We’re taking a break from holiday blogs for this special announcement: I DID IT AGAIN! HOW DO YOU LIKE ME NOW, WORLD??
Story time. So pretty much everyone knows the Dylan story by now. It was one of my main motivations in starting this project, and it has almost been completely resolved because of this project. But I’m here today (tonight) to tell you about a different saga that occurred almost at the exact same time, just in an entirely different facet of my life.
April 2nd, 2008 marked a day that I never imagined would be significant. I was new to a Facebook application called “Are You Interested?” and was “matched” with a boy who went by the name of Sean Patrick. Not entirely sure what to expect, I messaged him with a simple “Hi. We are apparently a match. I’m Bri.”
I didn’t really expect him to reply, let alone have it go anywhere. But it did. Oh, but it did. Innocent at first, we discussed the merits of different genres of literature and James Bond, in between gripes about our respective towns and our respective high schools. I learned that he lived a mere three hours away from me, was a year ahead of me in school, liked science, and dreamed of being a real life James Bond. And as I learned this, I also subconsciously discovered the one person who could rock my world just as entirely as Dylan could.
And that was saying an awful lot.
It was no secret that the strange online relationship went from friendly to romantic a bit quickly for both of us. I had just ended my year long relationship with my best male friend and he was starting to plan for college. Really, it was bad timing for both of us. But we didn’t notice. It was the summer, and the flirting happened only on the internet. Nothing much could come from it, right? Wrong.
I could go on about the ups and downs of the summer before my junior year of high school, but that would take up the next three hours, and I only have one hour to post this blog before tomorrow. So I’ll suffice to say that the emotional rollercoaster, which grew to include phone calls and webcam chats on top of social networking sites, ended with my logging onto Facebook one day and finding in my news feed this gem: “Sean Patrick has gone from single to in a relationship.”
As honestly heartbroken as I was, I figured this would be the end of our contact. But unfortunately not. He soon began spamming my phone line seeking advice on his new turbulent relationship with a girl he once described as “a lot like you.” (Meaning me. Hint for guys everywhere: never tell a girl you were previously openly involved with that your new beau is “a lot like” her, and never ever tell her that “you would really like her!” It’s the kiss of death) Being the overly nice idiot that I am, I caved in and began giving near-daily advice to him. Imagine how that felt. Oh, and on top of all that, he liked to sprinkle “I miss you” and “I wish things were different” into his pleading for advice. So much for trying to move on.
It’s important to note that this was all going on right as Dylan announced to me over Yahoo chat that I was “dorky. nerdy. strange. annoying.” and that he was “done.” The beginning of junior year was fun, as you can imagine.
From about December-early March, Sean and I had very little contact. He was busy with his deteriorating relationship and I was busy hiding everything I was feeling from the majority of people in my life. But once March’s end neared, I started hearing more and more from Mr. Patrick (not his real name). Soon, we were flirting like it was the summer before and none of the year since had even transpired. I was at first disgusted with myself for being so weak, but I recognize now that it was the offhanded remarks that had kept me holding on for so long. The “if we were closer to each other it could have worked out” lines and the classic “I miss you”s had never really ceased.
I finally divulged to my parents that he existed, and although they were wary at first, they soon realized that if he wanted to come and murder me or something equally as friendly, he would have done so already. Hah. If only that was his weapon of choice; physical pain.
This last summer started off with the promise of something more; of a relationship that existed in labels of “boyfriend” and “girlfriend”. And I had every reason to expect such, as Sean’s assurances and sweet talking were more fervent than ever. We met in person- twice. He met both my parents, my brother, my mom’s best friend, and her two daughters. And he had a resounding thumbs up from all of them. If that didn’t convince you of his integration into my real life, try this out for size: he played X-box with my brother and then challenged him to ping-pong.
But here’s the real kicker, ladies and gentlemen. About mid-July, he dropped the bomb. Not the f-bomb, since it’s so overused it’s not really a bomb anymore. No, he dropped a bomb much, much more deadly. He dropped the “L” bomb.
“I love you” always seemed to simple, but when he said it, there was something different. It was as if a thousand doors opened at the same time, each one revealing opportunities and emotions that I never even knew existed. Those words coming out of his mouth felt like a new beginning.
As you can probably imagine, however, it wasn’t to last. Not much sooner had his lips uttered those fateful three words than did he give me a few more. “I’m unwilling to commit.”
Summer ended as smoothly as it knows how, but our relationship didn’t. Sean made it very clear that after the summer ended, so did our romantic involvement. Having an ultimatum was nice, and I agreed gratefully. But two days before the beginning of the year, he ended a conversation with “i love you.” Naturally, I was angry and refused to respond. This then spurred an angry Facebook email from him, which I responded to as rationally as I could. After two weeks of silence, he texted me, and everything seemed fixed.
Only nothing was actually fixed. Again the offhanded comments started. “You look pretty today.”
“I miss you.”
“I can’t watch James Bond without thinking of you.”
Two months ago, I defriended him on Facebook, hoping that it would end the feelings that I just couldn’t stand anymore. But the texts and Gmail chats kept coming, although at a slower rate.
It was killing me. And finally, I decided, enough was enough.
This is what I told him tonight.
me: I deleted you on Facebook because I couldn’t take it anymore. Because every time I had to see a status update from you about being happy just about sent me over the edge. Because every time you posted new pictures of you with fifteen new girls, smiling and having a good time, killed me a little inside. It wouldn’t have been a problem, except that I wasn’t over you, because you wouldn’t let me be.
You are so ahead of the curve honey. I’m very proud of you.