“I’m not lonely, I’m alone.” -One Day

I glanced at my phone, all the more aware by the hour that he hadn’t responded to, or sent, a single text today. His last message from the night before, after asking if I would be be out all night, said he was ‘paranoid’–for whatever reason, I was unaware of, or simply refused to acknowledge.

He was trying to be, but was not quite yet, my boyfriend.

- – -

But, yet, as many times as my girlfriends have joked that I respond to situations like a male–I couldn’t stop my mind from reacting in the same exact way I always did when a guy let on too many of his feelings.

I blanched when asked if I could date. Looked at my phone and hid it under my pillow. Rolled my eyes when he called me ‘beautiful.’

As a New Year’s resolution, I told him he should stop saying the ‘L’ word as much–it was freaking me out and I didn’t know how to respond to so many doting words.

"Whatever happens tomorrow, we had today."

I’d always told myself I’d be different with the right person–I’d stop running away from affection, I’d hold the person’s hand longer than a minute, I’d respond to texts because it’s the right thing to do–but while I was sure he was the right person, it just couldn’t be the right timing.

It had to be easier for me if I was ready. I could feel it in my bones, it was noticeable how it was still like pulling teeth to convince myself I needed to be more thoughtful. It pissed me off that he couldn’t behave in a normal manner any longer. Everything I loved about his personality as a best friend, was slowly being overshadowed by how he undoubtedly acted as a significant other.

He was being clingy, making ‘boyfriend’-esque inquiries [are you staying out all night?], passively-aggressively inviting me places [you can come if you want, but you don't have to], retracting the invites but then later getting angry that I didn’t prioritize him [well you had some bar thing to go to so I didn't want to impose]. 

I tried. It couldn’t be said I didn’t. I worked hard, diligently, on what seemed an endless, daily, basis. To show how much I cared. I bought concert tickets, forced myself to the bar on nights I’d normally write off any other person, wrote long and introspective e-mails–deeply expressing my feelings, drove all the way to his house to drop off a thoughtful card, picked him up from the airport–even though it was dangerously past my bedtime.

But he still wasn’t convinced, satisfied, that I thought of him as more than just a friend. Wouldn’t feel content, I was sure, until I screamed it from the mountaintops–or perhaps our city skyscrapers–that we were an item, titled it all on Facebook.

And I refused to give him that. I wouldn’t be in a relationship until I was damn well ready. I wouldn’t be guilt-tripped into changing my status, when I was too invested in my single life at the time. And it’s not even about the hook-ups anymore–because truth was told I wasn’t having them–it was the fact that I wanted to see myself with this right person for years on end, and years–right now–is not something I am currently willing to invest.

One day. One day, I told him once, is better than me stuttering years ago that I couldn’t see him as anything more. Because, now I can–now, I can see how great we could be together. I envision us doing all the things a normal, stable [late] 20′s relationship is about. But, not now.

I’m too damn selfish to pseudo-date a girly boy right now.