I wish I’d never met you. That probably sounds harsh, considering our first date was actually pretty good. You didn’t say anything offensive, you were smart, and sweet, and pretended very convincingly to be interested in me and the things I’m passionate about. You’re gorgeous and charming and genuine. I’ve never met anyone quite like you, and I hate that.
You make me feel like a frumpy little girl trying to ask out the college quarterback. You make me feel like I’m babbling, or not saying enough, or both. You make me feel boring, which makes me overcompensate, which makes me say things that are meant to be charming and sexy- but are really just awkward when I say them out loud. I have a crush on you, and you are so unattainable that I can’t help but feel small.
I haven’t met anyone I like as much as you in a really long time. It takes me so many bad first dates, so many uncomfortable tinder conversations, so many disappointments, before I find someone who I click with. So when I find someone, they’re valuable to me. I worked hard to find them, and that means I’m excited to see them again, to learn more, to feel all fluttery and hope I make them feel fluttery too. You can have any girl you want, at any time, but it’s not like that for me. I have something to lose.
So when you say that you’re only in town for a few weeks, when you hint that you’re not looking for anything serious, that means I’m wasting my time. Sure, we could just have a fling, but when you go I’m going to have to start all over again. I’m going to be alone for months and have to go through so many bad dates and broken hopes and nights alone before I find someone I can enjoy being around. And the fact is, I don’t want another fling. I want to be able to care about someone. I want to remember what it feels like to have someone care about me. I want to be in the kind of relationship where I don’t have to remind myself to pull back because it will inevitably end. I want to believe in happy endings again.
Knowing all that, I said yes to a second date.
A part of me hopes that I’m wrong, that you’ll see something in me that will make you want more. A part of me hopes that even if we never see each other again, that the few weeks we do have will make me see the world in a different way, even if it does break my heart.
You are the kind of guy I fantasize about but didn’t think actually existed. I didn’t think it was possible to have someone who checks off every single box, but you don’t compromise. You’re intelligent, and kind, and you see the good in things without being blinded by irrational positivity or cynicism. You know what it’s like to not be okay. You don’t have everything figured out, but you are decisive, and funny, and so gorgeous that it’s hard to look at you.
You are perfect, and I can’t have you. You don’t want me and you aren’t staying. I have to start all over again and hope that eventually I’ll find someone like you who does want me. Right now, I don’t believe that I can, or that if I do it is going to take me years. I’ll be alone, but I want you now.
The rejection hurts like hell, but even more than that, I’m scared that I won’t find anyone else like you and you’ve ruined falling in love for me. You’re too perfect, and not having met you would have been so much better.