Published
Ugh. He kept me in a feeling—a sort of grade-school thing. An acid-thick snag sat inside the bottom of me, heavy like semi-hard chunks of circus-orange baby bile. If I wasn’t under his thumb, I was over the toilet, waiting for the arrival of some type of courage. I left my ringer on loud and my schedule open, always ready to bend at his hand.
It should’ve been easy. I had done this before. But habits are habits, and I guess I felt like it was fine if he was the one taking from me. I fed off of it.
The close-but-not-quite flirting. The attention. The angling. The nudging. The budging. The driving lesson. The semi-dates. The secret messages he left in his work just for me. Rolling around playing hangman in the grass. Ignoring everyone else in the room. I’m under a full moon in Silver Lake, I wish YOU were here!!!. That tweet was for u!
Even my alone moments felt like extensions of him. I didn’t even own my breath. I’d sit by myself, replaying conversations like tapes, finding little moments to dissect, trying to figure out if there was something I missed, some sign I’d misread. Every glance, every word. I couldn’t stop picking myself apart, editing, wondering if I should’ve said something different, worn something else or held back just a little more.
I ran the faucet. Put my phone face down and sent it. It was an audio message explaining everything, confessing everything. I remember recording it a couple of times, just to make sure I sounded chill and not crazy. I thought that maybe the right tone could help smooth the awkwardness, but I guess not.
“! ok! I'm sorry if i have been giving you mixed signals, this happens often i think that it must be a little my fault. we can hang out less or chill for a minute or anything you want.
But i swear to g if you put your cancel curse on me i'll be angry like a m f”
I’m not sure if it was a stroke of immaturity or genius that caused me to block him on everything, but I did for a while, even his phone number. I know that is high levels of crazy-stupid-bitch-dramatic, but I needed to. I didn’t want to reconnect or reconcile, I just wanted a clear head. I wanted my thoughts back, and I wanted this moment to be over, so I could move on to the next. Initially, my feelings went inward, and I felt angry towards myself for hanging on for so long. I couldn’t believe I allowed myself to waste my time and be taken for the fool.
It was New Year's Eve. Noon. 6 months had passed, and I had unblocked him. I was on my way to Target on Hollywood Boulevard to grab a few things for a party I was having later that night. Cheese. Crackers. Hard salami. And caviar if they had it. I felt a buzz in my pocket. It was him, and the text was long.
“-I'm really sorry. I didn't intend for any confusion in our relationship. I look back and realize: I was so focused on myself and not thinking at all about the consequences of my actions-”
But before I could even read the message in full, I was on the ground, with my ears ringing and my head against the pavement in front of a moving Dodge Charger. The last thing I remember hearing is a woman screaming, and thinking this is such a stupid way to die.
I don’t know how long I was out, but I was pulled to the pavement, touching my mouth. A woman in a ‘pugs not drugs’ stood over me, she reassured me that I had all my teeth and let me know that I've been hit by a man on a bike. She sat there with me until I could stand and wished me a happy new year.
Eventually, I made my way home and hugged my roommate. I caught the cuts on my face in the mirror. Laughed about it.
I never texted him back.
