”Listen” is how the text message began, and even before I opened the message to read it in full, dread sank deeply in my stomach. I knew it wouldn't be good.
He wasn't feeling enough chemistry for the long-term sort of relationship I'm seeking. The brunch date earlier in the day hadn't ended with as nice of a kiss as the date previous, but a number of factors easily explained that, so I didn't think anything of it. I was shocked, didn't really see it coming, and had trouble believing it.
Since before the date previous to today's, I'd been sharing with friends my excited anticipation for the dates we had planned. I was growing intensely fond of him and sometimes referred to him as a budding sweetie. The next date we had planned was to be a dinner with a group of my friends.
Over the weekend when I wasn't feeling well, and was seeking comfort, I reached out to him; it felt great to have someone that I'd be willing to reach for. I knew this thing would never measure up to the big loves of my life, but my affection and attraction to him was growing, and it felt warm, inviting, hopeful and generally fantastic. I was growing optimistic that I might have a wonderfully significant person in my life again.
Once I read the message my nerves were cranked up to 11. I felt as if I was on a caffeine overload...something like a fight or flight response in which neither fight nor flight can actually help. I searched my mind, heart and body for a remedy as I fearfully sat with the sensation.
I asked clarifying questions and requested feedback, with my fears and insecurities snarling and wrestling around my head like jackals. I paced, and wanted to go take a long walk, but allowed the rain to thwart my urge to avoid it all. I felt the sting of self-pity as I tried my damnedest to tune out the negative nagging little voice telling me I was foolish to think I am worthy.
I tensed each time my phone chimed with an incoming message, simultaneously soothed and stabbed that it wasn't another from this now-obvious crush. I hated myself for allowing this affection to grow, and angrily questioned myself about why I even bother.
I strive to live a life in which I continually embrace vulnerability, and I feel brave and proud when I do, yet, I end up here, again and again in subtly different forms each time. My self-pity and negativity tell me it's always going to be this way, my curse to suffer and burden to bear. My scared inner child screams at me to stop letting them in.
My tears come, because -- like Reid says -- it's a dangerous neighborhood up here. And I live through this tiny heartbreak until I can let it go.
(Originally published 3/14/16, 12:34 AM EDT; edited for minor grammatical omission)
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