Dear ______,

I want to preface this by saying that there are two sides to this story, I know. Your side I will probably never know for sure, but I can make a pretty good guess. The timing was off. It wasn’t convenient. You were stuck halfway between your old girlfriend and a new one. You had never really been on your own, and you were trying to piece your new identity together. Unfortunately, I was an unnecessary casualty to that journey. You didn’t know who you were or what you wanted, and I let myself stick around to see if you’d figure it out.

In the beginning, it was great. How did I get so lucky, I thought, to have someone want to talk with me every moment of his stolen time and say I put a smile on his face with a simple text? I was funny, beautiful, and smart, you said. And you were just as sweet when we went out. I felt comfortable around you. The conversation came easy. The chemistry was natural, and by the way you talked, we were headed straight for the scary “r” word: a relationship.

Then, things got a little too real for you, I think. I understand – I really do. Things moving forward would’ve meant planning weekends, switching priorities, lots of gas money and commitment. Trust me, I get it. I just wish it had been laid out clearly. It was only when the texts trickled from a river to a drop and I had to ask, that the truth came out.

And if it had ended there … that would have been fine. Guy and girl, a couple of dates, not enough time, the end. NBD.

But then, you came back. A text after my birthday asking to meet up after spring break. Spring break came, went – nothing. You started liking my social media posts again, throwing little breadcrumbs in my direction to let me know you were there. Just not fully. I tried Snapchatting, but came up empty-handed. You were a ghost I couldn’t pin down.

I threw you one last chance. I didn’t expect much. I was testing you; maybe that was wrong. I just sent a simple “Hey, how’s life?”

You responded with the old you. The you that seemingly knew what you wanted, which at least that particular night, was me. You said you would come by next weekend; you said this time you hoped it would work out.

Two days later, you blocked me on Instagram. No text, no explanation. And when I finally asked, again, what was going on - you gave me a curt reply: sorry. got other stuff to take care of.

Clearly that “other stuff” to take care of wasn’t my feelings.

Next time, _____, be honest. Not just with whichever girl you are speaking to, but with yourself. It is okay to be confused, to not know what you want, but admit it. The whole hot-and-cold thing, master of mixed signals, isn’t fun for anyone – especially not the one left being burned or frozen by the temperature change.

I wish you the best. I truly do believe you are a good guy, and I have no doubt you’ll figure it all out eventually. But after three months – almost an entire semester – of being ghosted and breadcrumbed, I am done. I may not have everything 100% figured out, but I do know what I want from a guy - and waiting around for him to decide if he does or doesn’t want me isn’t it.

- M