A couple months back, this guy and I realized that we both had feelings for each other, but it all fell to pieces by the slight problem that he lived in Texas. Which is more the 2500 kilometers from where I am. So we left it at the infatuation and never tried long distance, which was what he wanted. He was right and I agreed to leave it be. It was the smart thing to do, but I still felt heartbroken. I knew that nothing could come of it, but it still hurt. Every time I opened my mouth to bitch about the whole problem I sounded crazy, so I tried to limit how often I would talk about it.

For some reason that I can’t understand, we still talked through this and remained friends, and still are friends. Despite me hating his guts for the better part of a year. My theory behind us talking and staying friends was that we both belong to the same group of friends, we also have the same rare medical condition. So we talk about trivial things that friends talk about, friends, school, life, death, unfortunately, and we recently graduated to talking about lovers. Not only was I not jealous of the other women he was dating, I was actually happy for him. I am over him.

He’s a very introverted, shy guy. So, when a girl from his home state asked him out on a date he started freaking out. Much to my amusement. He also has a girlfriend where he lives now and still agreed to go out with this other girl. I also have a sneaking suspicion that these girls don’t know about each other.

Throughout this whole conversation, I realized that I probably dodged a pretty large bullet with that mess. Chances are, it would’ve lasted a month at the most, and I would’ve ended up, even more, heartbroken because he would’ve flat out cheated on me. It took me way longer than I like to admit to figure that out. Oh well, better late than never, right?

I kept my friend and I got a life lesson or the belief that I am worthy of love. Either way, I am probably better off now than I was, this time, last year.