I Was Wrong

I thought I could do this. I mean, it's not like I'm surprised. I knew the semester ended in the middle of December and all the student teachers would be gone. I even joked about being excited about it at the beginning and sometimes wished for it when things were shaky. I thought I could do a two-month fall fling and bounce back like nothing happened.

But that was before weekends filled with harmonica playing and half marathons. Before I earned part-ownership of a big black Iowa sweatshirt. Before I won his roommates over with chocolate chip cookies delivered weekly. Before my purse filled up with mints from the quaint restaurants we went to. Before all the dancing. Before I made him hike all the way from MGM Grand to The Bellagio and back just because I wanted to see the fountains. Before I got used to his arm around my headrest whenever we drove anywhere. Before long talks over "fancy drinks" from Starbucks or while walking around his complex. Before I realized I finally found someone who is late more than me and gets lost just as easily as I do.

That was also before yesterday, when I found out it was all a lie. A big fat lie. I mean, that's the only explanation I can think of for why I would have adorable texts in my phone one day and a conversation that was so "casually cruel in the name of being honest" (to quote Taylor) the next. You can fake two months right? You can pull out chairs and open doors and say adorable one-liners for two months, it's not that hard.

And I have to blame myself. I mean, some girls complain about being "guarded" and having "walls." Nope, not me. My heart has a giant welcome mat on it for anyone who feels like getting close. Come in, stay a while. Make a giant mess and ruin everything? Don't worry, give me a couple months and I'll be open for business again like nothing ever happened. I wish I had some kind of self-preservation instinct that would kick in when red flags appear, but I don't.

So here I am, two months later, alone with the promises of Skype and FaceTime erased. And I have a big pile of those mints that I'll probably throw out the window as a dramatic gesture.

I wish I'd kept the sweatshirt.