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I virtually met you as anyone does nowadays: on a good ole dating app. I wasn’t used to how easy it was to talk to you. All my insecurities left my body when I messaged you. I felt like I could tell you anything — and you felt the same. I still was cautious and didn’t trust everything you said, but you had this love spell on me. You would compliment me and tell me how infatuated you were with me. You saved every picture I sent you of my face because you wanted to look at it longer. You claimed I always look beautiful, even with my messy hair and silly selfies. 

I felt like this could work out, but then you started to push the importance of physical connectedness. It spiked my anxiety, but you stressed you would try your best to be patient with me, but it would be a learning curve. I let you in a little too early and we rushed it. I felt so vulnerable, but you made me feel safe and beautiful. When I got dressed, I couldn’t find my underwear, and I remember you saying, “maybe it fell through the cracks.” That was the first lie you told me. 

Later that night, you sent me a photo of my underwear. You claimed you wanted to get used to my scent. I didn’t tell anyone because I knew it was a little odd. I was just happy you liked me and didn’t leave me. You apologized if I thought it was weird. You gave them back the next day, and you told me you slept with them. I tried to ignore all the warning signs. You said you didn’t just like me for my body.

You made me feel special, opening up to me about your rough childhood. You claimed you would never lie to me. You just wanted to do anything for me anytime. That’s why it hurt more when you admitted to lying to me from the beginning. You told me you didn’t care. That was another lie. In the end, you friend-zoned me because you actually did care about what I would not settle on. You pushed me away after a week of infatuation, so I ran like I always do. 

You were supposed to be the one to restore my faith in men and sweep me off my feet. But you made it so much worse. My trust for someone else has never been at an all-time low. I sometimes wonder if I can ever recover from this and get close to someone again. You won’t break me. I’m stronger than ever and you won’t ever see me cry again. 

UCF Contributor
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