Flowers: the thing we always want our dates to give us, but they never do. I have been going on dates since I turned sixteen years old, and I will tell you I have never received flowers from any of my dates. One day I started to wonder why we all want flowers so much and the fact that they’re only ten freaking dollars at Market Basket, and yet no one can get them for us. Then, it clicked: flowers make us feel important as if we are special enough that our date is really trying to “woo” us, so if we aren’t getting them, it’s a little bit of a stinger.
I had been going on dates with a person since June, and it finally clicked that I really didn’t feel all that important. I definitely did not feel important enough for him to be “bringing me flowers,” so to speak. It felt awful. It even felt a little embarrassing. When he flaked on plans for what felt like the hundredth time, I was crushed. At that moment, it felt like I was fighting to get an ounce of his attention. When we first started going on dates, he made me feel very important and like he genuinely cared, but September came along, and it felt like I was the last thing he was going to fit into his calendar, and if I didn’t fit, then I just didn’t fit. He had admitted to me during the beginning of September that he didn’t feel like he was in the best state of mind and that he wanted to go slow for a little bit, but I think I overestimated how patient I could be. I can barely wait for my turn at the Maine toll booth to fork over my $2, so I don’t know how I thought I could be calm in this kind of situation. Then, my sadness turned to anger. I’m sweet, but when I get mad… take. shelter. I typically just let my sanger (sad anger) wear off, and then I’m back to my cheery little self, but not this time. I decided to call him, and boy did it only add to my anger when he told me he couldn’t come to the phone. It felt like just another indicator right in my face that I was not important. If there were any figurative flowers left at this point, the petals had fallen off, and they were down to the bare bone stems. He certainly did not know the storm he had coming. I was lucky to have the support of my friends, Emma and Meredith when this all happened. If I hadn’t been with them when this storm started brewing, I might not have spoken my mind as candidly as I did.
When he called, I was completely honest about how I was feeling, and it felt so good to finally express what I had been holding in for two months. Apparently, I yelled. I honestly cannot quite remember what I said over the phone. It must have been something empowering but also slightly scary because I vaguely remember Meredith was pumping her fists in the air with praise, and Emma was hiding under her blanket, waiting for the storm to pass. I also remember asking in my moment of anger if he even had any interest in me anymore, and I was quite surprised to hear that he did, and it actually felt like he meant it. All I have to say is Emma and Meredith’s poor neighbors of the lovely Villa Theresa are warriors after my presence that night.
After I cooled down, he suggested we take a break from talking to one another. To avoid a Friends moment, I asked to clarify what we meant by this break. I don’t think he had any idea of how much he had been hurting my feelings until that moment. I didn’t want to admit it at first, but I knew he was right. I was tired, and my brain needed to detox from the last two months. I give him props – he could have selfishly kept me around for his own gratification, but he knew it was best to let me go for now. Then, he delivered a line that I will probably remember until I’m in the old folks’ home. He told me that his mom always tells his sister to “keep her heart safe,” and he said he wanted to do the same for me.
I was a little teary walking home on the red bridge. It also hit me that I had a midterm at 7:30 the next morning on 17th-century sonnets, so that could have been influencing my tears too. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I think a stranger complimented me on my umbrella; it was raining, and I was already teary (a somewhat foreign emotion for me), so I was just in my own little bubble walking home.
Since our parting of ways, I’ve wondered what fresh hell is going to happen in the future. Will he want to be a part of my life again and I be a part of his down the road when he feels like he is in a better place? Will I just meet someone else? Will I just be by myself for a while?
I. have. no. clue.
Regarding how the time following this event has been, it has been different…not exceedingly great to the point that I am “thriving,” like everyone wants to be able to say after something like this happens. Still, I can’t say I’m doing poorly either. Life is still proceeding. Since he and I had been going on dates since June, I am almost intrigued (I can’t say over-the-moon excited, just intrigued) to see what life will be like without him in it and how it will feel after a little while. This is the first time I’ve ever “parted ways” with someone, and we have both mutually liked one another when we hung up the phone. I feel like this will make it different than anything I’ve experienced before. Whether it will make it better or worse, I don’t know. As for how I feel about him, I am not mad at him. He really did try. I just don’t think he has a lot to give at this time, and I’m what he needs to be worried about right now. He has bigger fish to fry, and I think the oil still needs to get warmed up a bit first.
When I walked back into my room that night, drenched from the rain, I saw my flowers sitting on my desk that my dad had brought me when he visited two days before. It made me realize that I do have my people who “bring me flowers.” I have my close friends who always have their doors open to me when I have a misadventure. My mom will always be there to spill tea and call anyone a “slimeball” who remotely does me dirty. My dad will always be there to go eat some steak at a pub down the street when my mom isn’t home, and we don’t want to cook. I don’t quite know what is going to happen regarding this whole misadventure, and I am starting to realize that it is okay. The girl with the color-coded planner is telling you that she does not have a plan and that it is what it is. I will tell you, though, I will most certainly be keeping my heart safe.