That Guy

**This one is a little longer today...trying to make up for my lack of blogging this week, but also-this story cannot be told in two paragraphs or less. So read when you have time. -B

There was a guy in college, a guy who I couldn't ever break myself out of his orbit. He'd be nearby and I'd just know it. He was that guy. The one I could never say no to, could never cheat on, lie to, run from, abstain from. Ugh. For years, he drained my everything. A tornado, he'd come into my life and tear it all to shreds. And you'd never even know he was coming, he'd sneak up, on an assuming, happy me, and before I knew it, he'd wreck shop.

One year, he called out of the blue, post college, post me having learned some valuable lessons about him, and left a message on my voicemail. Hey, it's C. I've been thinking about you like crazy. A lot's been going on and the thing is...well, just call me back please. I have something important to tell you. My interest was piqued. I sat and went through the possibilities with Maria. We ran the gambit: what could he possibly want? What more needs to happen between us? We decided I was going to return the call, if anything just because there was no way I could ignore it. When I called back, he went on and on about how he couldn't stop thinking about me, could barely work, sleep, etc. without me popping into his mind. He said he'd googled me, kept up with my writing career. Had read my articles, every one, was proud of me. Then he stopped. I asked him what was wrong. The things is...um, B, I think I'm in love with you. I think I always have been.

Boom.

Pow.

Zoink.

For all the drama we'd inflicted on each others lives, not once had he ever told me he loved me. Nor had I said it to him, but it was something I longed for like crazy. You don't have that kind of connection with someone and not feel it. Our paths were crossed from the start, long before I was B, long before he was C, long before we came on campus, long before we knew who the other was let alone knew ourselves. Of course, I loved him. I just assumed he didn't love me. But he was telling me he did now, did then, did period.

We talked a while longer, about any and everything. Trying to hash out if we could possibly start over, do it right, better than before. He still lived in Miami, I was in New York City. I was still involved with my boyfriend at the time. Ties had to be cut, plans had to be made. We never made a concrete plan, which should have been my first sign, but we said we'd talk later that night. We did. We talked several times the next day as well, and the day after that, and the ones that followed. We started figuring out when I'd fly there, when he'd come to me. It seemed like our time had finally come. One day, he called saying someone had broken into his car, stripped it, stole all his belongings. He was super bummed as he waited on the police. When they arrived, he said he'd call me back.

He didn't.

I called the next day and was given the catch up rundown. Something felt off-that woman's intuition was in full force: ears docked, antenna up. I asked if he was OK, he said he was, just pissed about his car. Said he'd call me back. The day wore on. He didn't call back. The next day, I called and asked him what was going on, were we still doing the Miami visit at the end of the month. He immediately started saying he wasn't sure, and when I called him on it he jumped on the defense, claiming he'd never said it was a definite. This was the C I knew. The old one was back, had never really left. It had only been a matter of time. When I hung up the phone, I knew we were done, yet again. I had stopped my world, created a little door, and let him in only to end up with the door slammed in my face. Again. When would I ever learn?

We had a few more rounds in the ring, never as deep, me never letting my guard down completely, until one day I heard he was getting married. I found it funny because C was still calling me, still being inappropriate at times, still acting single. He never mentioned he was engaged. He did mention that he and his live-in girlfriend were having problems, they were in counseling, it was only a matter of time before he said forget it. Not that I cared, but he apparently did-enough to make sure I knew they "weren't happy." Apparently, he also thought I was an idiot. And he married her. But before he walked down the aisle, before he vowed to love her forever, before he exchanged rings of eternity, he left a voicemail on my phone.

Hey, it's C. I never can shake you from my head. What is it about us? What is it about you? God, B, I still love you. I think I always will. Um, call me? Ok, bye.

I deleted him from my phone after that and if there was a blocking mechanism, I'd do that too. For perhaps the first time, I see C for who he is. A sad excuse for a coward. On his best day, he's still making excuses and living life in a cage he put around himself. I'm glad it never worked out between us, glad I'm not the wife he cheats on, waiting at home, thinking he's my prince. I'm glad he's just that guy. 'Cause we all know, no one ever ends up with that guy. They end up with the right guy.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins