He Loves Me, He Definitely Loves Me Not

It was Wednesday morning and we were lying in bed trying to savor the last few minutes before we had to get up and go to work. Here’s my chance. It was the perfect opportunity.

I had this vision of what it would be like when I told him. We would be lying in bed just like this. I would give him my over dramatic schpeel which I remembered word for word because I practiced it for two weeks.

I looked up at him and said, “before I hop in the shower I just want to let you know that I think I’m falling in love with you. Don’t say anything because whatever you say will just sound forced. I understand that you may not feel the same way and that’s okay with me.”

Silence.

He gives me an uneasy smile. I looked at him quizzically and…Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Well, this isn’t awkward. Not exactly how I imagined it. Okay, so I lied. I lied big time. Of course it wouldn’t be okay with me. In a perfect world, if you tell someone you love them, they say it back, and the hard part is over. Then you can stroll through the daisies hand in hand singing “tra-la-la” waning through the rest of your relationship.

“I’m going to take a shower now,” I retorted as I jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, anything to get away from that regretful, humiliating moment.

After I came out of the shower everything went back to normal as if nothing had been said. Was I not clear? Was I mumbling? Did he not hear me or did he have selective hearing (like I do when he’s normally talking to me about almost everything)?

You don’t come across feelings like these too often, especially when you feel them for someone first. I have never been the first one to say “love.” I was always used to having the guy say it before I did. Routinely, I’ve said it back and either grown to love him or mutually felt the same way but wouldn’t realize my feelings for him until he said it first. What makes this guy any different?

His name was Tyghe. We met at a bar called Tonic. It was your typical sports bar with plasma screens plastered from wall to wall and dudes crawling all over the place. Tyghe was dressed in a dark, sharp suit. He had freckles all over his face and an inviting smile. I was intoxicated, 3 vodka pineapples and 1 tequila shot later, yet still charming. Tyghe rebounded me at the worst possible stage of my life. I just came out of a bad (and when I say bad, I mean titanic-ship-sinking bad) break up and at that point anyone would have made due. Worse, I was vulnerable and untrusting. I vowed never to trust another penis again. A couple of weeks later I found myself in Tyghe’s bed, tangled up in his sheets having one of those all-nighter conversations. I know. It didn’t take long but like I said I was vulnerable.

Tyghe revealed all his personal baggage in one night, no holding back. Any sane person would have been running scared. I probed him about his past relationships, ex-girlfriends, and his sex life. Who would want to know about the last person that slept in his bed or why it didn’t work out with his last girlfriend? I did. I wanted to know everything and he had no problem sharing. He was honest, open, and kind. It was just what I needed- sex and comfort. He wasn’t afraid to open up to me and I admired that about him. It wasn’t love at first sight but it was close enough.

I never thought I would find myself in another relationship so soon but here I was. Again. Soon enough we were calling each other every night, holding hands, and having weekday sleepovers. Even though I wasn’t ready to trust Tyghe completely I felt comfortable enough to share a piece of myself with him.

Then it happened. I was in love.

That morning when he didn’t say it back I was crushed. I was back at square one after my last break up- vulnerable and untrusting. I did say I would have understood if he didn’t feel the same way but that was a lie. But would I believe him if he said it back? Probably not. I knew that this could’ve been a possibility. I just didn’t think it was likely to happen. So what did I do? I told myself to give him a week tops, to say it back, and if he didn’t, I was going to give him the “it’s not me, it’s definitely you” excuse.

Oh, and a week later he told me he loved me.

Elysia is 23 years old and resides on the Upper East Side. She’s easily seduced by sushi and lip gloss of all assortments. Her passions are all things Buffy the Vampire Slayer, step aerobics, astrology, and boys with blazers. She’ll peak your curiousity about sex, love and relationships for the those who are fixated on the issues as much as she is.