The One Who Got Away But Was Never Really Yours To Begin With


Periods. Bad hair days. Drunk crying sessions. Unnecessary spending sprees at Target. Fights with inanimate electrical objects. All things we, as modern, empowered, 21st century women, have at some point in our lives. They’re difficult to deal with, frustrating, and usually involve a fuck ton of unnecessary pain or regret. But beyond all of these, there’s only one that takes the #1 seat. He’s the ghost of your past, the mirage of your present, and vision of your future. He’s the ultimate unavoidable evil. Who is he? He’s the one who got away…but was never really yours to begin with.

He was the one that understood you in a way no one else ever did, and you were sure no one else ever would. Your entire relationship was a series of amazing little moments. These incredible snapshots in time where everything was perfect. The moment you met, the moment you decided to sleep with him, the moment you realized he loved you, the moment you realized he was never going to say it out loud. You can name the exact date, place, and time of all your firsts without even flinching. As if they’re written in a scrapbook of your relationship with the caption: “This. This is me truly happy.”

The problem was that he was always just slightly out of grasp. Because he was never really yours. He was always teetering between you and the other option. And he’d blame the other option as if it were something he actually wanted to run away from. He’d blame distance and say, “I wish we didn’t live so far apart because I constantly think about ‘what ifs’.” He’d blame the other woman and say, “I wish I wasn’t in this loveless relationship because I want to be with you forever.” He’d blame age and say, “I wish I would have met you sooner because you’re the total package.” And worst of all, he’d blame himself and say, “I wish I was ready for such a large commitment. Because you’re the girl to marry.”

You know how his cycle goes. I miss you. I want you. I can’t be with you. But I want to. He’ll use lines like “you can’t be mad at me, we’re not together” while also saying things like “why are you flirting with him? I’m standing right here.” You’re stuck on his fucked up carousel and he won’t let you off. No matter how badly he treats you, no matter how much he pushes you away, no matter how many times you feel the sting of casual rejection, he always manages to pull you back in. Usually with a single text message. Or Snapchat story view. Or Instagram like. He has never, and will never, close the door indefinitely. Just like you have never, and will never, be his first and only option. He will always choose his excuse over you. And you will always sit high on his shelf like the perfect Barbie doll you are, just waiting to be played with.

Until you don’t anymore. Until you decide one day you’re worth more than a few great moments. You’re worth a lifetime of them. His indecision about whether or not to be with you is his decision. He’s saying no. Yes, he will always be that *~perfect~* creature you were never able to lock down. The one you will forever wonder ‘what ifs’ with, the one you will always think about when that God-awful Katy Perry song comes on. But wouldn’t you rather revel in him missing you for the rest of your life than you bending over backwards over the promise of “maybe, I’m not sure.”? You need to turn down the KP and turn up the Queen B. Because honey, he might be the one who got away, but you’re also the best thing he never had.

Image via Shutterstock

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Drunk but not in love

(@DrunkNOTinLove) is a die-hard Splenda addict who requires a constant supply of caffeine and male attention to make it through the day. After graduating with her degree in Economics, she now focuses her energy on adding a "Home" to her degree title by perfecting the "intelligent drunk," and conning a banker into marrying her one day. Originally from New England, she is a hardcore Boston sports fan, but only when boys are around. Almost all of her calories consumed Thursday - Saturday (and the occasional Tuesday) are from $7 bottles of Yellowtail Moscato, and in no way, shape, or form is she fazed by this. All forms of hate mail and date party inquiries can be sent to

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