I’ll Never Understand Why You Chose Him Over Me

I remember the day we matched on Hinge. It was a Saturday afternoon, and you were obviously drunk while you were messaging with me. Although that was a bit of a red flag, I was entrenched in your jokes and anecdotes even though I wasn’t even sure you would remember me the following day. You were so stunning that I was taken aback that you would have any interest in me. You went to a top-notch college, had a great job, and your photos stood out as beautifully curated but also wholesomelessly organic. I had gotten out of a tumultuous relationship just months prior, but you seemed like the person who could finally make me feel whole again.

You were quick to share in coming days that you had never been with a female before but have known you were bisexual for years. You seemed eager and excited to meet me but did not even wait until our first date to make it clear you did not want anything serious because you just broke up with your emotionally abusive ex-boyfriend. You described him using words laced with disdain and resentment, which I chose to avoid as a red flag.

Like clockwork, I fell hard for you—very hard. You said all the right things to make me feel like our bond would transcend all the fears and apprehensions you had at the time. You made it known that you felt safe with me, which you had never experienced before with any man. You introduced me to your friends and gushed about how amazing I was and how grateful you were to have met me.

In a span of 6 weeks, we spent hours together reminiscing on the past, sharing our insecurities, and laughing about how we were the most unlikely of pairings because of our differing upbringings. I, too, started to feel safe with you, and despite my severe abandonment issues, I was confident you would never leave me.

Then you started to push me away with no explanation. The nights spent with a tightened chest became frequent as you avoided seeing me or when we did make plans you would cancel. After deciding to take a break, I knew what was happening – you were not ready for me, for my love. All you wanted was his love (or lack thereof), despite claiming prior he meant nothing to you.

Two months passed and I ran into you at a concert. You looked happy to see me but apprehensive at the same time. When I asked if you had gotten back together with your ex-boyfriend, your eyes went wide, and then your glance was nowhere near mine. For someone who loves being right, I was devastated that I had predicted this ending.

We decided to be friends, an idea that seemed at the time to be cowardly and reckless, but I loved you so much as a person that I was so happy to take what I could get.

As of now we are still friends and the one thought that is constantly running through my mind is why him and not me? My love for you has depth and is grounded in admiration beyond all else. I would never want to cause you pain and have found a new side of myself in caring about you. Although you may never know this, not a minute goes by without me knocking on the doors of resentment, trying to understand if there is anything I could have done differently to change the situation.

From my standpoint, it’s nearly impossible to not think you have made the wrong choice. I have started dating again and you are eerily calm knowing I am moving on – not a tinge of jealousy or regret.

I am guilty of wishing I was someone I am not. I wish I was a straight male who could get away with torturing someone, only to lure them back in with promises of a beautiful future, courtship, and a potential family together. I can promise the same, but that’s just not what you are looking for.

In an open letter to you, please know that I will never understand. I cannot change who I am, nor do I genuinely want to, but I can give you everything he gives you and more. I wish you knew that I wish you wanted my promises, and my hope is one day when you think of your future, you will see me.