I bet you don’t think about the moment I broke your heart nearly as much as I do, but I know you haven’t forgotten about it. Even though it’s been years—four to be exact, I never had the chance to explain to you why I said “no” when you asked me out. So I’m taking the chance to explain now.
I’ll start from the beginning because our history is important to our story. We have been friends since we were children. Once I asked you what your first memory was and you texted, “holding your hand” and I smiled at the screen on my phone. Our families have been friends since then, too; our mothers go out to dinner once a month to keep in touch, and our sisters are best friends.
We had been texting for months those four years ago and I waited, I want you to know that I did wait, for you to mention something about a date. But nothing ever came. You never made a move and I was shy. I wasn’t sure you liked me and eventually convinced myself it was impossible. I thought I was friend-zoned. But we still texted and when you asked me to hangout, I truly thought we were just buddies. I came over and you had a few friends with you, proof that we were just friends. But later that night I realized you liked me, that was when it clicked for me. It honestly took me by surprise.
As the night went on, I tried to keep my distance from you and prayed you would not make a move on me. But you did. I want you to know it broke my heart when I told you no, to see you hurt, to see our friendship breaking in front of my eyes. The moment you expressed your feelings to me, I thought that maybe I could, maybe I could give this a try. But I am a practical person and you tend to go with what your heart tells you. All the different factors started to swarm my mind and I realized the difficulties that would ultimately break us: our families, our sisters, our friendship, my work and your sport’s schedule. It was clear to me that we would never see each other and that this spark in front of me would die before it had the chance to burn. It simply did not make sense. So I said no. And I went home and cried.However, I told myself and you, too, that when we were older we could try this possible romance out.
Yet we stopped talking. Completely. You did not talk to me for two years, two fucking years, and I am still angry with you for that. There were times that I needed you and you were not there. You had no excuse and still have no excuse for it because you were fully aware of how my crumbling life. After all, our families are close, our sisters are friends, and you and I were once best friends. Maybe I should have reached out, but I was so sure you hated me and I did not want a confirmation.
So out of the blue, two years later, I got a message from you asking me if we could catch up. We started to talk more and more, purely on a friendship basis. It made me happy because you were in my life again and I missed you. We hung out when we could and for a moment I thought I saw something developing, but that made me distance myself from you instead of bring me closer. Once again I told myself that when we were older and out of college, once we had our lives somewhat put together, we could try this. So I decided this plan by myself because I’m practical, a planner, and you are the one with the big heart. I was selfish and never asked you what you thought of the blueprint I saw for our future. I am sorry about that. I need you to understand that I was scared about what you would say, frightened you would laugh at the idea, but even more, I was petrified you would look me in the eyes and say “okay”. I am still scared.
Summer ended and we both went back to school. I expected our friendship to be a lot like it was the year before: talking on the phone, texting a lot; but it wasn’t, it still isn’t. We don’t talk. I don’t hear from you. I reach out and there is no response. It reminds me of when we were sixteen, except this time I am not sure what I did wrong, if I did anything wrong. I’ve learned you have a girlfriend and I wonder if this influences your decision on not reaching out. I wonder what you told her about me—if you told her about me, and what her opinion is.
This silence between us is breaking me. So I am starting to resent you. In fact, I’m pissed. I cannot believe you are letting the past repeat itself. This time the silence is not caused by me, not my screw up, this time it’s on you. You have nothing to pin on me. And honestly, I don’t care about your reasons, not two flying fucks.
You’ve never asked for an explanation on that night so I’ve never given you one and I am too much of a coward to bring the topic up myself. You probably never will ask for a reason. I don’t know how I feel about that. One part of me yearns to discuss it with you, to make you understand. You probably will never read this letter, but by chance you do, I hope this gives you some sort of insight to my madness. Maybe if you read this you’ll even call me again so we can talk about it.
But until then, fuck you.