Tl;Dr: Long sad tale as old as time - I like him, he didn’t appreciate that. At all, no sireee. I want to cry or throw up.

Apologies for how exceptionally long this is.

I’ve actually wanted to write about this before but haven’t, I guess because I was afraid of all the sensible realistic advice I’d get? Or maybe because I don’t write or comment often (though I spend hours a day lurking), so I thought you’d ignore me?

I started seeing a guy about 6 weeks ago. It was chill, no big deal, just hanging out, all that stupid heard-it-before bullshit. I’ve known him for years, always thought he was adorable, finally the stars aligned and I ran into him when we were both un-attached.

I wasn’t supposed to like him. He didn’t want to date, that’s cool because I didn’t want to date. Except I started to have all the feeeeeeeeeels, which as we all know is so strictly goddamned forbidden. How dare I like a guy who is fun, and charming, and sexy, and so painfully handsome, shares so many of my quirky likes, has enough differences to be interesting, and is kind? I mean, what the hell, that’s just STUPID, right?


We went on some dates, and then it stared to become a bit booty call-ish. Like “I’ve been out with my friends for a few hours you can come by if you want. Oh hey you’re here, let’s go back to your place where I will either sex you up or just sleep, bye friends!” Which started to upset me. Invite me out at the beginning of the night, bub! Or I’d ask him to do something and he’d say he wanted to but couldn’t ever agree to a time, said he didn’t like making plans, and then would make plans with his friends while I was there, but when I asked about the thing he kept saying he wanted to do, oh no sorry can’t. Maybe tomorrow. But then tomorrow, nope, sorry can’t. Or the flurry of texts followed by two days of silence and not answering my texts which made me feel both stalkery and desperate/pathetic.

It started to get to me, you know? And as we all do, I talked about it with my friends. Or I drove my friends nuts with my constant mooning over this guy and my belief that he was ghosting, finally done this time. Except, wait! He just texted, he wants to see me, yaaaay! I was blowing off my friends, or pushing them to go out so that I’d have a reason to be out and try to run into him or at the very least just not look like a loser sitting home waiting for his 9pm or later text.


Last night I asked one of my best friends - a guy - to go out. As we were on our way to the place, He texted, wanted to go out. I said I’d swing by and get him. My friend got pissed off, said he was tired of seeing me hurt myself over and over about this guy and I kept jumping when he snapped his fingers and he wasn’t goignt to go out and pretend he liked “that douchebag”, and he got out of the car at a light and left... Which is weird and annoying on its own, but was also a serious “wtf am I doing” moment. (And Friend and I aren’t romantic. A few years ago we slept together and I made romance noises and he shut that down (gee, sound familiar?), but since then we are just very good friends).

So I went out with Him, for about 2 hours and then, surprise, he wanted to go back to my place. We got here, hung out a little, made out, and then he, also surprise, fell asleep. I didn’t, I sat and stewed about what I needed to do, and felt my stupid heart cracking all night. He woke up, we had sex, laid in bed, talked, cuddled, it was....everything. Then we went out to breakfast, he made some noises about seeing a band ( no mention of with me) this weekend, and then mentioned that he’d made plans on Monday to go out Wednesday night with a guy friend of his.


And I knew that I couldn’t put it off. Something had to change and I couldn’t keep feeling like a taxi-hotel-sex convenience who always had to be chill and cool and fake and sad and crazy about him. I had planned to drive to a park on the way to his house so that I could say my (rehearsed) piece. But I chickened out. Finally, just before his house (stupid stupid stupid)

Me: I can’t keep doing this like this.

Him: what, the radio?

Me: No, this, us. Not like this. I like you. (Him: oh?) and I wasn’t supposed to like you (Him:Oh...), but I do (Him:OH!!!) and I can’t not like you so something has to change.


Him: okay well then we’ll just be friends and no more sex.

Me: (in full stress-babble) and I LIKE YOU and it’s dumb and I’m leaving soon anyway (leaving for about 6 months at the end of June), and I really enjoy being with you but I can’t do this, I need more or less, but not THIS.


Him: okay it’s less, then (as we pull up to his house, and he’s frantically reaching for the door handle) okay well thanks for breakfast and I’ll talk to you later, kay, bye.

Me: (as he’s practically rolling out of the car before it stops moving) so just this is awkward and you don’t want to talk about it so you’re gonna run away?


Him: yup. Bye.

I had hoped we could figure out together what “more” we could both be comfortable with. I had hoped he liked me enough to at least talk to me. I was emboldened by the post about Playing a Game of Chicken by someone in a similar situation, thinking that maybe it could be as lucky for me.


I was wrong, and I’m sad. I’m so so sad. Part of me thinks that if I’d just played the chill girl game for a little longer, he’d come to care for me a bit and would want to explore the possibility of “more” (I’m not talking marriage, dude, just a bit more time and attention, jeez). But that’s a lie, isn’t it? No matter how much time and chill I gave him, I’d never be more than a taxi-hotel-sex thing. It would have already happened in the last 6 weeks, and he wouldn’t have firmly chosen “less” within a second of me saying it.

So I’m sad and feeling a bit broken and like I want to hurl. I did the right thing. The stress, constant anxiety, and emotional turmoil was really getting to me, and negatively affecting my other relationships. But Jesus, WHY CANT HE JUST LIKE ME?! Why couldn’t he have just wanted to even see what “more” looked like? Why can’t I ever be enough? Why couldn’t he have played the part for a few more weeks until I left and end it then (which was kind of my plan anyway, I wasn’t going to try to keep a summer fling going past when I left) ?


Why is it so horribly unforgivable to care about people, and want to be cared for in return?