Real Shit

I was so over it before he came along.

I met a redhead in March, and you know what they say about redheads. Something along the lines of “they are ghosts.” I think they were right. He wasn’t who I thought he was. Hell, he was not who he thought he was. The whole thing was confusing. I hadn’t given anyone a chance since god knows, and when Ron Weasley showed up, I gave him my cape.

The whole thing is a blur. He would say things he didn’t mean. He would declare his deepest feelings for me when he had a few shots of Patron too many. I would be glued to the phone and thinking, “oh, he likes me.” I’d make vision boards and plans for the future. He would tell me things that made my heart spin, and he would later send clarifying messages telling me that he had been drunk. And he didn’t actually feel that way.

Like, really?

At some point in April, I got a little worried. Was he an undercover drunk? Should I have called his mom? Should I have taken him to AA?

After the cherry blossoms finally blossomed, I realized that our time together was over. Finito. Caput. I couldn’t love a ghost.

That’s when he came along.

I had been on bumble swiping in the middle of a meeting. I wore my best face on screen while my boss talked about things I can’t remember. Suddenly, I spot him. I swipe right. I put my phone away, and bam. He messages me, wants to know the best spots in town. I stalk him and realize he lives far and is probably one of those guys looking for instant ass.

I give him a list of burger joints and continue swiping.

Two weeks go by, and he messages me in the middle of a hectic Tuesday, and he asks me out on a date.

Oh, you are back!

I come to Baltimore for work — he responds.

We go hiking on Wednesday and sightseeing on Thursday. He is gone by Friday but comes back the following week. We don’t see each other for a month, and we Zoom every day before going to bed. We talk about our favorite movies and our childhood stories. We’ve spent nights staring at the ceiling, talking about everything and nothing at all. We took road trips and got lost in some ghost town. We’ve laughed, and we’ve cried. And the best part is that I’ve met parts of who I am through him.

Sometimes you have to date shitty shit to appreciate real shit.

Ps. I wrote this for one of my favorite friends, I hope you like it :)