Embarrassing Confession Time
I’ve had a hard time letting go of the most recent boy. Mostly because there was nothing really wrong with our relationship, he was just deathly afraid of it. Instead of embracing it, he ran away (literally - ran away - as in no longer in NYC). You’d be proud. I called him the coward he is, the idiot he was and constantly said his decision was stupid. Regardless of the harsh truth I tried to reflect, he still ran, and fast. And although you’re shaking your head muttering under your breath “He’s just not that into you…, it is the truth. I’m a stickler for it, even if acknowledging it hurts me. He’s not ready, for me, for us, to be emotionally involved with anyone. And he might never be.
Part of me desperately clings to the thought that maybe, one day (soon), he’ll come to his senses, and when he does, he’ll remember me, us, and come running. Instead of ignoring the reality that when he does realize he’s “ready” for a relationship he’ll probably just leach on the first girl that drifts his way. (Timing’s a bitch)
So I decided to email him, randomly last week, just to say hi. I hope you’re ok. I miss you.
I started contemplating sending another, sometime in the future, if the words still rang true. Just to remind him I existed. I was still here. That I wouldn’t let go of him, our potential, that easily.
Then I stopped. He knows I exist. He doesn’t need to be reminded. I don’t need to tell him I miss him, or wonder about him. He should know, or if he doesn’t, then he doesn’t care anymore. And neither should I.
It’s time to put on my big girl pants and move on.