from Abroad
Dear you,
Do you remember the time when I asked you whether you thought I had just gotten my nose pierced or if it had already been pierced from long before? And then when you guessed wrong, and I told you so, your friend walked up and you told him half-jokingly that I had asked an opinion about my nose ring because I hadn't been getting enough attention for it? Do you remember how I laughed along with you, entirely genuine, enraptured with the idea that you were so quick on your feet, and that you had seen completely through me in a way I hadn't yet seen through myself?
Do you remember the night that you and our friend, the third member of our little love triangle, were supposed to be coming over to my apartment building, and how you both had been messaging the group chat, and how you sent something but before I could respond you burst into my friend's room where I had been taking a nap? Do you remember how one of you said to check the group chat, and then you both smirked and walked out of the room? You can't possibly remember my face or the loud guffaw I let out after you had both left and I finally did check the group chat, only to see a picture the two of you had taken after sneaking into my room when I wasn't there, but do you remember when I found you in our other friend's apartment, playing some variation of flip cup, and how I went up to both of you, intoxicated with the group chat and the evening and the feeling of being desired and teased, and we all three joked around about the picture you took, like there was no one else in the room? Except that there were other people in the room, and they stared at me as I laughed out loud and left without saying goodbye to anyone except you.
Do you remember the first night we met? I wasn't drunk yet, but I was bravely social in a room full of people I didn't know. I remember that I was wearing my red leggings, and probably no underwear, and I walked right up to you, introducing myself and then turning away like it was nothing? I couldn't have possibly known what an impact that would make on you, but clearly it made some sort of large impact, because you made sure to talk to me the next time. That next time we all went out together, and you and I were in a car with a bunch of our friends, you made a joke that made me laugh audibly, and you looked at me, impressed I had gotten a reference no one else in the car appeared interested in acknowledging. I knew right then that you were smart. Or maybe I just knew then that I liked your confidence.
Remember the first time we went home together? Well, remember the time before that, when you, my friend, and I shared an Uber, and when prompted to go home with you, I declined, then walked straight into my apartment building without looking back? That must have turned you on, right? You loved it when I played coy, when I made it known to you and everyone else that I had plenty of options, that I was desirable and didn't need anyone, least especially you.
Remember the last night I saw you? It was a few days before you were leaving to fly home to the States, maybe two weeks before my own flight. We had come from a pseudo-Halloween party thrown by some girls from my apartment building. We all wore costumes, even though it was July. I was a gymnast, and, drunk, had tripped and fallen down a set of three steps and cut open my knee. We all went to the club without getting a chance to change out our costumes, for me, my white sneakers and spandex, and I couldn't take my mind off you. You didn't really wear a costume, but made a big show when you first saw the insignificance of my spandex, the tight black and purple sleeves on my leotard. I found out that night I think that another girl had joined our love triangle, and had hooked up with you too, that the two of us, she and I, made a pair in the way that I should have expected sooner. Do you remember telling me to go away, to go dance instead of following you around, and how when I did, you suddenly remembered you were into me, and danced with me until I started to dance with you back? I texted you vigorously that night, terrified I would never see you again (I haven't), and vehemently insisting that we get a chance to say goodbye. We didn't. But somehow months later the two of you, both members of my love triangle, commented on one of my pictures on Instagram. I used those two comments to sustain me for weeks of working alone at the pool of an apartment complex near my house.
You weren't the best kisser. I don't feel bad writing that because I haven't mentioned your name, but also because it was true. What drew me to you wasn't the physical, but instead the way you stimulated my mind, the way you made me laugh and the way you were an economics major who liked to read books to improve your intelligence but also because you enjoyed the act of reading. I loved being around you because you called me out for my flaws in the same sarcastic way that I am always doing. I was much more physically attracted to our friend, the third member of the love triangle, and yet when he stared me right in the face in a club called Boogie and asked me who, of the two of you, I would ultimately choose, I chose you, even though that only resulted in a tearful end to my night when you ignored me, blatantly and in front of our friends. I decided at 3:00 in the morning that I would not let you ruin a night like that for me again. It's one of my most mature decisions, and I'm proud for how I stuck to it.
