I remember 'saying' to him, in the midst of a desperate plea to know what was going on: "I wanted so bad to fall in love with you."
No, I didn't just think it. I said it. Yikes. There were immediate environmental circumstances involved - maybe the bottle of wine on the floor was a clue. But there were emotional circumstances right there at the surface, causing my fingers to type and hit 'send' before my brain had the chance to catch up.
It was one of the many one-sided conversations I had with him, just trying to figure it all out.
Embarrassing, right?
The back story is pretty boring. Dated this guy for a little over a month. Originally, HE pursued me. The way he stated it was that I was part of some New Year's resolution thingy. He texted. We hung out. He didn't 'just' want to have sex. And one day, he disappeared.
No explanation from him. And we were done. Although it took me a couple months - and him de-friending me on Facebook - to catch up.
I had considered him to be my chance to finally realize that I was not broken. That I could have a normal relationship, with normal men, who were vaguely my age. That people would want to DO things with me, rather than just DO me.
Come to find out, it wasn't my time for that epiphany. He had an amazing group of friends, but I pretended too much and tried too hard. He wasn't the guy. I wasn't his one. My post-psycho-behavior was fueled by the 'ghosting', not because of what we 'had'. Which, in all honesty, was just a couple of dates and nothing more.
And I'm glad.
You heard me.
I'm awfully fucking glad.
It was ME that had to tell me I wasn't broken. That's MY job...not someone else's.
And besides, just think of all that I would have missed.
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