“miss me?”
well, no, in fact, i didn’t miss you in the five minutes it took you to make a sandwich or whatever the fuck you were doing. and i don’t miss you in the larger sense of the time, either.
i am spending my days curled up on couches in a coffee shop doing math while the boy that i think i will one day love writes beautiful stories (i love dating a creative writing major). i spend a lot of time in his bed, and i’m usually dressed. we watch movies and cuddle and talk. god, there is so much to talk about. he never stops being interesting. he plans surprises for me and sends me emails while i’m asleep so they’ll be there when i wake up. he reads the books i love purely because i love them. he makes me cds and then writes me a letter explaining why he chose each track. he loves to show me off. he wants everyone to know that he is with me. i am never rushed to his room or hastened to the subway. he kisses me in public. every time i get a text from him i smile and people around me know i’m talking to him. my friends like him. his friends like me. i sometimes look at him and am overwhelmed by how much i feel for one person.
we waited to have sex. and as the person who created my libido, you should understand what a big deal this is for me. but i wanted to make sure his first time was special. i didn’t want him to regret it like i do. i didn’t want him to regret me like i regret you. he told me he was ready and i told him to wait longer. and when it happened it was awkward and he didn’t really know what to do but i just felt so much that i didn’t even care. when i have sex with him, i never feel guilty. i feel loved and lucky.
he is everything you never were. and that’s okay, because you were never supposed to be any of those things. if you had become any of those things (and sometimes you tried) i would have ended it right then and there because you were not my boyfriend and i did not want you to be. but that’s not the point. the point is:
if i have all this, why the hell would i ever miss you?