When my friend Gianna rented a house (and a Mercedes) for her birthday weekend, my heart dropped when you showed up. From that moment on I was barely present for the party, especially after it was revealed that you were drunk, and you wanted to go upstairs, and midnight had already passed and Gianna had already chugged champagne and didn't care to entertain the guests who were getting naked and swimming in the pool. The next morning you and I woke up and we took a bath in the giant bathtub connected to my room, although more than being something sexy, I was sober and nervous and so we stared at each other across a pool of clear water and a bathtub made of tiles. Eventually we ended up downstairs, where other people had occupied couches, and where there were tiny piles of wet underwear by the pool, and where someone had cooked eggs or something, because I remember eating scrambled eggs. Our mutual friend Jack told me after you left that you were really shy, that it was because of this that you and I hadn't progressed within the natural fashion, and after a morning of strategic meaningful glances, I believed him wholeheartedly, chalked your distance to me a result of your shyness, the desire for you to want me stronger than any rational thoughts.
I still wonder to this day where your feelings fell. How did I measure up within the love triangle--what would have happened if I hadn't engaged in the thrilling, reckless chase of two boys who were best friends from abroad? What if you and I met again, today, as strangers? Would you still tell me, drunkenly, that you fall in love with me when I dance? Would you still neglect to remember or acknowledge the idea that you would say something like that? Would you still be careful to only stare at me in calibrated instances, and would you still bristle at the idea that a homeless man in front of a bar called the Dubliner could recognize us as a couple from the other night? Would you still be impressed with how I pushed people away, physically, if they were being creepy and trying to dance with my friends? Would you fight and ultimately lose when I asked you to come home with me early one night? Would you ever have invited me to breakfast? You didn't then, but going to class in a hastily changed outfit and the same boots from last night was all the excitement I needed from a relationship with you then.
I remember being at the beach one day, it was especially warm and wonderful, and our friend, member three of the love triangle, suddenly walked up to my friends and I as we sat sunbathing on our towels. He stayed only briefly, he was there to play frisbee or something, and he talked about the sunset cruise he was going to be taking later that evening, with you and a bunch of our other friends. I didn't try very hard, but I did desperately want to be on that cruise. It didn't matter anyway, we all ended up going out in the city together later. But I remember seeing him, at the beach, and periodically waving back as he smiled and waved at me. I knew he appreciated the way I was wearing nothing but a bathing suit, but more than that, I knew he was sweet, nice in a way that I had to forfeit when I thought about you.
I think in that moment on the beach, I remembered a bit of the reason why I couldn't decide between the two of you, didn't want to. You two were so different, he was a guy I wanted to take home to my grandparents, who I wanted to introduce to all my friends from home, and who I knew, confidently, would play soccer with my cousins outside in a park if he got the chance. I know it's dangerous to romanticize someone that way, to put images in your head that aren't actually real and are, for all intents and purposes, only wishful thinking. But he was like that. You, on the other hand, I can hardly imagine fantasies with. The times I had with you were so immersed in my own immediate feelings, were so based on a perception of you that didn't need to be formed, nursed, or created. My perception of you just all of a sudden existed and was real.
I suppose that's why it was harder to forget about him than it was to forget about you. You were someone who existed in my life, but who disappeared like smoke from a cigarette. It seemed natural to forget about you, to eliminate the times we spent together while abroad, because I was easily able to convince myself that you weren't nice, that you never cared about me in the first place. Of course, I couldn't know if that were true, but it's what I used to console myself when I realized you had gotten on a plane to go home to your school in Michigan without texting me to at least reject my offer to have one last goodbye. For a while, my memories about you served just as a reminder of how naive I had been, how big of a mistake I had made when choosing you that night at Boogie instead of him.
But the memories now are fond ones, and they make me glad to have learned the lesson of a love triangle (though I've been in others since then) and they make me want to text the group chat again, if only to serve as a reminder that we were once all living in the same city, and we once had a strange friendship together that culminated in the two of you praising me for being able to laugh off your insults when you teamed up together to tease me.
Do you remember the time when I asked you whether you thought I had just gotten my nose pierced or if it had already been pierced from long before? And then when you guessed wrong, and I told you so, your friend walked up and you told him half-jokingly that I had asked an opinion about my nose ring because I hadn't been getting enough attention for it? Do you remember how I laughed along with you, entirely genuine, enraptured with the idea that you were so quick on your feet, and that you had seen completely through me in a way I hadn't yet seen through myself?
Do you remember the night that you and our friend, the third member of our little love triangle, were supposed to be coming over to my apartment building, and how you both had been messaging the group chat, and how you sent something but before I could respond you burst into my friend's room where I had been taking a nap? Do you remember how one of you said to check the group chat, and then you both smirked and walked out of the room? You can't possibly remember my face or the loud guffaw I let out after you had both left and I finally did check the group chat, only to see a picture the two of you had taken after sneaking into my room when I wasn't there, but do you remember when I found you in our other friend's apartment, playing some variation of flip cup, and how I went up to both of you, intoxicated with the group chat and the evening and the feeling of being desired and teased, and we all three joked around about the picture you took, like there was no one else in the room? Except that there were other people in the room, and they stared at me as I laughed out loud and left without saying goodbye to anyone except you.
Do you remember the first night we met? I wasn't drunk yet, but I was bravely social in a room full of people I didn't know. I remember that I was wearing my red leggings, and probably no underwear, and I walked right up to you, introducing myself and then turning away like it was nothing? I couldn't have possibly known what an impact that would make on you, but clearly it made some sort of large impact, because you made sure to talk to me the next time. That next time we all went out together, and you and I were in a car with a bunch of our friends, you made a joke that made me laugh audibly, and you looked at me, impressed I had gotten a reference no one else in the car appeared interested in acknowledging. I knew right then that you were smart. Or maybe I just knew then that I liked your confidence.
Remember the first time we went home together? Well, remember the time before that, when you, my friend, and I shared an Uber, and when prompted to go home with you, I declined, then walked straight into my apartment building without looking back? That must have turned you on, right? You loved it when I played coy, when I made it known to you and everyone else that I had plenty of options, that I was desirable and didn't need anyone, least especially you.
Remember the last night I saw you? It was a few days before you were leaving to fly home to the States, maybe two weeks before my own flight. We had come from a pseudo-Halloween party thrown by some girls from my apartment building. We all wore costumes, even though it was July. I was a gymnast, and, drunk, had tripped and fallen down a set of three steps and cut open my knee. We all went to the club without getting a chance to change out our costumes, for me, my white sneakers and spandex, and I couldn't take my mind off you. You didn't really wear a costume, but made a big show when you first saw the insignificance of my spandex, the tight black and purple sleeves on my leotard. I found out that night I think that another girl had joined our love triangle, and had hooked up with you too, that the two of us, she and I, made a pair in the way that I should have expected sooner. Do you remember telling me to go away, to go dance instead of following you around, and how when I did, you suddenly remembered you were into me, and danced with me until I started to dance with you back? I texted you vigorously that night, terrified I would never see you again (I haven't), and vehemently insisting that we get a chance to say goodbye. We didn't. But somehow months later the two of you, both members of my love triangle, commented on one of my pictures on Instagram. I used those two comments to sustain me for weeks of working alone at the pool of an apartment complex near my house.
You weren't the best kisser. I don't feel bad writing that because I haven't mentioned your name, but also because it was true. What drew me to you wasn't the physical, but instead the way you stimulated my mind, the way you made me laugh and the way you were an economics major who liked to read books to improve your intelligence but also because you enjoyed the act of reading. I loved being around you because you called me out for my flaws in the same sarcastic way that I am always doing. I was much more physically attracted to our friend, the third member of the love triangle, and yet when he stared me right in the face in a club called Boogie and asked me who, of the two of you, I would ultimately choose, I chose you, even though that only resulted in a tearful end to my night when you ignored me, blatantly and in front of our friends. I decided at 3:00 in the morning that I would not let you ruin a night like that for me again. It's one of my most mature decisions, and I'm proud for how I stuck to it.
