Say Something.

It was a modern day rejection to an old fashioned declaration.

Without having said a word, and by bypassing the existence of my confession entirely, I was dismissed with pure and raw rejection.

Somehow, without saying anything, he managed to say everything.

There’s this guy I (used to) like, the very subject of many of my past posts, the subject to which I sent a book and perched between its pages, also a letter.

A letter that had originally been written through tear stained eyes. From its cried upon text, it went through multiple edits, one episode of being erased entirely, another drawn up from scratch, and then finally, I sent it off into the mail with good intention. This letter was personal, as it declared my feelings for him and after putting these little bits of paper holding precious sentiments out into the world, I sat and anxiously waited for word back.

I received it. And when I say I received “word”, it was literally just a few of them.

Got your package, thank youuuuu.”

That’s it.

That. Was it.

Staring at this simple text, a text I had been willing to be languid and full of verbose sentences, my heart sank to the bottom of my chest and tears escaped themselves from my eyes.

It’s not like I was expecting a reciprocation of feelings, but to simply not acknowledge the letter just plain and simple broke my heart. 

The entire purpose of said document was for me to find clairity and/or closure on our relationship. We’re definitely not dating, but we’re also not “just friends.” So I’ve been confused about where we stand with each other and this was my final attempt to let him know how I felt, and to prompt response, whether he felt the same way I did or not.

I opened this door and he chose not to walk through. But he didn’t turn away, he lingered outside. Maybe poked his head in, contemplated whether or not to take the big step inside, then chose to settle on the swing outside on the porch.

I have been through this before, these countless cases in which I get rejected without communication. In my dating experience, very few men have had the cajones to tell me to my face they’re no longer interested in me (or they find I’m not an easy lay). So their method of “breaking up” with me ends up with me being ghosted. Instead of having the decency to talk to me face to face, they end up dipping, bouncing, and abandoning me alllllllll without saying a word.

So I’m left: crushed, heartbroken, confused, crying for days and naturally coming up with reasons as to why, which inevitably have to do with me.

What’s wrong with me? What did I do wrong to make him leave?

Despite friends, family, and pretty much the entire female race telling me that it’s the guys’ loss and boys are dumb, I can’t escape the idea I keep coming back to: that something is wrong with me.

Assuming I knew this guy well enough to bravely share my feelings with him, and sick of this pressure from society that deters me from acting on my emotions for fear of scaring him off and being the “crazy emotional woman”, I followed my gut and sent this letter in the hopes of either 1) hearing that my feelings were reciprocated (which was the unlikely case) or 2) getting closure on this long distance relationship. A relationship I had had doubts about from its origin due to poor communication on his part, which constantly left me wondering if the guy would ever text back. Emotionally taxing? I think yes.

And when I did eventually get word back, I got an answer, but it wasn’t verbal and it didn’t give me proper closure.

I don’t know what it is about this day and age that warrants this dismissive behavior between people, but I’m finding that the lack of response to formal matters to be extremely detrimental to one’s self-esteem. Not only that, but it’s disrespectful, hurtful, and there’s no accountability. There’s this mentality in some mens’ thoughts where avoidance is easier to deal with than a potentially uncomfortable encounter with the woman  and it ends up being extremely painful on someone sensitive like me who’s mostly known being the recipient of a ghosting.

If you don’t like me, tell me. If you do like me, tell me! If you want to ignore what I wrote and continue Snapchatting me like my letter doesn’t exist; do so, but I won’t be responding anymore. I’m tired of being strung along.

That letter came from a very personal part of my heart and ignoring that is ignoring me and my feelings, and I want nothing to do with him if that’s the case.

I’m emotionally exhausted from having to pick myself up after incidents like these in which men continue to take advantage of my kindness and just quietly disappear. I don’t know if they think that by avoiding the subject entirely, it’ll be easier on my feelings, but it’s not.

In the end, I didn’t get what I wanted out of sending the letter. But it did bring me some form of clairity on our relationship and I’m deciding to move forward on my path without him. I can’t make him like me, but I can choose to let go of him.

Because right now, I don’t know what he’s feeling for me, but I am sure as hell not sticking around in case he does decide he has feelings.  

I just ask that in the future, they say something, anything?

 

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Tendency.

I have this tendency, which is defined as having an inclination toward a particular characteristic or type of behavior. 

I meet a boy, like a boy, and because I’m a kind person who now has gaga eyes and a fluttering heart, end up stumbling across something that reminds me of the boy, and I buy it for him.

It began years ago when I went on a movie date with this kid who’s now married and has kids. He complimented my glass water bottle I got from Homer, as we sat snuggled up in the theatre, and the next time I visited the seaside town, I bought one to give to him.  

The guy ghosted on me (the first of many) before I had a chance to give it to him and I was left with this water bottle. Which I’m still in possession of, a reminder of my generous (and maybe foolish?) heart. 

I’ve done this many times. There was the boy and the ice tray (still have the ice tray because guess what, he ghosted on me too), the guy and the podcasts (which I downloaded because I wanted to share his interests and have something in common to talk about), and I am now in the throes of making that same gesture again.   

There’s this guy, but instead of a water bottle, ice tray, or podcasts, it’s a book. What I tell myself is that I’m just being thoughtful but deep down, I feel like there’s a grander gesture. There always is. 

I want to impress him. I want him to like me! I want him to respond and pour his heart out to me, and turn around and tell his friends and family that this special girl sent him a book all the way from Alaska.

But I know that I’m projecting what I want onto this guy who will most likely not respond how I imagine him to. I set these high expectations, which inevitably let me down, and overthink myself into oblivion, picturing a future that never plays out like it does in my imaginative mind.

If my past gestures have taught me anything, it’s that buying something that reminds me of them is a move I make to prove myself as someone who cares.

And I think maybe that’s the problem: I care too much. I know it’s not a bad thing, it’s just bad when the people I care for don’t care for me back, abandoning me before I have a chance to gift them with these thoughtful sentiments.

So why do I continue to put myself through the ringer, the emotional descent that leaves me depressed and in possession of yet another object that will forever remind me of them and my silly and premature purchase? 

I guess I’m hoping that one of these days, my gift will eventually reach them and mean something. I can’t stop being kind because I don’t get the reaction I want, I have to be kind out of the goodness of my heart, even when it goes unnoticed, unappreciated, or simply never given a chance.  

I send thoughtful gifts to my friends, so it’s not an abnormal expression to send it to a guy, it just has a more profound meaning because in the past, the guys have dipped on me before I’ve even had the chance to give it to them.

Someday, maybe not tomorrow and certainly not today, I will meet someone whom I won’t feel guilty or embarrassed about giving a thoughtful gift to, because it’ll mean the right thing for him and for me.

In the meantime, I’ll continue to send good out into the world, which in this next case, means a basketball book in the mail.  

If it gets lost in transition, so be it. If he gets it and thinks I’m some crazy girl who’s gotten herself attached, I accept that. I can’t predict how he’ll react, and I certainly can’t control how he ends up responding. But the thing I can control is my intention.

And those are always filled with good, whether he receives it in the mail or not.

 

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