We’ve talked for 111 days now.
I met you at a party. You fixed me a pina colada and let me borrow your tie. I didn’t think anything of it. A week later, we were bonding over beer with three of our friends. We were the only two there. I knew you had a girlfriend, but I didn’t plan on falling for you that night. We exchanged Snapchats. You became my best friend the next day and we’ve talked every day since.
My friends get annoyed when I talk abut you too much. I’ve talked about you too much since the day you helped me find a ghost in the frat house’s attic. Before you got there that night, I called my friend by your name because you were on my mind. That was a week after dinner and I hadn’t heard anything about your girlfriend in a while. I assumed you were broken up. I made the fraternity cookies a few days later, and I made one special for you. That night, I realized you weren’t broken up. I ate the cookie and cried when I got home.
You kept messaging me.
Before I knew it, we were talking about soul mates and goals and everything in between. You became my future. Your girlfriend was out of the picture. I forgot she existed—that she was another girl out there that could be as hopelessly in love and devoted to you as I was. Surely you thought I was prettier—that you no longer saw that sparkle in her brown eyes either. You probably liked my personality better, too, because it seemed you never talked to her, and you always talked to me. Surely, the two years you had spent together meant nothing once I came along, a new freshman, enamored by your power.
But then I saw you two walking to class together.
It hit me in that moment. I wasn’t the only one. I was nothing but second to her. For that, I hated her, for loving you like I loved you, I hated her. For grabbing your eye before me at every party, I hated her. I hated her, because in that moment, I realized she had something I never would—your commitment.
You told me shortly after that you two had broken up. I apologized, but inside, I was elated. Maybe I would finally get the commitment I so desperately wanted. The next night, we got pizza at the place we went to 111 days ago. This time, you didn’t get a beer, because you were driving me home. You paid for my food and then we stayed up until two in the morning talking about our passion. Everything felt right. You kissed me for the first time that night. It’s all I thought about for a week.
Before I knew it, I was staying the night with you. I had never done this before, and the idea of falling asleep in your arms made me swoon. We watched a movie and then we kissed, but this time, it wasn’t a soft, sweet kiss. You wanted sex, and despite the fact I was a virgin, I wanted it, too, because I would be experiencing it with you. The time I had fallen asleep in your room at a party, drunk and vulnerable, suddenly came back to my mind. You had had enough respect for me then to wait until I was ready. Now was my moment. That night, we had sex. We did again that week, and again a week later. I was one-hundred-percent head over heels for you, but you still didn’t want commitment. I wasn’t worth that.
You started talking to me less after that. We no longer texted, only sent Snapchats. I started to miss you. It felt like a break-up, but we never were. People asked if we were still a thing, and I honestly didn’t know.
Then someone told me you and your ex were talking again. I denied it. I pretended it didn’t exist. I had given you my most sacred of gifts. No way would you betray me like that. I confronted you and you denied it, too. I believed you because I wanted to. For the past months, you had become my everything. When you were away, I would pretend I was wrapped in your arms. I thought about you in the morning and at night, and your name showed up to me everywhere.
That’s why I went to sleep with you last week—because I believed you. I looked forward to falling asleep in your arms and pretending for a night that you and me were a “we,” and for a while, it worked. Then, you went to the bathroom. When I reached for a tissue, I grabbed her bra.
She may not be your girlfriend anymore, but I am tired of being your second best. I still haven’t told you I saw it. Hell, I probably never will, and I’ll probably crawl back to you next time you ask for a good lay. Funny thing is, all this has done has made me want you more, but the sad part is that I know somewhere out there, there’s a guy that’ll always put me first.