I thought he was gay.
He worked in Designer Handbags and wore tight pants and fitted vests and showed me pictures of the vegetarian lasagna he'd made at home.
He was nice to me.
And since my taste in men always mirrored my cooking and cleaning abilities--Lord send me a rich chef to marry--I welcomed the idea of a fabulous new gay boyfriend with the kind of girlish excitement that can only be rivaled in a room full of tiaras or pink cupcakes.
He was handsome.
And he dressed well.
And he thought I was worth talking to.
This was going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.
On our first date he didn't tell me I was pretty.
He didn't compliment my Grace Kelly dress or even my matching velvet bow hat.
He didn't wish me a Happy Day After My Birthday either.
And he didn't pay for my drink.
What kind of gay man doesn't gush about how fabulous I am??
He wasn't gay.
He grabbed my ass in the elevator.
And we made out in a park on our second date.
And he turned out to be the greatest lover and my best friend.
But he was relationally retarded.
And now he's my ex.
I really need to stop falling for gay straight men.
He was different from the guys I'd dated.
He didn't worship me.
He didn't need me to save him.
We were genuine friends.
And I could actually be myself with him.
And we'd talk about everything.
If I got mad at him he never got mad back.
He'd smile, amused, and offer to make me hot chocolate or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Once I went to sleep on the couch and he brought his only blanket out to me to cover me with it.
He slipped a pillow underneath my head.
He was caring.
He was understatedly romantic.
Once I babysat a co workers daughter and he spent the day with both of us.
It was one of those summer days that was unbearably hot so when we all got back to his apartment, without saying a word, he mixed up a sparkling citrus drink and handed each of us a glass.
I smiled.
He did loving stuff like that all the time.
But he never told me I was beautiful.
He never even said he liked me.
He never bought me flowers or jewelry or introduced me to his Mom.
And while I tried to accept that he communicated his affection with his time and his actions, a nagging doubt continuously poked my heart.
If he can't say it, he must not feel it.
And what a wretched fool I am to stick around and wait for it.
I'd never known a man to not tell me how he felt or how he saw me.
Strangers on the street stop to tell me how lovely I look or what beautiful eyes I have.
And my own boyfriend didn't even want to be "in a relationship" with me on Facebook.
What else was I to think?
He wouldn't give me any traditional boyfriend anything.
It annoyed him when I wanted to take pictures together.
If I asked him how I looked or if he liked my outfit all he'd ever say was, "You look adorable."
I knew he liked me.
He obviously wouldn't spend so much time with me if he didn't.
But I felt like some kind of friend.
And I wanted to feel like a woman.
I wanted to feel adored and loved and desirable.
And I didn't.
So I'd get hurt and I'd tell him.
And I'd ask why and he'd say he wasn't ready.
Because to him "I love you" meant Forever.
And it was too soon for that, he'd tell me.
But he wanted to be with me, he reminded me.
And then one day he called and said he wanted to take a break.
He said he didn't know if he did or didn't want to be with me and he needed to know.
But that I did nothing wrong and it wasn't about me.
And he said maybe he'd realize it was all a mistake and then it'd be up to me.
So here I am.
Single because the man I love is confused.
Because he's too young to decide his forever and too scared of his own pasts repetition to bravely trust me with his heart.
I wish I could hate him.
I wish he'd done something or cheated on me or looked me in the eyes and declared he felt nothing for me.
But he was just sad.
And uncertain.
And I'm not 22 anymore.
And I don't want to try and change his mind and help him realize how good I am for him.
Because if he doesn't want me then I don't want him either.
I want a man who knows I am wonderful, from deep inside his gut, even when he doesn't see me or even when I cause him a massive headache, he still smiles.
Because I am his headache.
And he is my stubborn fool.
And we'll make passionate love together and stay up late laughing in bed and rest our heads together snuggled up in the morning.
And he won't run away.
And he won't push me away.
And he'll let my love pour through him and fall back into my own eyes.
And that will be our truth.
And that will be all we'll ever need.
