It was the same song over and over. There were 14 songs on that album and we must’ve listened to each one about 20 times. Approximately. Over the course of one week. It was monsoon season in the Maldives.
5 years. This was the high point… or low point… of this non-relationship-thing we had. I had. In my head… I do that.
Surely, we all have had unreciprocated romantic relations, intentions, affairs, things, whatever you want to call it. That’s it though: those “things” are difficult to define, which should be a blazing red flag that it’s never going to be what you wished it would have been. Unless you just want a “thing”. I had never believed in anything so much as I had in him coming around and finally admitting “You’re right; I’ve been afraid of commitment, but I’m ready now and you’re the one”. I know… I have the same expression on my face right now… NOW, years later.
5 years of mostly dirty texts and good intentions. And one vacation that ended up with me in tears and him more stressed out than when we arrived. A f***ing fairy tale, I tell ya. It was still paradise. I remember when we had just set foot in our room and shared the bottle of welcome-bubbly, still in awe of the pool in front of our little bungalow, right by the ocean too. We laughed and had the greatest time. I think it was almost a whole week that we made it without the girl (i.e. me) asking for a definition (again) of what we were. I was still in college and had skipped an important exam to go. Ok, it wasn’t really important at all, but I still decided a vacation to the Maldives with the person I’d been wanting to be with for a year at that time was a definite priority. The professor allowed me a make-up exam. He was cool like that.
I thought I would be more emotional writing about him and our time together… or not together, but I guess I’ve been over him for a while. Took me long enough. I cried way too many tears and spent way too many nights waiting for him to text or call or respond to a text. The headaches from estimating the right time and content to text… After we had decided that at least we wouldn’t have a relationship, but rather a physical arrangement, it didn’t make it any easier. I say “we”, but in reality it was him who led the way and I followed. I started writing and inviting, he didn’t object. He started texting, I didn’t object.
Why would you have to try to make someone be interested in you? Or love you? Unless you thought there was a SLIGHT chance in hell that they might come around… That thought almost 100 percent of the time turns out to be toxic.
I must admit, I had fun with my friends, planning all the encounters and texts that would perhaps lure him back in and respond, meet up, etc. It always worked and made me hopeful. I celebrated every one of his texts, his responses. I needed those for my ego at the time. I cherished every date we had. Or non-date. Whatever.
He tried to tell me so many times that he’s not interested, but I kept going back. Because I never believed him. God. How naïve can one person be?! I had this one friend, my best friend at the time, who kept insisting that I will end up with him. This was oil to my fire. Screw the nay-sayers. And I always ended up in tears.
But then he texted again.
And everything started over.
The hope, the spark, the casual “ah, let’s just see where this goes”.
We couldn’t let go. Every date I’ve been on after him could never live up to what I had in mind with this guy. He was everything to me. And I believe he is the only one who ever truly broke my heart.
Day 12: Someone who broke your heart