Let me tell you about the one time, I was close to having a Valentine.
It all started on Instagram. Did you expect anything less? It’s a modern love story or rather a story about “love.” Anyways, I don’t like giving guys a chance if they shoot their shot in my DMs. I just don’t. But for him, I caved. I thought he was cute, so I gave him my number.
He was calm, cool, and collected. I am nothing of the sort. I thought he wanted to stick around because I was funny. I doubted his interest, attraction, or willingness to accept all of my shenanigans. But he liked it. He listened to me! He really listened to me and that turned me on more than anything he could’ve ever said or done. He remembered things about me that I couldn’t. Quite frankly, I thought it was too good to be true. And just like that, I found myself growing fond of him.
We spent eight months just “talking.” No dates. No sex. No kisses. No hugs. No hand-holding or walking through the park. I was envious of girls that had those things, but I consider myself more of a modern woman. We sent each other selfies, “good morning” and “goodnight” texts, and inside jokes we had created. I mean we talked every day.
He became a part of my daily routine. It was the most intimate but non-intimate situation I had ever been in.
I don’t plan on saving face, for the sake of you reading this. It’s funny, because this entire article is about a relationship that never solidified and feelings that were never expressed. He isn’t my ex-boyfriend and we never dated, which was fine by me. I am not keen on commitment or titles, but talking to him made me want those things. I was too scared to even approach the topic or he might’ve been too indifferent to ask. Yet, there we were.
Picture this: Valentine’s Day, 2019. Weeks prior, we had countless conversations about exchanging gifts and seeing each other. He told me that he had never celebrated it before either, so I thought I was in good company. I bought him something and wrote him a heartfelt note. I go to school in the same city he lived in, so I asked if we could meet up. He said yes. I had a class that day, so we planned to meet after it.
I was so excited that day, but he was taking forever to reply and being inconsistent, which was weird for him.
I noticed that he was posting on Snapchat, like everything was fine. Hours had passed and no reply. I waited and waited and waited.
I was on campus all day, just waiting on him. I cried through my drive on my way home. I got home and got a message from him that said, “I’m sorry. I’m here now.” I took a few minutes to breathe because prior to his apology, I had cussed him out. I waited a bit to reply. I tried to send him a message but it would not send.
A friend came over the next day. She had called me earlier and said she could hear in it my voice, that something was wrong. I explained it as best as I could, through tears and several anxiety attacks. She searched his name and showed me his posts. He was listening to music, driving, and enjoying himself. It had taken place within the twenty-four hour time period that he hadn’t replied to me. I thought something weird was going on because I couldn’t see any of it from my account.
She tried her hardest to let me down slowly. I couldn’t believe her when she said, “I think he blocked you.”
Why would he block me without an explanation? I would’ve never expected it from him. I kept reaching for my phone and checking my notifications because I hoped he’d sent me something. I couldn’t actually believe it. I had convinced myself that it was a misunderstanding or that I had done something to upset him, and he needed to cool off for a few days. I gave myself an ultimatum, that if he didn’t come back in six days, since Valentine’s Day, I would let him go.
I woke up to texts and calls from family and friends telling me, “Happy Birthday!” I heard from everyone except for him. So, on that sixth day, I allowed my heart to break completely. I thought there was no better way than to spend my birthday crying over some boy.
My friends had never heard about him. I couldn’t talk to them without explaining everything from the beginning. I am extremely guarded, so assume what you may about me. I didn’t want to discuss the details with anyone. It was complicated enough. I had a hard time understanding my emotions, so how could I explain it to other people?
It sucked though, because at the end of him and I, I literally had no one to talk to. That’s why I turned to God.
I’m not as close to God as I’d like to be. I didn’t know how to pray. I had to learn rather quickly, under such sad circumstances. So, I cried out to God for help; I cried out to God to hear me. I wasn’t sure what I was asking for. Maybe a sign, direction, or some “aha” moment. I asked for relief or clarity, so I could see this heartbreak through. But first, I needed the strength to understand. I kept asking, why me?
I had deleted and blocked his number and remaining social media accounts I’d followed, even though it didn’t make a difference. I never believed in closure, but I had never wanted it more than I did then. I didn’t want to accept that he left me with this ambiguous end. I created scenarios, in an effort to invalidate what I was feeling. I created a home out of that headspace, where I was overthinking and overanalyzing everything.
I spent the next three or four months being sad. I was carrying a broken heart, crushed spirit, and wounded ego. He ghosted me, and even worse, I had broken up with a few friends. I thought leaving town and transferring schools would be best. So, I started looking at applications to other schools. I had emailed one of my teachers and asked if she could write me a letter of recommendation. I met with her, and before I could explain myself, she had asked me to stay.
See. God works in mysterious ways. I asked for a sign but God sent me something better. Her words spoke directly to my heart. I heard and felt it in her voice, that that was the kind of love that could move mountains. I was broken but when she looked at me, she didn’t see the pieces or fragments. She saw me, at my best. She reminded me that I had too much to offer as a student, young woman, and scholar. Because of her, I chose to stay.
I chose to stay where I had my heart broken because I knew that I could mend my heart and myself again. I needed to let him go and learn to accept it for what it was. I had to stop fighting and fussing about it. And once I did, I began healing from the inside out. I felt it manifesting through my heart, body, soul, and spirit. It took months to resolve my issues and insecurities and to be willing to trust others or love again.
I wrote this embarrassingly long article to celebrate because it marks one year of me being ghosted. Yay! Truthfully, I’m glad that I can laugh about it now. Because I can write about it, knowing that I’m at peace. I’m not upset or angry at him. I don’t harbor those kinds of feelings in me. I’d be lying, if I said, I don’t think about him from time to time. I wonder if he’s OK or how he’s doing.
I still wish him the best. Because of him, I am not the same woman anymore. I’m better than ever. I thank him for that.
I used to be bitter over Valentine’s Day, but now not so much. Well, maybe a little bit. In any case, Happy Valentine’s Day!