I had been mustering up the courage to message you for weeks. We had made tentative plans to get dinner and catch up a while back, and my anxiety prevented me from reaching out to you. With a little alcohol to calm me down, I finally texted you to ask when you’d be free, hoping to make some lunch or dinner plans in the upcoming week. To my shock you answered immediately, “Now?” followed by: “Be mine.”
How could I resist? I had my eye on you for years and finally this was my opportunity. I had been dreaming of this moment since I was 14 years old. Before I had even defined my sexuality or discovered who I was, I had developed feelings for you from hundreds of miles away as we periodically spoke. You left me when I was 15, came back when I was 16 and then left me again. I swore I wouldn’t let it happen for a third time.
Through fate we ended up going to college a mile away from each other. I tried not to think too much of it. I mean really, what was I expecting when I agreed to come see you in the middle of the night after you had been partying? Did I really expect that your persistence was out of love rather than lust? Unfortunately, I did. Because truly all I have wanted since I was 14 years old was to call you mine and feel the protection of your embrace. It didn’t occur to me that you had a habit of building me up just to shut me down. So I went to see you, my hopes higher than they had ever been. This was the moment I had been longing for since freshman year of high school.
The Uber dropped me outside of a party you were at, and I anxiously paced back and forth in front of the door, waiting for you to retrieve me. Finally, the door swung open, and I had to hold back tears seeing you standing there. We engaged in an embrace, and I think it may have been one of the happiest moments of my life. After a short walk to buy you some pizza, we ended up in your dorm room. The sight of the clutter, trash, and empty bottles everywhere normally would have freaked me out, but I felt weirdly at home with you. We sat on the couch for a little and chatted as you periodically got closer and closer to me. You poured us a few shots and laid your head on my shoulder.
Naturally, things went downhill from here. I didn’t want to hook up with you, but I felt some sort of weird obligation to please you. All I wanted was to chat and catch up after all these years. I just kept thinking:“I didn’t want this. This wasn’t what I came here for.” I felt empty after, but you asked me to stay the night and so I continued not to give up hope that this was more than just a hookup. I crawled into bed with you and we cuddled all night. Periodically, I would wake up to you kissing my face and squeezing me a little bit tighter. I watched you sleep in disbelief that this was really happening to me.
You turned your charm on just like you always had. “You’re beautiful,” you whispered to me, “I really, really mean it.” Of course I wanted to believe you. “I want to take you on dates,” you promised me. Now, I know that isn’t what you wanted at all. The next day I shot you a text telling you I had a great time and you agreed. “Don’t be a stranger,” I told you, remembering all the times you abandoned me. It’s been weeks since our encounter, and I realize that your flattery was a manipulative tactic. You left me for the fourth time.