The Email I Didn’t Send:
“I have to tell you that I was so happy to look at my phone this morning and not have a text from you canceling our plans tonight that I have been looking forward to for two weeks. And… then I saw your email.
In case you were wondering how I feel about all of this which, I know, isn’t a factor: I feel sick and sad. And stupid. It seems silly to be so upset over losing someone I was only dating for about four months and only saw once a week (or less). But I knew the first week I met you that you were unlike the other guys I had met online, or even since I’ve lived in New York for that matter. I believed you when you said you really liked me and that you were only seeing me. It took me several dates to be able to trust that you weren’t just someone who was going to tell me what I wanted to hear to get me to sleep with you, then bail a few weeks later. But nevertheless, here we are.
You were worth it to me to be forgiving and supportive of your busy schedule, to take things very slowly and only see you when you could fit in a night here and there. You were worth it to try and overlook the fact that it never quite seemed like you properly ended things with your ex. You were worth it to take your ups and downs and intermittent communication in stride. I felt good about myself because I had stepped outside my usual comfort zone of what I expect in the beginning of a new relationship and could be flexible to your needs. The only problem was… I wasn’t worth it to you.
The socially acceptable thing for me to do in this situation would be to not respond to your email. Act like I don’t care because you were just another guy I met online. Quietly remove you from my Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Tumblr, and, without a word, slip back into the sea of people in this city who are inconsequential to your world.
But I think I deserve that you take a split second of time from your busy schedule to consider my feelings before you completely cast me aside. Especially since you chose to break things off with me via a quick and easy 3:30am email– rather than showing at least some respect by talking to me face to face.”
The Email I Sent:
“Ok. Good luck with your auditions!
One night, I went to see some odd band at Bill’s Bar with a friend and the guy she was dating. The band wasn’t my scene and my friend and I got separated in the crowd, so I headed towards the bar. I selected the most attractive guy standing at the bar and sneaked my way in next to him. Normally I would’ve just smiled, purchased my drink, and moved on… but this particular evening I was feeling ambitious. I told him I had decided that he was the most attractive guy there, to which he responded by paying for my drink. Bear in mind that now, in my old age of 27, nary am I that bold. We shared another drink and the next thing I know we are balancing on a toilet, making out in the women’s restroom. As things began to get as serious as they can be in a public restroom, suddenly I heard a loud male voice, shouting and banging on the stall door. It was the bouncer, who had caught on to our antics and was kicking us out of the venue. I threw my sweater back on before being aggressively escorted to the front door. The bouncer asked for both of our IDs and I handed him my passport (I had lost my driver’s license earlier that month). He photo-copied it and added it to a “Do Not Let In” list on the back wall of the ticket booth. As I parted ways with the guy from the bar, I took his New York Yankees hat off his head and put it on (I never was a big Red Sox fan). He told me we would have to hang out again so he could get it back. The next day, I woke up with a new hat on my pillow and a friend request on Facebook. It took me a few photos to figure out it was the guy from the night before- It had been dark and drunk. I guess he took note of my name while my passport photo was being plastered to the wall. Needless to say, I never went to Bill’s Bar again and mystery man never got his hat back (sorry!).
A few months later, out again with my poor friend from school, I happened upon a guy who looked like he could’ve been the brother of my high school boyfriend. They even had the same last name, it was weird. He had a funny little sidekick with him that my friend spent the evening talking to while I was getting to know “Nathan”. After the bar closed, Nathan suggested we all go back to their place to have another drink. My friend wanted to go home, but I begged her to come with me because I didn’t want to go alone. Once there, Nathan and I retired to his bedchambers while my friend was irritated with me in the living room. We exchanged numbers and got together a few times after that. The only things I can remember about him are that he was extremely attractive (he seriously could have been a model) and that he would booty-call me every other weekend or so. Eventually we stopped texting each other and I started dating someone. Several months later, I moved from an apartment in Allston to a new place in Brighton. One day, I noticed my new next door neighbor coming out of his building at the same time I was leaving mine so I smiled and said “Hello”. The neighbor turned and a look of horror came over his face. It took me a minute to place who he was (I ran out of contacts back in ’07 and never bought more)… it was Nathan. He must have just moved in as well. A girl came skipping out of the building after him and he embraced her, hurrying her away. Later that day I got a text from Nathan that read: “My girlfriend is really jealous. Act like you don’t know me if we run into each other again.” I never dreamed as a little girl, that by the time I was in my early twenties, I would have the opportunity to play the role of “The Other Woman” so many times.