subject line: so much more than this. December 29, 2015 by Hannah Brencher new jersey My friends call me a serial dater. One suitor walks out and another quickly steps up to take his place - I don’t think I go out of my way to find a guy but I definitely don’t do anything to prevent a relationship if I feel like he’s a good person. During my short single periods, it’s always been easy to fill my time with someone cute, someone funny, someone smart, someone kind until “boyfriend material” comes along. But, inevitably, the whirlwind romance comes to an end. Usually a messy end. And I’m not saying it doesn’t hurt - oh, it does. Every single time, every relationship, in the quiet moments of comfort, around month 9 or 10, I let my mind wander into the possibility of “the end.” I’ll be okay, I think. I don’t need them, I tell myself, I just WANT them. But, when I empty my box of collected clothes and toiletries and books and condoms that I’ve taken back from my drawer at their place, a tornado touchs down somewhere near my navel. It takes my breath away and rocks my stomach. I cry until I throw up. I sleep on the bathroom floor because it’s the one place I know won’t smell like them, feel like them. Slowly, day by day, week by week, I scrap myself from the tile. It’s the same cycle every time - I tell myself I won’t, I tell myself I’ll wait, but every time I let myself fall into a relationship. All the while, I ache for you. I’ve never wanted an ex back. I’ve never had resurfacing feelings for anyone I once dated. But for eight, long years, I’be dreamt about your lips and the fleeting moments I got to taste them. I wake unsure of whether we fucked the night before or if had just been my imagination running wild during my sleep. I screenshot our text conversations, plan out hours for our skype sessions, and leave a pile of discarded outfits before I find the perfect one whenever we’re about to hang out. We say we’re best friends because we don’t know what else to call one another - I know you feel it, too. You’re the only one I’ve pictured at the altar and you’re the only one I never let myself fall in love with.