Tinder had pulled in a huge crowd and I was the new entrant upon suggestions from a close friend. “It would be a welcomed distraction,” I pacified my mind each time it floated questions on what would it be like to date strangers. I was exploring my way through the app when a guy super-liked me; a decent Australian with a flowery self-description, explaining his lookout for honest friendship. I liked him and judging my safety being miles apart, he overseas and me in Bangalore, I swiped right! 

It was just the second day of our virtual interactions and I knew I was falling for him. I hated myself for being so stupid and liking someone, of whom I knew nothing. My honest self couldn’t see me anxious for long and confessed to him that he meant more than a friend. I, however, refrained from imposing any pressure of commitment as I believed in mutual acceptance than a compelled one. Much to my dismay, his response was pretty cold, emphasizing that I was nothing more than a friend. We had a fight as I was so sure there was something brewing between us and his sudden rejection had shattered me within.

Suggestions on maintaining a distance from him poured in from friends and all I was still doing was second him on the pretext of his disturbed family being the reason for his rudeness.

I wept for hours, blocking him across all social networks and promising myself never to speak to him again. Little did I realise that all my acts were driven towards a silent expectation of seeing my phone buzz with his name on the screen or have his messages flood my inbox.

I unblocked a few days later and much to my surprise I saw 21 missed calls and endless messages from him, one being admitting his feeling for me. I was on cloud nine and his surprise visit to India was an icing on the cake. We loved, we fought and each time I asked him to stay away, he very sweetly said that he was there forever. I wouldn’t deny that his words were heaven for me as I really did need him.

When I had all the reasons to be happy, a strange fear of losing him also seeped in. I was clueless as to whether this was my insecurity or just a gut feeling of the forthcoming evil. And, I wasn’t wrong; we did part ways, leaving me to recuperate the void he had left behind.

His absence took me back in time when he abused and I overlooked, consoling myself that he had anger issues, when my occasional outrages had him term me as a ‘bi***'. Instances when his make-out sessions with girls were termed ethical while my casual hangouts were slutty.

It’s been a while since his exit and I’m yet to accept it completely. However, I do thank him for making me realise the thin line between fantasy and reality and that trust shouldn’t be invested in everyone. You were rude and justified it as "intentional" to help me cope up with the loss. Well, I’m sorry but it was quite lame of you to pretend being godly when you aren’t even close to that term. Today, I don’t hate you but myself for giving away a part of me to someone so undeserving.

Share This Story