Listen, Lucy: The things I'd say if you ever text me back...

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Listen, Lucy: The things I'd say if you ever text me back...

“When people show you who they are, believe them the first time.”
–Maya Angelou

I’ve exhausted my friends with our situation, I know they’ll listen but really there is only one person left to talk it out with: you. But you won’t text me back (god, what a stupid millennial problem). Technology makes it so easy for you to hide behind a screen, to forget I’m a human with feelings, feelings that you’ve hurt. So, I’ll just write it all out.

When I met you in January, I remember thinking, after we left each other the next afternoon, how happy I was that your friend who I was originally hitting on, wasn’t interested. Stroke of luck or the universes plan? Who knows. But either way, I was happy with the turn of events because I liked you. I knew it the morning you woke up in my bed wasting the next 5 hours talking. 

When you came over, I never felt like the late-night call, although I knew that’s what I was deep down. You told me the second morning we spent together that I was your first since you and your girl had split. With that I read between the lines, understanding what that I meant I was to you. Despite these facts, I told my friends and sister about you, I tried to not think about you, or how I wanted to hear from you, or imagine us rolling around in the sheets with you. 

When we talked, we argued, but in a challenging and intellectual way. I couldn’t figure out if you were playing devil’s advocate or that I was truly into a guy with such different views from mine. I enjoyed the arguing though, it was playful and kept it interesting. You told me I was intelligent and chuckled with delight at my use of words like “riveting”. You’d never been with someone with such “a large vocabulary”

I spent days and nights daydreaming of you seeing me in the lingerie I wanted to buy for you, having sex in every space of my apartment, taking showers and then crawling back in bed to waste the rest of our Sunday. 

But, reality hit each week, when I wouldn’t hear from you, and I was reminded of what I was. 

When you came over during the week, we ordered pizza and watched movies. You told me you really like hanging out with me. I responded the same, naively thinking that these words carried weight instead of being the empty nothings that you knew I wanted to hear. You stayed the night and in the morning when you left for work you said “alright babe, let me know how your day goes”. I smiled hard and anxiously debated the appropriate time to text you that day. 

The conversation later that day was short and reality hit; I was reminded of what I was. 

I was the girl that made you feel good, an ego boost, something to take your mind off a recent breakup. I was the girl who provided a small escape in her small apartment. A comfortable bed, guaranteed affection and a pizza for when you were hungry. 

I gladly played into your hand; after all, I wasn’t used to the attention. Up to this point, I’m 24 woman who has never had a boyfriend. I was the one (or 2) night stand girl for many guys. They saw the big boobs, my sarcasm and strong affinity for whiskey and assumed I was a “carefree girl”. That’s on me, due to recurring situations, I realized that somewhere along the way I agreed to be that girl and accept that role.

But when you stayed each morning, when we had morning sex, when I rubbed your back while talking about our families, our travels, your friends, my friends, anything- I started to believe this might be different. 

Then, since the first time we met, we were out together. You met my best friend while you were drunk. Very drunk. You whispered those cliche “sweet nothings” into my ear, said you wanted to hear from me more, and made me feel desired…so I was happy. As the night progressed, though, I noticed it. You were attached to your phone, picked up your friends calls, and looked around the other girls. 

So, reality hit me and I remembered what I was. 

You briefly proved me wrong, coming back to my apartment despite my visitors. You finally had a real conversation with my friends, and I was the always pleasing host; making food and drinks. It was until 3 am when you answered her call, in my bed, while I was naked next to you. 

You left. For the first time, you came, realized you may not get laid, and bounced. I texted you that night soon after your departure that I felt disrespected, especially with the words whispered earlier that night. No response. The next night I just simply said “I’d like to hear from you”. No response

Reality hit me, for the final time, and I remembered what I was. 

I have accepted that I won’t hear from you. That you’ll ignore me instead of explaining, telling me it was a misunderstanding, or that, yes in fact, you were seeing other girls. You’ll leave me guessing of what happened that night, and I’ll become “that crazy girl” you used to see on the weekends. 

To be honest, I’m not mad or angry. Although I know I was just a placeholder, a warm bed, and easy lay, you reminded me that I can have a relationship, I can flirt, I can be sexy, even if it was just for a time being. Our conversations taught me to not be afraid of my opinions and to always consider others viewpoints. You have a wild heart and free spirit and in my little apartment was a precious escape where we could fantasize about our dreams becoming reality. I was unaware that our relationship was one of those fantasies. You also taught me that at this point in my life, I know what I deserve. Had you done what you did when I was 20, I would have assumed that I wasn’t pretty enough, interesting enough, smart enough or any of the other things girls are lead to believe when they are young. But now, I know. I may not look like Kim Kardashian and have the wit of Jennifer Lawrence, but I am worthy simply because I am me. Worthy of respect, of love, and of a freaking text back. So, thank you.