Today - at exactly this time, 12:57am - marks two years since I met H.
We met on MySpace. How embarrassing is that? But it's true. He found my profile, liked my picture, and sent me a message. I'm not going to share it here. It's private. But I still have it. He said I was quite cute. No one had ever said that to me before.
He said lots of nice things to me. We had great conversations. We talked about baseball and zombies and politics and television. He told me that I was witty. That my eyes were striking. That he liked my hair. Such lovely flattery for a girl starved of that sort of thing. How could I resist? I couldn't. He paid attention to me. I was in love.
I'd gotten messages from strange men before on MySpace. I wonder sometimes, why H? Why did I decide to respond to his message when I'd never responded to one before? What was it about him that drew me to him, that made me want to get to know him? Why did I decide I needed to meet him in person? What in his messages made me want more? Made me want him?
Sometimes I wish I could go back and keep myself from signing up for MySpace. Or keep myself from writing back, from engaging H in conversation. Keep myself from agreeing to meet him, from kissing him. Keep myself from hanging out with him more than once. Keep myself from going to his apartment ...
Wishes accomplish nothing. Wondering doesn't change anything. And yet I wonder. And I remember. I miss him a little. And I cry.
Happy 2-year anniversary, H.