It's been eight weeks.
You're wrapped up in the stained blanket he stole from his roommate. He's in the kitchen, microwaving some bagel bites, catching up with Nathan, as you lay there, staring at the ceiling.
You're craving a glass of water, not pondering his return. All is well — snuggled under the covers with an episode of Friends mumbling in the background.
At this point, you've become familiarized with the Odesza poster poorly taped to the wall and the L shaped scar on his shoulder. You know his friends — or bros as he likes to call them.
They offer you chicken wings from the fridge and surprise you with "What's up!" as you're heading to the gym. There is nothing wrong with this situation.
You are willingly an accessory to his douchebag lifestyle, as he is to yours.
But, nothing this simple can ever last. You'll leave a thong in his bed and he'll ask what you did over Thanksgiving. When your uber arrives, friends assume your destination — no questions asked.
The routine: 10pm text, 1am hookup, 3am deep talks with Spotify jam sessions becomes all too familiar.
You are friends who like to get naked on a regular basis; the arrangement functions its purpose.
However, things will end, and most likely, it will end in tears and a bottle of cheap wine. It will be a Thursday afternoon and you'll receive a text or perhaps a phone call, if he's feeling generous.
This is how it goes:
"Sorry, you're a really cool girl…"
Your heart races because you know exactly what is coming next.
"I'm just not looking for anything serious"
You drop to the floor, humiliated. You want to respond back aggressively.
"Well, I wasn't looking for anything serious either, you asshole"
Thank God, you have the kind roommate who prevents you from exposing your inner psycho girl. You respond politely, trying to seem as unaffected as possible.
But in reality, you're stuffing your face with nutella as tears trickle down your cheeks. He was never anything more than a nighttime playmate to you. Yet, you can't help but feel nauseous, after being dumped by your hookup buddy.
This is a major blow to your ego.
He can go on to the next girl, with the satisfaction of thinking you were madly in love with him. While this may have not been the case, he's not a good guy if you can't already tell.
He likes you enough to walk you downstairs, but he's not telling his mom about you. Maybe he's calling it quits because he wants to DM that Brazillian in his chem class without feeling any shame. Ultimately, he's afraid of limiting his options, while making it seem as though he's protecting you from his douchebag ways.
What's frustrating about this situation are his assumptions. Girls aren't always looking for their Prince Charming to sweep them off their feet and settle down in suburbia.
You're investing in yourself, applying for internships and grinding in the library most nights of the week. Or maybe, you've just come out of a relationship. The wounds are too fresh, and you're not looking to be someone's "baby".
In theory, this relationship that was never a relationship could have worked because you guys both were on the same page. However, from experience, it's for the best that it didn't. The "not that invested card" is a disclaimer that he is a jerk.
Do yourself a favor, and move on.