Call It What You Want

by Alissa DeRogatis

No, we never dated. He’s not an ex-boyfriend. He’s an ex-almost. 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.

I was willing to do it whenever and wherever because I thought it would make him love me. I was desperate not to be alone. Spoiler alert: sex never makes someone love you.

Life got so much better when I stopped looking for love in every guy I met.

I didn’t know what to call it, what was happening between us. Whatever it was though, I liked it.

That moment was my undoing. Ethan Brady had me and he knew it. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, he was holding my bare heart in his hands.

We were lying in the same bed, but it felt like we were hundreds of miles apart.

You can’t love someone into changing—you shouldn’t have to. I knew that. So why didn’t I believe it?

If I knew loving him would have hurt this badly, I would’ve never laid my eyes on him.

I had to stop putting my life on pause for someone who was no longer a part of it.

I didn’t care that I was settling for a fraction of a relationship with him when I knew I deserved so much more. I was willing to settle for whatever he would give me, because a fraction of him was better than nothing at all.

“Come on. Do you hear yourself? A relationship isn’t supposed to be this hard. Sure, every couple has arguments and makes compromises but the lead-up shouldn’t be this long. He should know what he wants, and if he doesn’t, maybe that should be a sign that it’s not you.”

you need to stop losing your mind over someone who doesn’t mind losing you.”

I took a seat next to Ethan, and he squeezed my thigh. I was so glad I came back. I loved how it felt when he showed me the slightest bit of attention.

That night I realized that losing someone doesn’t necessarily mean losing. Every time someone walks out of your life, someone new eventually walks into it. Losing someone means you’ll eventually gain someone even better.

“I think that maybe I would always let you come back,” I confess. “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’ll never regret him.

I’m not him. No one can compete with a ghost, Sloane. You chase after a guy who’s never certain about you, while I stand here seeing you, wanting you, choosing you, and you don’t even care.”

Sometimes loving him feels like I’m lingering in the doorway of his bedroom, waiting for him to let me in.

Will we ever be more than an almost?

Loving him is hard, but leaving would be harder.

“Some love stories aren’t epic novels. Some are short stories, but that doesn’t make them any less filled with love,” Carrie says.

For the next few seconds, I uncontrollably smile at the message and forget that he’s the reason why I’m spending a holiday all alone.

You can’t beg someone to love you, as much as I wish you can, you can’t. You shouldn’t have to convince someone that you’re good enough or you’re worth it. That’s something I’m still learning.

“I just need you to know that you can’t do this to me anymore. There’s no going back after tonight. I can’t keep doing this to myself. I love you so much that it hurts. It’s made me physically ill on more than one occasion. Love shouldn’t hurt. Love shouldn’t make you sick. I know that you’re not ready, and nothing I can say or do will ever change that. The only person that can change that is you. I would’ve done anything for you—”

Three breakups, two years, and one really broken heart.

I pull my headphones out of my pocket, plug them into my phone, and scroll Spotify to find a solid breakup playlist, filled with just the right amount of Taylor Swift.

What if I never get over him? What if I go to bed and wake up every day for the rest of my life wanting him? What if I keep waiting for a call or a text or a sign that never comes?

First loves are funny like that. They’re the ones that introduce you to everything and teach you how to love, in the same way that they teach you how to hurt and how to heal. No matter how hurt you are though, you’ll never hate them, and depending on who you ask, in ways you’ll still love them. I’d like to think that I taught him the meaning of unconditional love, while he taught me how to love myself.

I can thrive on my own, and these boxes and this apartment are a reminder that I already am.

I think back to who I was in December—it seems like such a long-lost version of myself, someone I don’t know anymore. Losing Ethan made me realize that I wasn’t mourning the memories of him. I mourned the idea of him that I created. I mourned the future I built in my head using our best moments. I mourned the potential I saw in him, and the life that I saw for us.

The most important thing that I’ve learned over the last six months is that you need to show up for yourself.

If you feel like you lost yourself in a past (or even present) relationship, spend time getting to know who you are. Find new hobbies or fall back in love with old ones. Mine are reading and therapy. Both have been reminders of how beautiful, sometimes sad but mostly beautiful, life is.

He taught me how to love myself the way he never could.

Here’s the thing about unconditional love though—it isn’t one-sided. It isn’t standing in someone’s doorway begging to be let in. It isn’t taking your heart out of your chest, bloody and beating, and handing it to someone to do whatever they want with it. Unconditional love is someone breaking down the cage of your ribs to get your heart and you trusting they’ll protect it just the same.

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.

What we had wasn’t something I could ever put into words. It was just us. Call it what you want, but for me it was love.

I wrote Call It What You Want for anyone who’s ever been in an almost relationship but also for a younger version of myself who I still grieve occasionally. I wish I could hug her and tell her she deserves so much more than an almost.

I wanted readers to understand that just because a relationship doesn’t have a label or a title doesn’t mean what they experienced wasn’t love.

Your worth shouldn’t have to depend on another person,

I want people to understand that heartbreak is just as valid when it happens over someone you weren’t dating.

Call It What You Want is her debut novel and a love letter to anyone who has had a hard time getting over someone they never dated.