It all started in Greece two summers ago. We were both on vacations with our families. We didn’t know each other but our families were seated together at the same table one night. He was right next time and we hit it off instantly, spending nearly every moment together for the rest of the week.
We went sailing (my first time), walked on the beach late at night, stocked up on the free cocktails at lunchtime, exchanged music, and had sex (also my first time).
Since then our story has been a complicated one. After Greece, we stayed in contact for a year. We sent each other goodies in the mail from our respective countries: classy chocolate from his and American junk food from mine. The following summer, I booked a trip to Europe from the US, and he invited me to stay with him. I spent just under a week with his family. It was perfect. We had both just come from fizzled out relationships. The following fall, I was studying abroad in Barcelona. He promised he’d visit and booked his ticket 2 months in advance. We talked every day for the rest of the summer — text, FaceTime, Facebook, Snapchat, everything.
I never liked anyone the way I liked him.
Then came the fall, and he visited. It was amazing. Our relationship, even though we weren’t in a defined relationship, seemed to be at its peak. I felt so open and comfortable. I wanted to be around him all the time. We went to an amusement park on our last day together. We both still have the entrance bracelets. He talked about coming to New York—to my school—for graduate school someday. He talked about coming to see me in Amsterdam in a couple weeks. He talked about a lot of things and I believed every single one of the things he told me. Then, it was as if he didn’t know where to go with his emotions. And, thus, came the free fall.
He returned home. His behavior change. He started acting weird. Scared. He cared about me a lot, but seemed to realize that we could never truly be together. Then, he got mean. He trivialized everything. He told me this was all too much. That he didn’t want me to come visit him again because he didn’t want to bring some “random” girl around with him to all his classes… after I had showed him off to all my friends, introduced him to the people in my classes, and was proud to have him in my life. After he had told me he loved me only a week ago.
What, am I not good enough for yours? We can only exist together in my life?
I told him that if he has no intention of seeing me again while I’m still in Europe, and closer to him than ever, then he should stop talking to me and let me move on with my life. But he didn’t. We met again. This time in Paris, the weekend before my trip abroad was coming to an end. We went ice skating and ordered room service. I felt the tension, partly because I couldn’t let go of his weird behavior over the last few months. We still talk. We still Snap. He still has not let me go. But there aren’t cute hearts anymore. Since our time in Barcelona, he responds to my messages when he feels like. There’s not excitement. I feel taken for granted.
A part of me is mad at him because there was no apology for a shift in behavior. There’s no remorse for staying in my life even though it hurts me. He’s jealous when it comes to my love life. He told me yesterday that I wouldn’t be able to just move on and forget about him. He knows he’s special. But that doesn’t mean he gets to just pick me up and play with me when he wants.
So this is a letter I’ll never send.
This is why you can’t let me go but have me too.
I don’t like uncertainty. It makes me anxious. But at the same time, the more I press you for answers, the more you pull away. You told me that you loved me and now all of a sudden you’re withdrawing, acting like our time together, months we spent texting everyday, staying in each other’s lives, despite the fact that we live thousands of miles apart, was nothing but a fun little game.
You’re trivializing how close we got because you’re scared of the feelings…well maybe you can run away from me and hide, but you can’t run away from the feelings for me. They will follow you and I know they’re there. By trying to pretend we mean less to each other than we do, you’re making it worse on both of us. Why not just experience and enjoy our time together? Even if it means that saying goodbye—until next time—will hurt more, I’m still on your continent and I’m closer to you now than we’ll ever get, yet I feel even further apart than before. The fact that you told me you don’t want to be seen with me on your university campus because you don’t want to bring some “random” girl to around with you to all your classes is so selfish. Especially considering I showed you off to all my friends, introduced you to the people in my classes, and was proud to have you in my life. What, am I not good enough for yours? We can only exist together in my life?
Tell me how can I go from being your “princess,” “baby,” “mon coeur” to just some “random girl” Ouch. I told you I understand. I understand you wouldn’t want me to ruin your chances at building something with another girl if that’s what you want. But I don’t. Plus, that’s not even what you seem to be doing. You told me you fucked four girls in the past two weeks. To me, that doesn’t sound like you’re trying to build anything with anyone else.
It sounds like you’re a scared boy—yes, a boy, not a man—that doesn’t want to deal with his complicated feelings so he goes and does what feels good in the moment. But it’s not really satisfying in the end, is it? Which is why no, that’s not what I’m doing. I actually have some respect for myself.
So I’ll tell you this. I don’t like being strung along. You can’t tell me you still love me but then ignore my message. You can’t act like I’m asking for too much from you when all I want is some clear communication. If you think I’m “too much drama” and you don’t have the time or energy to deal with talking to me—and I mean talking, not sending some half-assed memes about McDonald’s once a day—then have the balls to tell me so I can move on with my life.
I’m not going to sit around contemplating if you care enough about me to see me again while you’re out fucking random girls and can’t even bother to get your shit together enough to make a decision. Decisions are tough, but by avoiding making decisions, avoiding me and my feelings, and flip-flopping with your signals and emotions, you’re making everything worse.
I love you and I want us—whatever the fuck us means at this point—to work.
But communication and effort are two way streets and I’ve done more than my part at both of these.
It’s time for you to get your shit together because I’m not going to always be here waiting for you.