A lot of relationships are physical, exciting, especially when they're brand new, they're full of giggles and butterfly-filled stomachs. Yet, here I was, in my first real relationship, and you gave me nothing.
At first, I tried to understand. You were pretty awkward socially; it comes with being intelligent. I understood because I always thought I was awkward too. You also tried to explain when I asked what we were and what was going on, that you respected me.
And this is where your hesitancy to touch me and be mushy made some sense to me.
It had been a year of dates
I had no idea you were even moving, and after a few days of nothing, I get a text you were somewhere new, somewhere I would never visit. I brushed this off, we had been dating a couple of months, and your grandfather had fallen ill and passed away.
Maybe I should have been concerned that you passed this news via text. Okay, grief hits people in strange ways, I convinced myself. I tried to be kind, understanding, and just a shoulder to cry on, even though I wasn't sure you ever cried.
There was a lack of emotion, and I was nothing but emotion
I was raw, scared, unsure of myself as I became depressed and suicidal. I never told you that. Shouldn't that have been strange? That I kept something so severe, so upsetting from someone I had now been dating six months?
I did try to open up a few times
I told you I was struggling and upset, and you just kind of brushed it off. It was, again text after all, so I really couldn't hold that against you. I even mentioned my worry about our relationship. But you just told me not to think about it.
And in my confusion and depression, the advice to not make relationship decisions during this time, I went along with it and said I felt okay about it in the end, perhaps leading you on.
Still, was it my fault you never told me you loved me?
How was I to know how you felt when the only romance I received was a hug I initiated on New Year's Eve. That was the only time we physically touched aside from a family prayer at your family's house.
Perhaps you felt these texts were enough. The "by the way I moved," "by the way my grandfather died," and "by the way I forgot to tell you you look beautiful."
For me, they were bizarre, uncomfortable, and I was never sure if you truly felt things because there was always this wall. You could not even say to my face that you thought I looked nice when we went to a wedding together.
Finally, you tried to propose with a necklace, and I knew I deserved better. I deserved someone who would fight for me, who would care when I was upset or hurting. I deserved to know you loved me before being sprung upon by a bizarre necklace. And I deserve to be helped, cherished, and admired.
I never told you this, but I guess it was always through texts that we communicated anyway.