He said he’d think about it.
I mean, after one night of thinking, he didn’t think long distance was feasible. For his own reasons. Unnecessary to disclose.
And I felt him. I did.
And I cried in the middle of the sidewalk.
He didn’t tell me to stop. Which I appreciated. I hate when people tell me to stop crying.
So I cried in the middle of the sidewalk, made a fuss about how I knew I’d get my heart broken, and I should’ve kept my mouth shut and accept the fact that I’d end up all alone and when he said not to say that and that it was him and not me, I refused to accept it. I refused to let him think it was his fault. It wasn’t. It wasn’t mine either. It was time and circumstance.
And I called my best friend crying and asked where she was and said I was on my way back to the apartment and asked if we could talk when I got back and she said she’d meet me at my apartment. When she asked what was wrong, I said I’d tell her later because he was five feet behind me.
She turned off the call and I heard him call from behind to take care and that I’d be okay.
Confused, I looked back. He had stopped following. I suppose the comment about him being “five feet behind me” did that. At first, I took a few steps, hell bent on running away. Throwing a temper tantrum, making him feel terrible felt like the right choice. Let him regret it. Right? WRONG. I took two steps before I realized, I didn’t want to run away. What I really wanted to do was run toward him. I wanted to run straight into his arms and kiss him. But those kisses only work in the movies. I didn’t have the courage. So, I instead I lied that I didn’t know the way back. I might’ve been mildly disoriented from the crying and the cold so I wasn’t completely lying, but he began walking with me again. Which was exactly what I wanted.
And I told him I wasn’t mad at him. I was just mad at the situation, at the timing, at the circumstances.
And we kept walking and talking.
I realized that for him – and to be honest, for the majority of people – fear about long distance is mostly based on second hand knowledge. What they show in movies, what our friends tell us, what we witness in the world around us. But how can we be sure that that’ll be the outcome of our story?
Those people are not us.
It’s like when we watch a low rated movie. Just because half a million people said they didn’t like it doesn’t mean we won’t like it, too.
I had raised my voice a little when I raised this point. And I apologized for it.
He said not to. He said he needed to hear it.
And I began to freeze in the cold, and I got hungry, and I had told my friend I would meet her back the apartment, and there were probably a thousand other reasons he might say no and this is only Day 2 of a 100-Day convo and we’d talk about it tomorrow.
But right before I went inside, we stopped for a moment. And he said I was right about how he couldn’t make decisions based on second hand knowledge.
So he said he’d think about it.
He’d think about it.
He’d think about it?
He’d think about it…
Which is more than any guy (or anyone) ever did for me.
Everyone’s so stubborn and set in their ways.
But he said he’d think about it.
And what more do I need?
