Kinda don’t expect you to read this and I’m never going to ask you if you did, so this is pretty much for me. Just the stuff I wanted to say to you that’s been ping-ponging around inside my dumb head. This lets me let it go, free up my mind a bit. Again, I’m censoring names in here because this is a public anonymous pastebin.

So, why do I even care to write this to someone I went on one date with over a year and a half ago? Who I barely ever get to talk to, and when I do barely say a thing?

Well, I’m in love with you.

And I know exactly how colossally stupid that is. But that’s how the heart operates. It doesn’t give a fuck. And I'm not saying that, if we had actually dated, it would have lasted. Been in love with quite a few girls, and I loved them at one time and for the most part that love is now gone. So don't imagine me dying from a broken heart or anything sappy like that. I did that the first time I fell in love. More like it detonated rather than broke.

And so you can consider this a love letter. But not a sappy one, just full of what someone (an idiot) who loves you wants to say to you but hasn’t been able to.

If you’re not completely freaked out now, please continue reading. If you are freaked out… Look, I’m not some fucking teenager that falls for a girl because she looked at me and then hates her when she doesn’t respond in kind. Fucking hell, I’ve been there before, sure, but not since my teens. When a person cares for someone, you have to care about _them_, not the “ideal” version of them that exists inside your head. And if *they* don’t feel that way for you, you have to respect it, otherwise you never really cared for them. So here I am, caring for someone who doesn’t feel the same way about me, and it’s okay. It sucks on my end, but it’s just reality.

You might wonder how I got this way. No, I don’t normally fall in love with people I meet in bars and who I barely know. It was a few things.

Started when I first met you. My memory is for shit, so I have an onenote notebook in my phone called “memory”. It’s got some random shit in it but it’s mostly names and something along with the name to help me remember. I’ll see somebody I know and not remember their name and I’ll look through the list and it’ll snap right back in. And it’s an embarrassing list. Like, there’s an entry for the joint's owners that is “J** and FUCKING M****** YOU IDIOT” because for some reason M’s name occupies one of the shittier positions in my memory.

ANYHOW this relates because you’re in there.  The line says “C****** cute”. I’d be able to pull your name out of a chaotic list of almost a hundred names because you’re in there as “cute”. I’ve heard some folks consider referring to someone as cute is an insult. Those people are fucking idiots. Girls who look cute, girls with a cute personality, and those that are both are a straight up 10 for me.

And as I got to know you better I found out you had a sharp wit and a great sense of humor. All bonuses. But I didn’t really think too much about you as someone I was interested in back then. There were other things going on with me, and my head was just not in that place, couldn’t tell you why, now.

So what happened?

Well, it didn’t really occur to me how attracted I was to you until you tried to make out with me.

I know you don’t remember much of that night. But we were sitting at the end of the bar by the back door. You were obviously pretty well lit and I had convinced you to stay and drink some water. We had a great talk, actually. I’m a bad conversationalist, unless I’ve got something to talk about. Finding that, for me, is hard. Hard to find things to talk about that won’t bore the fuck out of everybody, that is. But you were on fire. I don’t remember a lot about what we were talking about, but you did have an interesting anecdote about one of your former roommates I think I’ve seen at the pub. I haven’t told anybody that story, and I’m not even sure it’s true.

Anyhow you grabbed one of my smokes and got up and said to me, “Come on, let’s go smoke a clove in the bathroom” and you grabbed my shirt and pulled me into the back bathroom. I was like, what the fuck is going on here? You went in and turned around and I was standing in the doorway, and it hit me. And my dick hit the front of my pants at about mach 3. I was literally bent forwards like a grade school kid at the chalkboard with a boner, tap dancing around because you were definitely trashed, I had no doubt about that (and you confirmed it the next time I saw you). You grew quickly annoyed and pushed past me and went to go sit back down and that was that. The whole thing may have lasted a minute. You left not too much longer afterwards. I stayed at the bar, a little amazed at how I reacted. It was so sudden and my natural reaction was instant. And I was pretty well lit myself, so it was even more surprising to me.

So now I know I’m real attracted to you, and start thinking about whether or not I should act on it. Ask you out. And then the next time I see you I put my foot deep in my mouth, saying stupid shit stupidly and you end up all weirded out that you did some stuff while essentially blackout. So that’s a big cold bucket of water over that. But I kept thinking about you and how I should ask you and what to say and all the fucking annoying up in my head bullshit habits I slip into when simply speaking directly would have probably been the best thing I could have done.

(I’m rough on the timeline, I don’t remember exactly where this fits, so I’m just going to pretend it happened during this time period)

One of the other things that made me realize how much I was attracted to you was… this is embarrassing, and kinda sick. I can’t believe I had this reaction, but it’s true, and I’m being honest and forthcoming, so… It was when I helped you move. We swung by C******* and M***’s house to pick up some things… and while I was loading the truck I looked up and saw you holding W****. You were bouncing him lightly on your hip, and the look in your eyes made my heart skip a beat. You were looking at him with such a loving look, and I was stunned. Stunned at how beautiful you looked, holding him. Gross. I’m sorry, but that was my honest reaction. Please don’t think too lowly of me. I can’t help it.

So, as I was saying, I continued procrastinating, with this reason or that reason why I couldn’t ask you, and time kept on rolling along.

And then it was valentines day.

It honestly snuck up on me. I don’t know how I had let it get so close without coming up with some kind of plan. Fucking hell, what an idiot. I figured I’d stop being a colossal pussy and ask you out the next time I saw you.

And that very night you walked in with some guy I’d never seen before.

I can’t tell you how devastated I was. How full of hatred for myself. I had spent all this time hemming and hawing and here we are, like right before and some guy had asked you. He’d done what I should have done before. I died inside. I wanted to leave and drink myself to death, cry like a bitch, crawl up inside my own asshole and disappear. But I didn’t. I stayed and was cordial, and when you went outside for a smoke I struck up a conversation … and learned he was just a friend! He hadn’t asked you out for valentines! I was elated! But also panicked. I knew I’d have to act that night, I couldn’t risk going through this torture again. Screw trying to do it “right”, I just needed to do it. And soon you were leaving and I asked you out. You said you weren’t sure what was going on that day, and you’d see. I made that comment about being the second choice and you, so naturally and _romantically_ (I’m having a hard time describing how I experienced this) you turned around and smacked me in the chest as if to say, “of course not, stop being silly.” I was so elated. So happy. So incredibly happy. Happier than I’d been in years.

I don’t know, maybe if I hadn’t panicked, maybe if I had slowly tried to get to know you better over a few months before asking you out would have made things different. I doubt it, though. I probably would have just procrastinated like before.

Writing about what happened after that from my perspective is hard. It was like you were a flower that had blossomed for me that night, but as I admired and attended, you folded your petals back up and withdrew into your bud. You were so quiet, so timid, so apprehensive. I didn’t understand what was going on. I would ask you and you would always say everything was okay. I accepted that this might be just how you were in this situation. I’d have never thought of you as being so passive and withdrawn prior. I tried to take it in stride, with hopes that things would improve or change, or that I’d come to understand better. But then I let my head get in the way.

What if you realized you made a mistake, but were afraid of upsetting me? Or what if you want to have your own W**** you can bounce on your hip, but have heard someone (like S******) say I didn’t want a family? And you were afraid I’d do something that would drive you from the pub if you told me? Make you feel unwelcome there? Or do something that brought more unwanted attention on you? Where you would face the same kind of hazing you found funny (it was funny, btw) when J** was leveling it at me about my relationship status with B****? And I didn’t know how to ask you. I could only see myself annoying the shit out of you asking if you were okay or what was wrong or how you feel over and over, without getting any answer other than “yes” or “okay” until I pissed you off enough that you were just done with me. I didn’t want to end up doing this (I’ve done it in the past, for damned sure), and I couldn’t think of  a way out. So I told you I didn’t know what to do other than to let things be. And that, even though I was doing this, I had no hard feelings. And that nothing had changed.

It still hasn’t.

I’d love to know how you feel, but I don’t expect I’ll ever, really. Sometimes my mind wanders and the “ideal” of you that exists in my head and I start talking about things and I’ll have to stop myself, usually by saying out loud “that will never happen.” That kind of thing is a bad habit of mine.  Talking to people in my head rather than IRL. This is kinda the same, I guess maybe a bit better, as I’m giving you at least the opportunity to read it.

As I’ve said, I’ve been here before, and I’ll be here again, God willing. I’m not collecting your used bottles and cigarette butts and crafting an altar to you in my hooker hole. I’ve been on a few dates since, but nothing's come of them. I’ve had less desire to deal with relationship crap than before. Not sure why. Maybe I feel like I’m already compromising, and anything more is just the last straw. I’ve both moved on and haven’t moved on. If I’m truly lucky, this message might change things, give me the lease to really move on. I'm not even going to mention other possibilities.

I’m not typically lucky

So that’s it. Thanks for reading. Ask me for a shot, you’ve earned it. Please be well and don’t feel like you have to avoid me. You don’t.

I love you.

I’m sorry.