’t make your improv show. No title such as “partner” to validate being upset with me if I decide to stay home one night instead of grab dinner with you. No title such as “boyfriend” to validate being hurt if you sleep with someone else.

No titles and no pressure.

You can live your life with me sometimes, and I with you. It’s “casual.” It’s grey. Because things aren’t just black and white, right?

You can text me for dinner when you feel up to it. I can meet you on Monday. We will drink until the late hours and head back to your place. We sleep together and when we’re done, turn in different directions. I wake up to you scrolling on your phone, and we part ways. That’s the routine, anyways.

I can text you on Wednesday. “Come over, let’s watch movies, or create things, or go to a show.” You’d come over and we would talk about projects together. We would watch sitcoms. We would cook food and browse Instagram while lying next to each other. “Have you seen this meme yet?”. We’ll both laugh. You’ll be gone before 11PM because you have work early.

You text me casually over the weekend to meet up for drinks. I bring my friends, you bring yours. Somehow I end up home with you again. I don’t want to stay the night, but I want to stay with you until you fall asleep. I can sneak away and call an Uber. When you wake up in the morning and I am not there, you will not be upset. Because you don’t expect me to be there, and I don’t expect you to want me to be there.

You can’t love too little, and you can’t love too much. You can’t give too little, and you can’t give too much. Nothing is defined, so nothing can be one or the other. It is simply what you wish it to be in those moments. It’s grey.

The grey area is safe because you never have to admit to what you feel or what you don’t feel.

You don’t have to hear what they feel, or don’t feel. The grey area is safe, because you can still be selfish. You can protect yourself from being involved. You never have to face rejection. You never have to acknowledge that you feel more or that they feel more. At least that’s what I told myself.

Until they do. Until you do.

I found myself wanting to text you for dinner plans on a Saturday, so I did. But you were busy, and for some reason, I was hurt.

I found myself wanting to go on trips and adventures with you. But you were busy, and for some reason, I was upset.

I found myself thinking of you in the late hours and wondering where your text was in the early morning, while you laid in the arms of another, unfazed.

I had grown accustomed to waking up to your good morning texts, and falling asleep to your goodnight calls, and for some reason, I was bothered by this.

You found yourself on other dates, with new people, and new places. You still texted me on weekdays to spend time together, but the rest of your life became a mystery.

You found yourself having to explain yourself to me more. Why were you acting this way? Or why did you say this when you really meant this?

I found myself exhausted in trying to understand.

I pulled away to create distance. I pulled away to get rid of these expectations that would never be a reality. I pulled away to get rid of the idea of you and us and those things being together. Once the expectations were there, they were almost impossible to get rid of.

I began to hurt, and you didn’t notice.

You didn’t notice when I wasn’t the same. You didn’t notice when I was busy. You didn’t notice, because you didn’t have to. I lost you, before I ever chose to let you go.

Letting you go wasn’t my choice, and I almost believe it wasn’t yours either. It happened before we realized what we were getting into. It happened when we thought we were still safe.

I lost you to the grey area.