When we met as backpackers in Europe, I thought you were a bit doofy. At the ripe age of 22, you were already wearing dad jeans and button-downs. But like me, you had a predilection for singing both loudly and off-key.
We were both servers at the same little coffee shop. Much to the delight of our Irish customers, you spoke in a heavy southwestern twang while I spoke like Elle Woods. Together we were a dynamic yet platonic duo. Over the years, we kept in touch as we both ping-ponged around the globe. I soon realized you had a crush on me. But I wasn't quite ready.
One day you asked me if I wanted to go on a cross-country road trip. Something felt different this time. I agreed nervously. Why did I suddenly think there was something between us?
Well turns out there was. All of a sudden, after years of just friendship, the sparks EXPLODED. We both had matured and you now seemed less doofy and more manly.
I was convinced we were meant to be. We dated long-distance after the road trip, skyping to keep the flame alive. Then right when I was supposed to meet your parents for Christmas, you decided it would be better if I didn’t come.
After a long, dragged-out argument, I broke it off. You had a crush on me
for YEARS. You dropped the L-word. I was both angry and heartbroken.
Fast forward eight months later, and I was flipping the channels.
Guess who I saw? You. And your new girlfriend. On House Hunters.
I ALMOST DIED! Part of me hoped your new home burned to the ground.
Part of me was laughing because the whole thing was so unbelievably absurd.
Funnily enough, you kept stalking my website. Which made me feel kind of bad for your new GF, but not really.
Just a Memory