A Letter to You. The One Who Stole Her Away for Good.

Geplaatst op 03-04-2025

I really liked her, you know. That girl. Why did you have to steal her away from me?

I never stood a chance against you with your fancy modern style and your ability to keep her constantly entertained. She had no need for me. Not really. Not when I think back to those first few dates.

I remember on our very first date. Man, we got along famously. She could make me laugh the way no girl had in a long time. Then you showed up, made one little peep and she turned most of her attention toward you for the rest of the night. She all but forgot I existed in that moment.

Why didn’t I run then? It was obvious she had a thing for you.

It was a little unnerving the way she just looked at you all night long. I felt so on my toes, like every word that came out of my mouth had to be the most witty and profound word I had ever spoken to steal her back from you again. It seemed that any time there was even a slight lull, her attention once again turned to you even when you weren’t really saying anything to her at all.

Why I came back for a second date, I’ll never know. Why she wanted to go on a second date with me is also beyond my comprehension. But nothing confuses me more than why she brought you on that second date in the first place. And why she brought you on that first date to begin with. They were dates for crying out loud. I know the dating world is full of competition, but do I really have to sit across from it at a dinner that I’m paying for?

That second date started out okay. I thought she liked me more than she liked you. She laughed at my jokes. She was attentive and thoughtful in her responses. I actually felt good about paying for her meal. For a moment I forgot you had come along at all, and it seemed she had forgotten you as well.

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Then I made the mistake of excusing myself to go to the bathroom which is apparently when you swept in and stole her again. By the time I got back she was completely enamored by you. She couldn’t stop looking at you. I silently grimaced at the thought of once again paying for her meal. Why weren’t you paying for her stupid meal?

Maybe I just have low self esteem. I don’t know. Why else would I be okay sitting there watching her just laugh with you and smile with you and poke you and look at you. Why else would I sit there and be okay with her forgetting I exist.

I don’t know, but if I sat there and didn’t say anything I guess it means I was. I even went on a third date with her. I hoped you wouldn’t show up, but like the jerk you are, you did. This time I thought I’d passively aggressively say something about it. She picked up the hint and ignored you for a little while, but it was a lost cause. Before the entrees came you had pushed me out again. It was then that I decided I was worth more than this, and I vowed inside that I would never go out with her again. I wouldn’t sit there across from the two of you, pretending like there might be some place for me in this girl’s life.

I mean, look. I know you’re important to her. I know that she loves you and cherishes you and feels more connected to you than just about any human being in her life. I know that you’ll always be there for her.

I’m okay with that. I’m not jealous of her friendship with you.

But couldn’t you have just given me one meal? Couldn’t you just have given me five minutes alone with her to see if she and I might maybe, just maybe, have had a future in the dating department? Couldn’t you just let me have a little bit of the attention?

I mean, what do you give her that I wasn’t able to give her on those dates? Obviously something! The gossip about her friends? I guess I couldn’t really do that. Talk about the weather? I could have done that. Life updates about what her old college roommates had had for dinner? Yeah, that was all you.

And since she was obviously more interested in all of that, and not in me, or my life, or sharing her life with me, I guess I should have bowed out long before and let you have her all to herself.

I didn’t though. I don’t know why. I guess I thought at some point you’d do me a solid and just… I don’t know… die?

Or something.

I don’t know.

Was that morbid?

Sorry, I just really don’t like you. I never have.

I won’t ever see her again, but next time could you just do the poor guy she’s out on a date with a favor and stay in the car? You can tell her all about Aunt Gertrude’s new eggplant recipe or her old workmate’s new exercise routine when the date is over. I’m sure she’ll still give you all the time in the world.

Just share her next time. Okay? It doesn’t always need to be about you.

Just sayin’.

Catch ya later.

Oh, and before I officially disappear, give her this text message, would you?

“Hey pretty lady, I think you’re awesome, but I’m tired of competing with your phone. I wish you all the best.”