It was a Wednesday afternoon when she first messaged me, through the Tumblr messaging app. She wasn’t exactly my type, not someone I really found attractive. My friend Natalie pointed out that I should take a chance with her. I typed out a quick reply to her. When I got out of my class, I had already forgotten about this interaction, and was ready to move on with my day. Little did I know, she had already written a reply back, so we kept talking. Eventually, I gave her my number, because why not. She also seemed like a decent person, which was hard to come by.
We ended up talking all day. Her name was KB. We texted about where we came from, the things we liked to do, where we wanted our futures to go. She seemed like a lot of fun, definitely someone I could see myself with. She lived in New York, making her 3 hours ahead of me. Eventually, it got late. She asked if she could talk to me tomorrow. I smiled at the thought of us talking all day tomorrow.
We had been talking for about two or three weeks, and I thought that there could be something serious between us. There was joyful routine, both of us were happy (at least that was what I thought). She told me she thought I was her type, I told her she didn’t know what she was saying, but I texted all my friends anyway. I was happy, mainly because I felt I was still lovable, especially after the rough breakup between me and my ex. I believed my friends when they said they were happy for me.
Pretty soon, I started noticing small things that would make me uncomfortable. KB was polite for the most part, but she would make fun of me for my interests, under the guise of “teasing”. She would say things that would bother me, and whenever I called her out on it, she would always find a way to twist the situation such that it would make me seem like I was overreacting. But always, there were the excuses. It would be okay for her to do something, but not okay for me to do the same exact thing. We fought constantly, I was living in a state of constant tension, not knowing when the next fight would come.
It was a Thursday morning when I got the text that I was expecting for a while now. She said she wanted to “stay friends”. We had lasted for about two months.
It was a routine: dinner with a few friends as a form of breakup therapy. They told me they never liked the looks of her, she had the look of a self pitying attention drain. They insisted it would be better for me to just walk away. I took another bite of sushi and agreed. I desperately wanted to believe them.
I kept tabs on her Tumblr for a while. A few months later, we reconnected again. She had met someone new. I didn’t know how to feel, but at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. The other girl didn’t feel the same way about her. We talked for a couple months more, and it became apparent to me that she hadn’t changed at all. She was still the same condescending, self-righteous person I had thought she was all those months ago. After a few days of not talking, she sends me a message with just a “Hi”. When I didn’t respond in about a day, it became apparent that she had blocked me on social media and blocked my number.
How childish, I thought. But then again, how predictable. At this point in my life, I simply just didn’t care.
About three weeks later (as of Oct. 14, 2016), it feels like nothing has changed in my life. I guess that’s how you know you’ve moved on from someone: when talking to them feels more like a hassle than anything else. My friend asks me if I had bothered to check up on her since, and my response ran along the lines of, why should I, when things are going great for me?
A few days ago, a friend asked me how to get over a girl that he had feelings for. My solution for him was simple: find the right someone, and things will figure themselves out. I had the good fortune of having met someone who had a stellar personality, someone who helped erase all trace of KB from my memory. It might seem impossible, but good girls are hard to find.
My friend Natalie asked me how I felt about this situation. I told her, people who break up end up in competition with each other, even if they won’t admit it. In order to win, you need to live a better life. I’m pretty sure I’ve won.