Our usual

I was surprised and disappointed to see your number appear on my screen. I don’t have your contact saved anymore but I knew it was you. Why now? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t panic. I felt my stomach clench, my head spin, and my thoughts start to race. What the actual fuck? It felt like I could vomit so I poured myself a healthy serving of tequila.

My life is rich without you. It’s simpler in a lot of ways. Things with you were complicated. For me at least. I have everything I need and more, but seeing your number makes me feel like I’m missing something.

You put two words together and texted them to me. Bravo. What did you expect? Did you actually think I’d take you up on your offer? Were you hoping I’d respond in my way that I know you love so much? You said I ruined witty banter for you. You’ve never met anyone else like me? What were you thinking?

This is exactly why I love read receipts. I didn’t know how to respond but you know I saw it. There’s a time stamp to prove it and you know without a doubt that I chose to not respond. Even though I still want to. A wise man once told me the worst thing you can do to someone is ignore them. I don’t know who this is worse for, me or you. Does it even bother you?

Thank God for that wedding. A perfect distraction. Albeit, the thought of you crossed my mind more than once. Especially in the moments when I ducked out of the reception and took myself on a moonlit stroll through one of the most beautiful properties I’ve set foot on. I kept wishing you were there. We’d have a lot of fun as wedding dates.

In another life, I would’ve taken you up on your offer. I would’ve said yes to our usual bet and you would owe me dinner. Our usual. But things are different now and for the first time maybe ever, I don’t know what to say to you. Maybe you’ll get a taste of what it feels like to not know how someone feels about you.

I still wish you were here. I wish we were sitting here together looking out onto the ocean with nothing but time and a bottle of rosé. You’d love the view. Epic sunsets. The kind that I want(ed) to watch with you. But you’re not here, you’re there.

I keep reminding myself it’s better this way. I don’t need you and I hate the part of me that misses you. Until it’s gone, it will suck. But in response to your ridiculous, outlandish, out-of-nowhere question – if you wanted to take me out to dinner, you could’ve just asked. But I suppose that was never our usual.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s