I’m the type of girl that goes after every man she wants with a 90 percent success rate. Sure, there are a few men that get away, but for the most part I get what I want when I want it. I’ve gotten use to this luxury and never once considered it would go awry. That is until I met him – the one night stand I fell in love with who lived 500 miles away.
My relationship with Ian began with a handshake. He agreed to go home with me because the guy I really liked turned me down. He claimed he noticed me the entire night, I barely noticed him at all. He said I was beautiful and enticing, I thought he was cute but not my type. He came to the after party to get closer to me, I ended up using him to complain about my crush. By the end of the night he was in my bed. The next morning I couldn’t wait to call him a cab.
I actually had an amazing night with Ian, but I knew I’d never see or speak to him again. To my surprise, he pursued me long distance for an entire month and eventually conquered my stubbornness and my heart. I fell in love with him and started plotting ways to make our long distance relationship work. After a month of distance, agony, loneliness and “I miss you’s” he came back to town and played my ass like a fiddle.
The first few nights were a blast. We were finally together again and everything seemed right in the world. One morning we woke up, had passionate sex, and cuddled watching YouTube videos while laughing hysterically in bed. Out of nowhere he looked over and said, “I tried to hit on my bartender last night but she had a boyfriend. I was super bummed out.” My reaction was a combination of shock, horror, fury and offense. He was completely nonchalant about trying to bone his bartender 10 minutes before calling me to pick him up from that exact same bar.
We fought for an hour and disagreed over the severity of his actions. He said I was overreacting; it wasn’t a big deal and I shouldn’t be upset. I said I was hurt, ashamed and that I’d spent the past month turning down guys because I was emotionally invested in him. Our conversation ended with a “you do you, babe” which were the last words I expected to hear. We had just finished a long romantic weekend where he drowned me in affection, compliments and romance. We broke it off, he seemed unaffected, and then it was over.
Till this day, I replay every conversation, every morning wake up kiss, every “babe, I miss you.” What did I miss? How could I have avoided this?
I’m not sure how long it will take to recover from Ian. No amount of alcohol, flirting with other men, or XL pizza can bury the daily sadness I feel over him. I invested in someone that wasn’t serious about me – and here I am, still investing in him. They say “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” But I think it’s me who I hate in this scenario. I definitely got a taste of my own medicine, and its flavor is poison.