Rejection hurts, but it can also make you stronger.
She told me she was getting more attracted to me and I told her the same. Part of me wanted to just kiss her right then. But we were at work and she was still in a relationship, so I suppose it was better that I didn’t.
We talked about starting a business together, travelling together, even a “life” together.
I was excited. I’d never met someone like her. Someone driven, someone who wanted more, someone who really understood me. I could feel myself being more and more drawn to her.
She was still with her partner, but she told me it was ending, and I believed her. I believed her because I wanted it to end because then we could be together, and we could finally do all of these things we were talking about.
Weeks went by without her ending it and I started to panic. What was going on? She was going to end it soon, surely. But why hadn’t she ended it already?
She was more distant at work. She was more distant about us working on a business together, and travelling, and having any kind of life together at all.
I didn’t ask her why. I didn’t dare ask her. Because what if I got an answer I didn’t want? What if she … no. I didn’t even want to go anywhere near there.
So, instead, I sulked. And I got pissed off with her. And I avoided talking about the one thing I desperately wanted to talk about.
I did this for months. Every day I’d come to work, and I’d have unhappy moments, and it was all because of this. Because I refused to confront it. Because I refused to move beyond it.
I only realized I’d had enough of doing this when I came home from work and just started crying. Well, more than crying. Sobbing. I was so upset, in so much pain. I was hurting.
I had to do something. I couldn’t live like this. I wouldn’t live like this.
I told her.
I told her everything.
I told her how much I liked her. I told her that I’d cried over her. I told her that I’d even told my parents about her … how I’d actually said these words: “she might be the one.”
She texted me back quickly.
She told me she didn’t want to stop being “friends.”
Well … I had my answer.
What a relief.
It hurt. Of course, it hurt. I wanted her, and I cared about her, and I’d told my parents about her being the one … and she’d rejected me.
But when she told me she didn’t want to stop being friends … I realized how intensely I’d been holding on to her. Well, not even her. The hope of her.
I realized how much longer ago I could’ve let this go.
I realized how much I’d been wanting someone who didn’t even want me.
Is that what I thought I deserved? Did I think I deserved to want someone who didn’t even want me?
It was obvious she hadn’t wanted me because she’d stayed in her relationship and because there were no signs of her ending the relationship … and I’d only finally let myself believe that when I told her everything and she rejected me.
I’d been putting myself through all this pain because I wanted someone who didn’t even want me.
I managed a smile.
Because there was no way I’d be doing that again.
“I’m more than that,” I thought.