if you like something...

Upon reflection, it was something.

I knew it in the way I felt. I know it in the way I feel. Feelings are very real things, and they are always to be respected, if not trusted. The heart knows what's important. Mine always has.

Lately, it's been telling me that the post-city arrangement of "seeing other people" was a miserable idea. At first, it had nearly made sense to me. We had been moving too quickly into something we had rushed to define. He had said the forbidden word in a moment of drunken confusion or clarity; I'll never know which. That's what really happens when you get caught between the moon and New York City and one Smirnoff Ice too many-- you say all the things you didn't really mean to say.

It had scared him off, quite simply. I had tried to be passive while he sorted things out-- giving him space for weeks-- figuring that, if he was really interested, if this was really what he wanted, he would realize it. If he wanted to talk to me, he would initiate the conversation. If he wanted to see me, he would say so. It made for an unfair balance of power-- I was too accommodating, too readily available, just pathetically happy to see him. The messages were too few and far-between, and a single phrase resonated through my mind-- if you like something, set it free.

At first, I liked him too much to give up seeing him, but I came to realize that I liked him too much to simply be a choice, to be one of the girls he was seeing. An afterthought. For a good time, call. Today, I liked myself enough to simplify things for us both. 

We sat in a Chili's, my downward gaze and pursed lips an unmistakable giveaway that something was wrong. He apologized for being late, and I nodded, my lips tight, my eyes on the table. We made easy, comfortable conversation-- it's always flowed effortlessly. I warmed up a little. Don't look at his eyes, I thought. His green, green eyes. But they caught me. They always have.

Eventually, I spoke. "I can't help but feel that, if you really did like me, you wouldn't feel the need to date anyone else. I feel like I'm being comparison shopped." My words came out quickly. They'd been waiting on my tongue for too long. "It's like, given a choice of 31 flavors... when I find one I really like, I splurge for the cone."

"I really like you. I don't want you to feel like that, but that's just not where I am right now. I've always entered into relationships quickly-- within a few weeks of getting to know someone. I want to be able to meet people before I commit. When we leave here today, this isn't going to change how I feel."

"I'm not giving you an ultimatum," I said. "I hate ultimatums. I'm just telling you how I feel."

I flashed back, for a moment, to him telling me in earlier conversations about the space that he needed, but that he didn't want to lose me. But, in this moment, I realized: I was never his.

I have a lot to offer. I'm kind, and endlessly loving. I'm generous, and passionate, and bright. I know that I can be a great many things to a prospective partner. But second place will never be one of them.