Of all the things I expected to find in life, you weren’t one of them. You came into the picture so quickly and so intensely that before I knew it, you were an integral part of my life and someone I couldn’t imagine not being part of it. Unfortunately, timing is everything and it didn’t work out… but I’m not quite ready to write you out of my story just yet.
- Everything was so easy. We clicked immediately, and within weeks the flirty texts became late night conversations, home-cooked meals and the kind of lazy Sundays that don’t require getting out of bed. It was so natural that the walls I spent years building began to crumble piece by piece — and I was all too happy to let them.
- You were incredible. You were smart, witty, sweet, kind, humble, determined… I could go on and on. You were everything I knew I wanted and finally knew I could have. You proved to me that there are good guys out there, that I could be myself and that someone would like me for it. You were supportive, you listened and you remembered the little things. You were basically the guy I always dreamed of finding but didn’t think I ever would.
- I was actually happy again. I loved spending time with you, getting to know you and laughing with you. You were passionate one minute, silly the next, and encouraging always. You destroyed all my misconceptions about what I do and don’t deserve. Every time I drove away from your place I was beaming, and I can’t tell you how nice that felt.
- I was honest from the start that I couldn’t commit. I’d been burned before and I  just wasn’t ready to trust again. I told you that I couldn’t give you anything other than casual and I truly meant it. We agreed that we would see where things went without expecting too much. We agreed to be supportive without holding each other back. We agreed to be our true selves without apologizing for it. That freedom felt amazing.
- We found the sweet spot. There’s a line between just friends and being more, and we didn’t just find it, we swung back and forth comfortably. Companionship, intimacy, adventure, laughter — we had it all. I met your friends and you met mine. We weren’t afraid to act like a couple but we didn’t have the obligations that come with being exclusive. Our almost relationship was perfect… for a while.
- But then, we hit a snag. You began to wrestle with professional stress and changes, and though I tried to be there, slowly you started to pull away. For the first time since we met, my texts felt clingy. My invitations to hang out felt like burdens. My incessant asking how you were doing felt unwelcome. I second guessed reaching out and started drafting and re-drafting my messages before I sent them. I felt pathetic.
- I took time to explore what else was out there. After all, we weren’t official, right? I decided to use the space you said you needed to explore my other options as well. Really, I wanted to distract myself from thinking about you by getting to know other people and to see what it was like to date someone who wasn’t you.
- I didn’t expect to miss you this much. I expected it to feel strange. I knew I’d wonder how you were doing and I figured I’d compare everyone to you, at least for awhile. I thought I’d feel guilty even though I was doing nothing wrong and I knew you’d pop into my head when I wasn’t expecting it, but I didn’t expect to miss you so damn much.
- I miss everything about our relationship, whatever it was. I miss your friendship, your encouragement, your cooking, your laugh. I miss our conversations about anything and everything and our Netflix marathons. I even miss your teasing. How is it possible to become so attached to another person when I’d done everything I could to ensure this never happened?
- I’ll wait for you. The absence of a label doesn’t always mean the absence of feelings and even though I can’t name them, this hole in the pit of my stomach is proof that whatever they are, they’re there. For now, you’ve put us on pause. You need time to figure things out and I respect that. I just want you to know that if you decide to press play, I’ll be here.
