The name flashing on the caller id made everything seem so surreal. It was over so quickly; the only things left behind from it were chat logs and a stomach full of nostalgic over a love song CD.
Of course she remembers it. She remembers the whisker burn. She remembers talking for hours about nothing and drinking water by the gallon to avoid bad breath. She remembers him looking for her, walking her, waiting for her, doing everything a boyfriend should have done. She remembers kisses that seemed so natural, hugs that seemed to last forever, talks that never came, lies that kept spreading.
He was never there. The moment that it all was clarified, he disappeared. Never there during free periods, never available to talk, never answering internet talk, never there to pick up phone calls. Dates were pushed back, and he simply became frustrating. The one time she finally cornered him, the date was set back two hours as she waited for him to finally stop singing. She had to even threaten to leave, before he finally gathered his stuff up.
But unfortunately, it was a good date.
The movie was fun. The cuddling was not. The dinner was good. The talking about nothing, yet everything was wonderful. The wait at the LIRR station was sweet. The people found on the LIRR train were interesting. It was nice.
She just couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that she actually liked this man. It was such a weird digression from an already set relationship, and frankly, if she had to choose between the two, sadly this one would lose out. She was afraid she was running away after she caught him. She was afraid that he didn’t really like her. She was afraid that someone would find out what she was doing. She was afraid that she was doing exactly the same thing her heart had broken over when done to her.
And so she left him in a heartbreaking hour phone call. She broke his heart. She broke her own. She tried to repair it, but after finally yanking him into a corner and confronting him, she knew, as well as he did that they were over.
Unlike most stories, it ended well. The two of them somehow went back to being just friends again, though not without leaving twinges in his wake. The girl went back to her own heartbreaking sob story, while the boy went back to the girl who always not right for him, but was always there waiting for him.
They left each other, full of regret, and has-beens.
