I like the sound of my name most when it’s in the tone of your voice. Even when you’re only saying it to punctuate a sentence during an argument. Or, perhaps, especially then.
I opened this tumblr a while ago with every intention of using it. I never did. But as of today, I put myself on an 8 month plan. A plan to get right, get happy, find a job that’s fulfilling and doesn’t leave me at the end of a 40+ hour week feeling like I didn’t fucking do anything; meet a cool guy that isn’t pretentious, isn’t friends with my brother, isn’t trying too hard to be some idea of a person.
I was walking home from a first date just now, a first okcupid date with a guy I’d been texting with all weekend (I am convinced this is the kiss of death, texting for extended time before a first date), the date was terrible. I had no interest in him. I thought it was obvious. I didn’t get a drink after my second beer. He did. My leg was shaking with anticipation to get up and leave. He was drinking as slow as possible.
I bussed my beer cans to the bar, walked back over. “I think I’m gonna head out,” I told him.
"Well, this is awkward," he responded.
"Oh… Did you want me to sit and wait for you?"
"No, it’s cool, it’s cool."
I don’t know how to end dates that don’t interest me without being callous. I don’t know how to respond to these guys that don’t meet the mark, don’t pique my interest. And it pisses me off.
And even when I hugged him goodbye, told him it was nice to meet you, the way he touched my side and seemed disappointed that we didn’t kiss, I couldn’t help but think, are you serious, dude?
I have been on shit dates since I met you. A year and a half of shit dates since the day I met you. I’m not writing this so you can lord it over me, to give you the power of having less feelings. I’m writing this because you never saw me. I am a strong woman. I am a beautiful, strong woman. I am an interesting, beautiful, strong woman and you always managed to look right past me. I’m writing this because you never realized all of the things that I am. And you didn’t deserve all the feelings I had for you. Didn’t deserve the way my pupils dilated upon seeing you, how my stomach flipped when you told me how much you loved Bruce Springsteen, how my heart raced when you asked if you could kiss me. I have never in my life felt about anyone else the way I felt about you on that first date, sitting at that bar, awkwardly talking about your clammy hands.
I’m writing this because I almost called you to tell you all of it, and you definitely don’t deserve that.