I don’t know how to end this post.
A week after our first hang out, Mariel told me that Allen broke up with his girlfriend of 4 years. They were all teasing us together and I acted like it was not a big deal. But deep inside I wondered if I was the reason behind their break up. I didn’t want to assume because I didn’t want to feel guilty about it.
But, soon after that, I couldn’t dismiss those hints anymore. He started getting close to me – wanting to spend time with me, helping me with stuff, calling me often. I was overwhelmed with the attention he was giving me. I asked him if that’s just the way he is with his friends or if it’s something more.
It was something more, he said.
I ran away from him, leaving him dumbfounded in front of our building. What was that feeling? It was burning my throat, choking me to death, making it hard for me to breathe. I felt so disappointed with what he did. He killed my faint hope that even with a small number of couples, love really lasts. I admired him and his girlfriend for making it that far. 4 years. And all my life I hated those people who ruin relationships. Now, it was me. I ruined them. I ended theirs. Was I being unintentionally hypocritical?
I still couldn’t figure out how to respond to this kind of situation. I still haven’t talked to him. I couldn’t just runaway from him. It would be so unfair and childish. Right now, I’m still sorting out my feelings. I’m still feeling guilty for what happened. I don’t know. Do I always have to end up in awkward situations? Ugh.