When my friend Gianna rented a house (and a Mercedes) for her birthday weekend, my heart dropped when you showed up. From that moment on I was barely present for the party, especially after it was revealed that you were drunk, and you wanted to go upstairs, and midnight had already passed and Gianna had already chugged champagne and didn't care to entertain the guests who were getting naked and swimming in the pool. The next morning you and I woke up and we took a bath in the giant bathtub connected to my room, although more than being something sexy, I was sober and nervous and so we stared at each other across a pool of clear water and a bathtub made of tiles. Eventually we ended up downstairs, where other people had occupied couches, and where there were tiny piles of wet underwear by the pool, and where someone had cooked eggs or something, because I remember eating scrambled eggs. Our mutual friend Jack told me after you left that you were really shy, that it was because of this that you and I hadn't progressed within the natural fashion, and after a morning of strategic meaningful glances, I believed him wholeheartedly, chalked your distance to me a result of your shyness, the desire for you to want me stronger than any rational thoughts.
I still wonder to this day where your feelings fell. How did I measure up within the love triangle--what would have happened if I hadn't engaged in the thrilling, reckless chase of two boys who were best friends from abroad? What if you and I met again, today, as strangers? Would you still tell me, drunkenly, that you fall in love with me when I dance? Would you still neglect to remember or acknowledge the idea that you would say something like that? Would you still be careful to only stare at me in calibrated instances, and would you still bristle at the idea that a homeless man in front of a bar called the Dubliner could recognize us as a couple from the other night? Would you still be impressed with how I pushed people away, physically, if they were being creepy and trying to dance with my friends? Would you fight and ultimately lose when I asked you to come home with me early one night? Would you ever have invited me to breakfast? You didn't then, but going to class in a hastily changed outfit and the same boots from last night was all the excitement I needed from a relationship with you then.
I remember being at the beach one day, it was especially warm and wonderful, and our friend, member three of the love triangle, suddenly walked up to my friends and I as we sat sunbathing on our towels. He stayed only briefly, he was there to play frisbee or something, and he talked about the sunset cruise he was going to be taking later that evening, with you and a bunch of our other friends. I didn't try very hard, but I did desperately want to be on that cruise. It didn't matter anyway, we all ended up going out in the city together later. But I remember seeing him, at the beach, and periodically waving back as he smiled and waved at me. I knew he appreciated the way I was wearing nothing but a bathing suit, but more than that, I knew he was sweet, nice in a way that I had to forfeit when I thought about you.
I think in that moment on the beach, I remembered a bit of the reason why I couldn't decide between the two of you, didn't want to. You two were so different, he was a guy I wanted to take home to my grandparents, who I wanted to introduce to all my friends from home, and who I knew, confidently, would play soccer with my cousins outside in a park if he got the chance. I know it's dangerous to romanticize someone that way, to put images in your head that aren't actually real and are, for all intents and purposes, only wishful thinking. But he was like that. You, on the other hand, I can hardly imagine fantasies with. The times I had with you were so immersed in my own immediate feelings, were so based on a perception of you that didn't need to be formed, nursed, or created. My perception of you just all of a sudden existed and was real.
I suppose that's why it was harder to forget about him than it was to forget about you. You were someone who existed in my life, but who disappeared like smoke from a cigarette. It seemed natural to forget about you, to eliminate the times we spent together while abroad, because I was easily able to convince myself that you weren't nice, that you never cared about me in the first place. Of course, I couldn't know if that were true, but it's what I used to console myself when I realized you had gotten on a plane to go home to your school in Michigan without texting me to at least reject my offer to have one last goodbye. For a while, my memories about you served just as a reminder of how naive I had been, how big of a mistake I had made when choosing you that night at Boogie instead of him.
But the memories now are fond ones, and they make me glad to have learned the lesson of a love triangle (though I've been in others since then) and they make me want to text the group chat again, if only to serve as a reminder that we were once all living in the same city, and we once had a strange friendship together that culminated in the two of you praising me for being able to laugh off your insults when you teamed up together to tease me.
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