But, where would I be now had that moment changed? Would I still be in Brooklyn, working 95 hours a week and miserable?
I have often wondered what would have happened if you had said "it's not true," "I love you," or "don't go" when I stood to walk away that August morning on Carps hill. What would have happened had you known your needs or been able to communicate with me as you recently posted and then took down?
But where would I be now had that moment not resulted in me crying and clutching my stomach with the physical pain that realization manifested on a sunny August Sunday before days of rain?
I have often wondered what would have happened had I fallen in love with you during those care free chicago summer days and nights? What would it have been like had you been a top or been truly interested in me instead of a sweet summer fling?
But where would I be now had I not left chicago to continue that crazy summer of semi-attached numb love? Who would I have texted desperately from my tent while crying the ugly cry quietly and alone?
I have often wondered what would have happened had I said no on that December evening of emailing when you asked if perhaps too much had happened so perhaps I wouldn't want to meet up about did I want kids and all the other bullshit you placed as a facade on our failed not-quite-romance. What if I had said no and continued on with my sweet potentials?
But where would I be now had I fallen for her sweet smile despite her fear of missing out and desire not to really go there with someone so young? Someone so stupid?
Because that is where I am now. Still sort of young, but not quite young enough to be this pathetically single; still sort of stupid, but not stupid enough that someone could love me, despite all the "your intelligence is such a turn on" comments followed by patriarchy veiled in flirting in the form of "damn I bet you look hot while teaching...."
Here I am now, dealing with the aftermath of your sabotage of my dating life; paranoid and afraid, unable to even recognize trauma at its finest.
Here I am now, still dating butch after butch who uses sweet words to pretend she is really into me, but ends up choosing someone else within weeks or months. Here I am, the catalyst for change for all of my lovers. My success rate is so high, I should start a matchmaking service. Date me. Find your true love 6 months later.
Here I am in this love-hate relationship with life. 11 months dry. Still so close to you, so close you could just appear with flowers and actual love as in my pathetic dreams; still unable to stand another's hand upon me; still wishing I did not feel like you mean more to me than anyone else I have ever loved; Infinitely grateful for these what if moments. Alone. Alive. Awkward. And... Still here.