An Open Letter to the Guy I Had a Thing With

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Dear Guy I had a Thing With (whatever that thing was),

I keep thinking about you. When you texted me randomly last week, I knew you were thinking about me, too. Guys don’t just text girls randomly after a few weeks without motive. After some small talk, you admitted that we should hook up again. You also mentioned you’d come to some realizations. What could you possibly want a year later? Has it actually been a year since you got some action and can no longer endure your dry season?

I can’t deny that there’s a natural chemistry between us. I can’t deny that I haven’t reconsidered hooking up again because I’ve been thinking about it since I last saw you, but I refuse to feel foolish again until you tell me what you want from me.

I should probably tell you that I went on a date with a guy to frozen yogurt. Even though he’s super sweet, he’s not you. When he told me that he couldn’t watch someone cry or listen to her feelings that bothered me. You know I like my feelings to be heard.

Remember the time you sat with me until 4 a.m. on the couch and let me vent about my friend drama, completely disregarding the fact that you were playing video games with my brother? As soon as I began to vent, you ignored him. You listened attentively and cared, and that’s something other guys wouldn’t do. You were there for me when we weren’t hooking up anymore because that’s how our thing worked.

Although it’s been a year since we last hooked up in the backseat of your car to weird music on the radio, I still remember how you kept looking at me through your glasses because you know I hate eye contact. There was something in that look that made me feel there was a thing between us.

You convinced me to trespass onto the boats by the dock near my house. You hopped onto the boat first then took my hand as I jumped in, almost falling. When I gave you the “don’t laugh at me” look, you kissed me under the milky twilight.  That moment threw me off and made me believe whatever we had was far more than just physical attraction. When I returned back to FSU that weekend, my roommate said that my face resembled a heart eyes emoji.

I met so many guys this past year. A few took me on dates, some were malfunctioned hook ups and one began to fall for me. It turns out I don’t want what I can easily have. I wasn’t into any of the guys I met, mainly because I’m starting to love myself again. It’s the, “I like you, but I like me more.”

With you, it’s different. You make me want to dress up in a leather suit Grease style and tell you that you need to shape up. But unlike Sandy, I’m not asking you to be a better man. I’m asking you to tell me that you want me and to stop denying our clear connection.

I learned my lesson. I won’t pressure you. I don’t even want commitment. Like that Cheap Trick song, I want you to want me. We can put this tension aside and at least agree that it doesn’t matter what the rules are, just that our feelings are mutual. Isn’t that what makes this thing we have exciting? Knowing that there are no rules and that we just care for each other without you having to take me on a date. I guess knowing you like me makes me have equal power over this thing we have, and it isn’t just you taking advantage of the way I feel.

I want you, because having a thing with you is like watching a new episode of Breaking Bad. The cliffhanger at the end of each episode makes the viewer tune in again to see if Walter White will actually get caught cooking meth. You are my cliffhanger.

So this letter is for you, the guy I like to chase or the guy I have a thing with (whatever this thing is). We aren’t friends with benefits because you know too many of my insecurities. We aren’t dating because you haven’t even taken me to Chipotle. You’re not my boyfriend because I’m free to hook up with someone else. You aren’t my friend because we’re too attracted to each other to share memories past the bedroom.

We’re just two people that hangout, have fun and often claim territory over the other, yet we can’t be mad when the other does their own thing because we aren’t dating. But I’m tired of not being able to explain what this is, so please tell me what you want from this thing that we have.


The Girl Who is Done Wondering

Student, passionate writer, addicted to ice vanilla lattes, obsessed with Mike Wazowski from Monster’s Inc. and a senior studying Communication and Creative Writing at Florida State University.

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