We spent the next five months spending every spare moment we could together. Ours was a “don’t ask, don’t tell” relationship. On many occasions, he would ignore booty calls and texts while sitting in the car, just talking and enjoying a milkshake with me. Secure in my worth, this never bothered me. On the flip side, I was “dating” an Accounting Major my parents and congregation deemed appropriate.
But none of that mattered. In the little bubble that was my car in the wee hours of the morning, our relationship was perfection. We understood each other, and felt free to express ourselves.
Unfortunately, the perfection ended when we exited the car. Our glaring dissimilarities threatened to tear us apart. Our feelings for one another were deepening, and the sexual tension between us was palpable. He knew my feelings toward casual sex/relationships (with my virginity still intact, it WASN’T happening!); I knew his feelings about committed relationships (he wasn’t interested).
And so…we parted.
Simple as that.
One day, we just stopped talking, emailing, gchatting, AIMing (uh oh, did that show my age?). We just cut each other off. No difficult conversations, no awkward goodbye, no “we can still be friends”. We both simply retreated into the safe relationships that were familiar to us. He, to his jump-off (whom he later gave a title), me, to my “socially acceptable” Accountant. For over a year and a half, we only spoke when we happened to pass one another on campus, or when Facebook reminded us that the other existed. It was as if we had made an unspoken decision not to ruin what could be by what was. We weren’t ready for one another—and we both knew it.