We had chemistry together, second period every other day. I thought you were little and dorky, until we were lab partners and I found you adorable. After we shared our first conversation, to my distaste, summer started. I hardly saw you until Cross Country camp, when we actually hung out for the first time and I realized I truly, really liked you. I liked your humor, your shyness, your opinions on global warming, the way you scooted closer to me when we saw a bear in the woods, how you were the first to notice the bear in the woods, how every time I almost fell when we were hiking you asked if I was alright, how you always passed to me in ultimate frisbee, the way you ran, how you picked me to be on your team for “team building activities,” how you always suggested we play the “fruit or vegetable” game, and a million other things that made me realize I liked everything I knew about you.
Everyone saw us talking, and wanted us to get together. So, I figured it was safe to tell my friends that I liked you, and when I thought you liked me back I told all of your friends when they asked. Whether it be the pressure everyone gave you to ask me out, or the fact that you just really didn’t like me, you started ignoring me, knowing that I still liked you. I’m not a psychopath, I wasn’t going to attack you or automatically assume you loved me just because you were nice to me, but you were too much of an asshole to even attempt at being friendly. That did wonders to my self-esteem, really.
Then homecoming rolled around; I tried to have fun and ignore you, but I couldn’t help but unwillingly catch glimpses of you grinding with all the slutty girls in our school. But did I have enough self-respect to turn away when you asked me to dance? No, of course not. I was too damn happy. I settled for the awkward swaying back and forth because it was you I was doing it with, and that was enough for me. For some stupid reason, that was enough. As you proceeded to get high that night, I told myself I didn’t like you, and I couldn’t believe I wasted so much life on you.
But after a long winter of you ignoring me, the end of the indoor track season came around, and suddenly I was your topic of interest again. Naturally, I was too happy that you were talking to me to remember that sadness I had felt just a few days before. And at the last two meets, I actually started to get to know you, and all those traits I saw at cross country camp came back, and I was right where I started again. Only this time was different, because two days after the last track meet, on February 10th, you asked me on a date. This thing I had been waiting for for so long, those simple words “Will you hang out with me this weekend?” finally stumbled out of your mouth. I should’ve made you fight for me, I should’ve made you feel what I felt when you ignored me. But what did all that matter at that point? We were going on a date! I couldn’t believe it.
And after four and a half months and what I called “The Best Date Ever,” here I am sitting on my porch writing all these hateful words about you, a boy I now call my boyfriend. A boy I feel like I’m constantly settling for because I can’t help but feel something towards him. Whenever I’m sad, you never make attempts at making me feel better. I drive you everywhere, only to occasionally get a thank you. You never call me, and you’re the worst texter the world will ever see. Your friends are immature assholes, and who’s to say you’re not the same? You think drinking and smoking is cool (remember that one time you blew off my surprise birthday party to get high?). You love music, and I love that you love music, but that’s literally the only thing you take seriously. You’re so awkward and quiet, you’ve hardly said two words to my dad and never smiled at my mom, who’s tried so hard to make you feel home when you’re at our house, and my friends think you hate them because of your shyness. After almost five months, you’ve never once complimented me. I don’t think I’m anything special, but I want someone that feels lucky to be with me, someone that surprises me and acts happy to see me and says what they’re thinking. I don’t need 24/7 attention, but I just want someone to treat me the way I’ve treated YOU.
Now that I’ve ranted on all about this, I still can’t help but think of your goofy smile when I walked outside in my prom dress, the smile that said more than any words; the happiness I felt when you held my hand for the first time; the Modest Mouse CD you gave me for my graduation; the sturdy handshake you gave my dad when I introduced you to him; the green in your eyes that makes me feel at home; how easy it is for me to laugh around you; the way you pulled me in for a hug after our first date; how good you are at drawing; how adorable you little brother and sister are; how excited you were when I came back from the beach; the boy I met at Cross Country Camp.
I’m leaving for college in the fall, and we’ve decided to stay together. I can’t imagine dating anyone other than you, but what if I just liked the idea of you all along? What if I became so obsessed with having you that I never stopped to realize you weren’t the perfection that I thought you were? Do I tell you all of this? Or keep it bottled up to the point where I have breakdowns, like now? I find myself so frustrated with you sometimes, and frustrated with myself that I can’t just stop thinking and be happy that I have you, who I’ve wanted for so long. I think I just need to re-meet you, I need that feeling of being so fascinated by you. Despite this, and despite all I just said, you will always be my favorite person in the world, and I will always find you perfect and adorable.