subject line: "You're the girl."

 

boston, massachusetts

We came together through the most odd of circumstances. It felt like a bad romantic comedy.

I remember the day it happened; when my heart got broken by someone who didn’t know what he wanted other than whatever that was, definitely was not me. The fraction of me that wasn’t devastated saw it coming. It was the difference between the look an artist gives his masterpiece and the look he gives his “maybe there will be better” rough draft. I’ve never been The Girl for anyone. Just a girl.

And as I sat alone in that coffee shop, trying not to cry, he joined me. And listened, And empathized. And gave me the most genuine hug that made the pounding heartache bearable. “If you need to talk or anything, let me know,” turned into twice a week as the aftershocks crumbled the rest of my heart. It was messy and weepy, and I begged him for answers he couldn’t give from the one who broke me. He picked up my pieces and helped put me back together. We spent Valentine’s day together with Sweeney Todd and sarcastic banter about being single. “I know this isn’t how you wanted or visioned this holiday to go, but thank you for spending some of it with me,” he interrupted with sobering empathy.

Somewhere along the next 4 months he became my best friend. The one that texts you funny pictures at 2am, and wishes you good luck on your exam 5 minutes before and asks how it went 5 minutes after. The kind of kindred who sits for hours talking deeply about life over tea, and makes you laugh uncontrollably. Somehow during those late chats and loud laughs, him and I became “we”.

We sat under the stars as he poured his soul into my eyes and whispered, “You’re the girl I want to fall passionately in love with.”

”You’re the girl.”

And honestly, nothing has terrified me more than those words.