written for someone who will never see this

Spending time with you meant the world to me. Meeting you was a surprise—I never expected to like you this much. When we matched on Hinge, I didn’t have high expectations for our first meetup. Every guy I had met before never gave me that hopeful feeling of wanting to see them again. But then you came along.

I still remember our first date—eating sushi, talking for hours, completely lost in conversation. Strangers even told us we should end up together because they overheard how well we clicked. They said they hoped we’d be happy in the long run. In that moment, it felt like fate. We were so caught up in each other that we didn’t even look at the menu until the waitress asked if we were ready to order. From the very first moment, it felt effortless.

I love your eyes—your brown eyes that make me forget all my worries. And your smile… I never want to forget it. That was when I knew I wanted to know you more. I came home that night feeling ecstatic. Our conversations flowed so naturally, and for the first time since my last relationship ended, I felt a spark again. I still laugh thinking about us joking about your big sushi, doing a makeshift "chubby bunny" challenge. You probably don’t realize how happy I was when you told me missing the NFL game was worth it just to spend time with me. My heart fluttered. I was excited for our next date.

You were the one who initiated seeing me again. We made plans, and every time we were together, I cherished it. I loved our trip to the arcade, playfully arguing over who would win in Mario Kart. I still think you lost to me on purpose, but I guess I’ll never know. I still have the prizes—thank you for letting me have all the tickets. I forgot to give you the toy I got for your dog... It’ll just sit on my shelf, waiting.

In the beginning, everything was good. We went on dates, spent time together outside of just your room. I still think about our conversations in the car outside Insomnia Cookies—how easily we talked about everything and nothing. I loved that about us. No matter how random or nonsensical, we always had something to say. I loved how willing you were to do anything with me—trying new restaurants, even checking out a German festival to celebrate your heritage. I was your tour guide around town, wasn’t I? Or was I just a temporary one until you had to leave? A temporary person?

Despite those thoughts, I still wanted more nights with you. I wanted to stay over when it felt too comfortable to leave. If you were mine, if we were committed, I would’ve known what it felt like to fall asleep beside you. We never even took a nap together. There were so many plans, so many places waiting for us.

I’m glad you enjoyed the movies I recommended. You made watching them feel more special. You were the only guy who felt like he was on the same wavelength as me—our humor, our playful flirting, our completely out-of-pocket conversations. I never knew someone could handle me—my communication, my desires, my indecisiveness.

Maybe that’s why it hurts more. There was never a bad memory with you. You were such a good guy, and I wish we had met at a different time—sooner or later, when we were both ready.

Your touch set fire to my body. I’ve never felt anyone touch me so intimately, so naturally. The way you kissed my neck, the way you held onto my shoulders, the way you marked me—I truly felt like I was yours.

But I wasn’t.

I don’t know why it was so easy for you to say goodbye. I know you never wanted a relationship, but I guess I let you string me along. Or maybe I strung myself along. As stupid as it was, I thought that if I waited long enough, you could be the one. Maybe you sensed my expectations, and being the good guy you are, you let me go. You said you never meant to lead me on, never meant to use me.

But I led myself on.

I let you use me just as I used you—to fulfill my own hopeless delusions.

And yet, I don’t regret it.

I don’t regret the nights we spent together. I don’t regret letting you get close.

I don’t regret you.