I have never been in a long-term romantic relationship. That is a little painful to say at the ripe age of 28. I’ve had some close encounters, peaks behind the curtain if you will. I feel I’m often right on the edge of something big, maybe even feeling something real, and then I fall into a whole lot of nothing below me. No one to catch me as I see all of the potential rushing by me, floor by floor, every missed opportunity waving to me as I crash down further and further into the abyss below.
Last summer, I came in contact with a man-shaped-void who said so many lovely things during a 3-hour coffee date. We sat across each other on a park bench during a sweet, warm day, watching him smile as he talked enthusiastically about music and art. His fair fell in his eyes, and I wished I could have reached out and pushed it back so I could see him better, really see him, even with the mask he was wearing so well. He beamed as I told him I could make beet borscht from scratch, and told me how he would love taking me record shopping.
We talked for a few weeks after that, and met up a handful of times, but nothing came of it, nothing worth speaking of. I felt him slip from my grasp, and I attempted to hold on tighter than I would like to admit. Slippery mother-fucker. I may have even shed a tear or two (or three or four… hundred.. thousand). I hate to say it, all that potential, it got to me.
The talking-stage is full of those moments, hopeful moments, full of unsaid expectations, it’s hard not to give in and let yourself be taken away. Next thing you know, you’re holding your pillow in your sleep a little too tightly, texting them later and later into the evening, and you haven’t even kissed them yet.
Or maybe you did kiss the void, maybe you felt each other up on your couch and watched Toradora together. Maybe you went to the movies, went book shopping, and spent a little too much time running your hands through his hair. I wonder what it’s like to be the one who finally makes a non-committal person cave, make them say “I want you” instead of just “I want to fuck you.” It was fun in the moment, I have to say, I can’t ignore how fun it is to know there’s no pressure. I can’t believe I ever asked for vulnerability, I don’t know what I was thinking.I guess I was thinking something, maybe I was thinking I would be the one to make them cave. Just a little. Tell me I’m pretty. Say something. He had nice eyes, too. They always do.
Some situations are less obvious, though I mean, you have your friends-with-tension. Those are fun. You never kiss (except maybe during high school play rehearsal), and they don’t ask you to dance at grad, but they do press their leg against yours under a table and breathe their coffee-scented breath in your face. They say, “Don’t date me,” but “If you ever want to experiment, let me know.” Experiment with what? Hurting my own feelings? Do I look like a glutton for punishment? Don’t answer that.
When you look into a void, you can choose to see as much as you want to see. You can imagine all the possibilities, it’s exciting, looking into them and reaching and reaching, and suddenly you’re enveloped in them. Breadcrumbs are so delicious when you haven’t been fed in hours, days, weeks. You might even become more like the void to make yourself feel at home. Timing responses, trying not to seem so excited.
At times, I’ve practically begged for more; those are the most embarrassing times to look back on in my dating history. Please, please, please. And I have become like the void. I’ve ghosted them on purpose after feeling ghosted myself. I’ve shown up looking sexy at places I knew the void would be, just so I could avoid conversation with them. Not my proudest moments, not my finest hours, though the mutual rejection was delightful in a masochistic sort of way.
I’m tired of being on my knees begging only to receive so little, I think maybe I’m finally coming to realize I deserve better than a situation, than the empty spaces in between. I guess what I’m trying to say is…
To all the voids I’ve had situationships with before,
Thanks
(But no thanks)
Love,
Angel