personal essay: S.D.H.

He Was My Only Connection, I Was One of Many

It started out meaningless. I mean, isn’t that how it always happens?

When I first met him, he was a charming smile with smooth words as he handed me my sweater that I was about to abandon at a party. He made me feel pretty which I hadn’t experienced before. That’s for sure. He got my name, naturally followed with me learning his. As I left, the way his eyes were connecting with me, I had recognized it before. They were the second glances other girls got.

It was a week later when my effervescent best friend at the time had convinced me to invite him to the small get together we were having. ‘We would just talk’, I had promised myself as he had messaged me he was on his way. That night, he wanted me and the feeling of being wanted overcame all the predetermined boundaries I had set for myself. Without warning, he had became a constant. We weren’t one's for restaurant dates and meeting the family. It was loud crowded parties and late night talks fueled by our vices. However, one thing it never was, was commitment.

He always told me enough to tie me over and cover himself. “I am not seeing anyone else, isn’t that enough?”, “Let’s not rush into things.”, or my personal favorite “I am not into labels. Please, please tell me you are not one of those girls that has to post everything online.”. The movies and books I had idolized in my youth never had the love interest disregarding the main character for weeks. Hitting them up only after dusk. Making the present already feel like a memory when they were together. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Yet he still felt like the solution.

I think because he was not what I was looking for, it hurt more. He was this stranger at a party who gave me the second looks. . .not the other way around. Now here I was two years later trying to keep it together. It was a brilliant summer day, a day meant to be spent basking in the sun, not at a basement party where for all you know it could be 11pm not 11am. Someplace I still agreed to go with him after looking through his phone. The pictures. One sip. The texts. A gulp. The other girls. My drink is gone. Despite this, I gave myself to him that night and the ones to follow.

With liquid courage after three years of this, I remember asking him, “What are we even doing anymore?”. He shrugged it off. I pressed the issue telling him I could handle whatever he needed to tell me as long as it was the truth. That’s the thing when your relationship is a lie for so long you almost want to be hurt. He alluded to his friends who had been high school sweethearts set to get married in the fall. He spoke leaps and bounds about the connection they had and how it had consumed him. 'What if he hasn't met his person yet?' 'When would he have what they had?'. These questions danced in his mind even when he hadn't wanted them to. Ultimately, he concluded that being with me meant he was always going to try to look for someone better. We never agreed it was the end of us but after that I found myself reaching out less to him, him doing the same to me. Days passed, then weeks, a text here, a response there, months went by without us seeing each other, followed by the years.

He had moved on, so did I. I would be lying if I didn’t believe people take away parts of you that you cannot get back. From then, I found myself a little bit more closed off, less myself, less personal. Going from seeing the best in someone like him to not being able to recognize the greatness in the best of people. Always catching myself before I said something and replaying it over in my head before deciding I should just be quiet. The constant reminder of the time I was vulnerable and me doing whatever I needed to, to dull the thought of how things ended.

“Shit.” I had almost said aloud I saw him at our local grocery store with his girlfriend. Someone he officially claimed was his. I noted I was wearing sweatpants and a shirt two sizes too big. Why did I care what I looked like? Why did I still want him to notice me and say 'Hi'? Why did I suddenly feel like I had to get out of there? Why did I forget my sweater that night?

There was no connection anymore. Why did I care?

about the writer: S.D.H.

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