We met on Bumble.
I'm so, so, so tired of writing heartbroken posts that start with that sentence. It's just that I was probably lying in the previous ones. I didn't love any of them as I love him. I was egobroken back then. And in addition to being heartbroken, I am also pissed off now.
364 days ago, my aunt dropped me off at the Town Center. We had said we'd meet for drinks there, but since it's a really small town nothing in the couple of blocks that constitute the Town Center was open. I was there early because his drive was longer than he thought and I beat the GPS by five minutes. I was wearing a fool proof first date shirt, if said date was casual. It's green. Well, greenish. Fashionistas would call it mint and it has tiny white little dots. I matched my Chuck Taylors and was out the door.
He said I had to look for the pink SUV. I laughed and hoped he wasn't joking. I'd love to date a guy that had the guts to drive around in a pink SUV. He was funny, I'd been cracking up pretty often for the past few weeks. I walked over to where he parked and our date started. He opened the door for me, which awarded him instant Nina Points. And also opened the door for me when we were getting off the car. He tried to not pay attention to the football game on the screen and most of the time he managed to do so, because the conversation was really good. Modestia aparte. I almost hurt my neck from whipping my hair from side to side.
Until late November, we talked every day. FaceTimed at least twice a week and built a bond. I had plans. We had plans and now they're ruined. I dream about him every forking day. I lost my temper just twice and I should find my self esteem, because he fucked up many times and I let it go. Until I couldn't. Until it all became too much.
I missed loving someone unconditionally. And I loved him that way, unconditionally. I say loved because I'm forcing myself to quit. Unlike my disgusting smoking habit, that I gave up trying now.
I miss his good morning texts. I miss his hugs. I miss all I thought we'd have. I missed laying in a guy's arms.
This year was supposed to be amazing.
Where's the amazingness?
I walk past what's left of the Christmas tree and see his presents and it just breaks my fucking heart.
I have loved him even though he wouldn't come to my birthday. I've stopped talking to people for months because they didn't come to my birthday. Shouldn't a man who claims to love me get the same treatment? Mind you, the people I refused to talk to weren't even that close. I was young and even more intensa, yes. Why did he get away with it?
Yes. He's had a rough time lately, but isn't that what couples are for? To help and support and lean on each other? He loves me so little he didn't even let me do that.
Where has he been all this time? Why didn't you write about him? Because I wanted a different outcome. If I blog about people too soon, se empava. Different procedure, same result.
Not even that.
One year ago today, we had our first date.
When I started writing this post, I was sad. Now I'm just mad AF. At him, but specially at me because I can't believe I let this happen to me again.