Call It What You Want

by Alissa DeRogatis

In an instant, the memory of last night’s events floods back and I feel the agony coursing through my veins all over again.

The pain still lingers. I remember how much it hurt just to look at him.

Each time I looked at him, the wound was reopened, the pain as fresh and raw as the first time.

I’ve loved him for over two years. How could he end two years with four words? I can’t do this.

I think the worst part is realizing that somewhere, deep down, I knew it the entire time. I knew he wouldn’t be able to get where I wanted him to. I just hoped that I was wrong.

Maybe that’s all we’d ever be— an incomplete sentence or a book that someone put down halfway through and never picked back up. Finished without an ending.

How can two people go from not being able to get enough of each other to never wanting to speak again?

She had never been super confident in herself, but she was beautiful. She just hadn’t heard that from anyone, besides her parents of course.

I didn’t want to admit to anyone, even myself, that I had feelings for him. I wasn’t letting myself fall for anyone during one of the most pivotal years of my life.

I remember how much the end hurt; at the time I thought I was going to die. Eventually, the pain became so distant that if I hadn’t written about it, I would’ve forgotten it ever happened.

They hadn’t even been dating six months and were already planning vacations together; meanwhile most days I wondered if Ethan felt the same way about me as I did about him.

And just like that, the conversation was over. I got a half-assed apology and still had no idea where we stood.

How was I so easily able to fall in love with someone who wasn’t sure about me?

I didn’t want him to think that I was moving on that quickly or even at all. I just wanted him back.

I was willing to settle for whatever he would give me because a fraction of him was better than nothing at all.

To me, we were very much in love. The most in love I’ve ever been. But to him? Well, I didn’t really know how he felt. All I knew was what his body language told me and what I felt.

Long distance? We couldn’t even have a functional relationship when we lived a hundred feet away from each other. How were we going to make 600 miles work?

I’d do almost anything to please him. I wanted to make him realize that I was more than enough.

I saved the photo and never posted it. At that point, I didn’t want to. Why did he have to be like that? Was he trying to hide that he was visiting me? Was he trying to hide me?

You can’t keep choosing someone who doesn’t choose you.”

No ‘good morning’ text. No ‘I’m sorry I fucked up’ voicemail. Nothing. That was your new reality.

I finally started to feel at peace with the fact that Ethan and I were never meant to last. It hurt, but it was true.

Reese is like no one I’ve ever met. He’s attentive, always makes plans for us and he’s great at communicating. Almost too good at it. Reese is the opposite of Ethan.

Doormen are one of my favorite things about the city— they make me feel safe like I’m coming home from a date to my dad waiting up for me on the couch.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve said something. I didn’t want to open this up again and make it a whole thing.”

“You’re never going to forget him. A part of you will always love him. One day you’ll find yourself searching for someone who reminds you of the best parts of him. You might never fully get over him, but you’re going to be okay.”

“I know. The sad part is, as much as I tried, I couldn’t hate you. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to hate you.”

“What did you expect from me? You broke up with me in a text and I never heard from you again. Did you think I’d wait for you to just call or something?”

I’m in love with someone who can’t love me back and has told me that more times than I can count. Reese is sure about me. His feelings for me have never wavered and that’s all I’ve ever wanted. So why can’t it be enough?

room. I think I could love him. We get into bed together and even though his body is inches from mine, I feel hundreds of miles away.

Coffee shops and restaurants we love, corners we’ve kissed on, crosswalks we’ve held hands at. Is this the end of us? If it is, I deserve it, I guess.

How is it that he’s still such a prominent part of memories that I’m not even making with him?

This wasn’t how we were supposed to be. I was supposed to be flying home to him while we were figuring out long distance. Instead, I was consuming him through old memories.

“I think that maybe I would always let you come back,” I say softly. “Not that I would sit around waiting for you, but if you told me that you were ready and wanted me back, I’m not sure there’s anything that I wouldn’t drop for you.”

I reply, knowing that if someone told 21-year-old me how things with Ethan would’ve played out, I still would’ve done everything the same. I’ll never regret him.

“Did you break up with him because of me?” Ethan asks. “No.” I don’t hesitate. “I just knew he wasn’t it for me. But if I’m being honest, I don’t know that anyone will ever live up to you.”

Maybe that’s how I made it seem, but my relationship with Reese was so one-sided. I knew he loved me, and I strung him along because it felt good to feel like someone’s everything. He was never my everything though,”

Finally. He’s choosing me.

Ethan probably doesn’t even realize how fucked up it is that he left me here. But it is. It’s really fucked up.

I sit on the edge of my bed and stare at the lock screen on my phone. Six days. It’s been almost a week of being left on delivered, not even on read. Which is even more frustrating considering I know he’s read it.

“Ethan’s been ignoring me for almost a week now.” “A week? Why didn’t you say something sooner?” “Because I’m embarrassed. It’s happening again— I’m losing him, and I have absolutely no control over it. How am I back here? Why didn’t I learn?

Is this what our life would be like— that future I’ve been dreaming of— would it be bad communication, half-assed promises and awkward silences? I’d like to think our relationship would be different once he’s ready to put in the effort and fully commit.

I don’t want to spend the rest of my life thinking “Is this my great love story?” because I want more. I deserve more. I don’t want calls that go unanswered or texts that are never read. I don’t want to spend holidays, or any day, begging someone to choose me. I deserve someone who chooses me without question. Someone who loves me without doubt. I want someone who shows up and I realize that my relationship with Ethan isn’t any of those things. It likely never will be. Maybe this really is the end.

I always believed that we would find our way back to each other every time, but this time it feels final, like I’ll never see him again. Or if I do, it’ll be different. I know it in my bones; this is it.

One day he’s going to wake up and realize that he lost the best thing he ever had. He lost the only person who would’ve loved him through anything. I hope he hurts. I hope he regrets. But even more importantly, I hope he learns.

Blake is my meantime guy. He’s good for now but not forever.

Instead, we both exist in the same room and act as though we’re strangers now. A polite smile is the only moment we share. No small talk or asking how each other has been because it hurts too much to know. It hurts too much to go back there again. I know he feels it too.

This isn’t one of those beautiful love stories where they get back together in the end. This is one of those stories where the hurt and the confusion consumes them. It’s one of those stories where the person who is in pain gets up, brushes themselves off and realizes their worth.

Call it what you want, but for me, it was love.