Elsewhere

There was this girl.

Actually, “there was this girl” makes it sound far more dramatic than it really was, because if I’m being completely honest, almost nothing actually happened between us. There was no grand romance, no situationship, no heartbreak, not even an awkward confession followed by rejection. Hell, we didn’t even go out on a date or anything. 

There was simply a brief period of time, somewhere around 2018, when two mutual friends of ours thought we should meet because she was looking for someone and I happened to exist, which apparently qualified me for consideration.

The four of us met at a coffee shop on campus one quiet afternoon. I remember the ambience was nice. I remember being so awkward while my friend, being naturally funny and charming, spent most of the afternoon making her laugh while I sat there trying to remember how normal people behave around attractive women. I was shy, nervous, and contributed just enough to appreciate our two friends for arranging the rendezvous. I honestly don’t know why she even agreed to exchange Instagram accounts with me afterwards, but somehow she did.

And then, surprisingly, we talked. Through Instagram direct messages. Not a lot, but enough. We were talking for a few weeks, I think. I remember one night when I had a few drinks and, as often happens when alcohol temporarily convinces you that you’re more interesting and attractive than you really are, I texted her. To my surprise, the conversation flowed naturally. She was funny, I was funny (at least I think I was), and I remember going to bed thinking that maybe there was something there.

Then I disappeared.

No explanation, no dramatic reason, no misunderstanding. I just simply stopped texting her. Looking back, I think I was just young and weird and didn’t really know how to pursue someone. Or maybe I got scared. Or maybe I felt that the vibe wasn’t there. Or maybe I figured that she’s not exactly the one I want, or that our conversations felt forced or required too much effort when I’m sober. Or maybe I was distracted by life. Whatever the reason, that tiny chapter quietly closed before it ever had the chance to become anything.

Life, of course, went on. I dated other people, spent years in relationships, got my heart broken, healed, and became an entirely different person. And yet, every now and then, usually around birthdays or when Instagram stories appeared at the right moment, we’d exchange a few words like distant acquaintances who happened to share a forgotten footnote in each other’s lives.

Lately, though, I’ve found myself thinking about her again, and I think that’s funny because I don’t actually miss her. There isn’t enough history there to miss. In fact, if someone asked me to describe our story, I would struggle to fill more than a paragraph. But I do find myself wondering about the alternate universe version of us. What if I hadn’t disappeared? What if we had gone on a date? Would we have hit it off? Would we have become good partners? Would we have been kind to each other? Or would we have discovered after three dates that physical attraction and good texting are wonderful things, but unfortunately not a substitute for compatibility?

Who knows.

To be fair, she is very close to being my definition of hot. Pretty and fierce face in a kind of unique way. A little thick and curvaceous. And maybe this entire train of thought is simply my brain expressing itself through desire. Maybe being single after spending so many years with someone else makes me more receptive to fantasies and possibilities. Maybe I’m just lonely, and a bit horny. Perhaps attraction has a way of making unfinished stories feel more profound than they really are. 

I don’t know.

She’s in the US now, studying, I think. I’m not going to text her. That would just be weird.

Besides, I don’t think this is really about her.

I don’t even think she’s “the one that got away”, because nothing got away. There was never anything to lose in the first place. If anything, she’s just one of those roads I never took, and every now and then I catch myself looking at it and wondering what was waiting on the other side.

And perhaps that’s all this is.

Not longing, not regret, not some secret love story that I’ve been carrying around for eight years, but simply the realization that after all the relationships, heartbreaks, disappointments, and healing, I think I’m ready to be curious about someone again. I think I miss being excited. I miss wondering whether she likes me. I miss staying up talking to someone. I miss the feeling that anything could happen.

And maybe that’s why my mind brought me back to this almost-stranger from 2018. Not because she’s the answer, but because she reminds me that I’m finally ready to ask the question again.

Maybe, my heart is reminding me of this story to simply say:

“Hey.

I think we’re ready to be excited about someone again.“

And honestly, that’s kind of nice.