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At the time of writing this, you should know I am feeling slightly unhinged and it’s getting worse by the second. I *looooove* being a girl! It’s a Monday and I fought off the worst hangxiety this morning even though I was in bed by 11 PM last night, sometimes the Sunday Funday rosé just hits wrong.
Let’s just get into it. If you’re caught up on the blog, then you know about Matteo. If not, you can catch up here and here. It’s October which means it’s been a year since our first date (truly one for the books) and the smell of the air and the brisk weather and the low sun is reminding me of him at every turn. To summarize in case you don’t read the other posts (but you really should — they are absolutely bonkers), we matched on Hinge last year. I recognized him instantly when I saw his profile and was freaking out because I had a massive crush on him from seeing him around the neighborhood (he owns a bar in the East Village where I lived and knows my brother). When we met up in person, he told me that he had a crush on me for years.
Our first date was wildly chaotic but so much fun and it ended with him telling me he loved me. We went on to have a 3 and a half month situationship that left me completely insane and still haunts me to this day. You need to know that despite being dressed in red flags, Matteo is a gentle soul. A goodhearted man with a lot of issues. Issues that I actively overlooked because I saw the best in him, like I do with everyone. A blessing or a curse? My compassion can sometimes truly be my own worst enemy but it also makes me who I am so the jury is out on that one. But it was hard to take his behavior personally even though it could be classified as borderline toxic because I knew he genuinely adored me and if he had all his marbles at the time, he would have absolutely done the right thing.
Matteo was super passionate and vulnerable and made me feel loved and desired when we were together. In a world where so many men are still pining over their exes and talking about them on dates (!!), he was a breath of fresh air. He was fully focused on me and I felt beautiful and cherished in his presence. And don’t even get me started on our chemistry because gurl. We never had a fight. He was never mean to me. I know he would die if he had any idea how much he actually hurt me.
What made this hard was that I always felt like Matteo was right on the edge of being available but he was too afraid to slow down in his own life to give himself the attention he needed, let alone give it to a partner. He was always rushing from place to place, always working on a new project, and completely immersed in his business, which was hot, but I also knew it was a crutch. And his dating patterns reflected that frenetic behavior. Anytime we hung out, it was intense. He made me feel like I was the sexiest woman alive, like nobody else existed on the planet. He’d open up and tell me his darkest secrets and his biggest dreams. After our dates, he’d be really consistent with his texts for a few days and the poof — he was gone again. He’d resurface a week or two later, and we’d reconnect and it felt like no time had passed. It was a complete cycle of self-sabotage but I clung to this hope that one day he’d get past it and we could try to actually be together. Not almost together.
When I moved to the Lower East Side from the East Village in February, I reached out to him after not hearing from him for a few weeks. I wanted to tell him I had moved because it felt like the perfect excuse to reach out, so I sent a classic “hey stranger” text and he replied with a long, heartfelt voice note telling me how crazy things had been in his life, but how much he missed me, how he needed to see me immediately, how he missed my face and the sound of my voice, how he couldn’t stop thinking about me – the works.
We talked over text for a few hours that day. He texted me every day that week and we caught up on each other’s lives and couldn’t wait to see each other. He invited me to a private party he was throwing at a new bar he had just opened. He called me that Saturday morning and told me to arrive between 8-9 PM. I felt like we were back.
After spending the entire day imagining how the night would go down over multiple text threads with my girlfriends, we had a few imaginary scenarios going on. This was my favorite: I show up alone looking radiant and sexy in my favorite black leather leggings, a black silk blouse, and perfectly tousled hair. Edgy yet chic. He sees me walk in the door, runs to me, plants me at the bar with a glass of champagne while he caters to my every need, introduces me to all of his friends, then we go home and have amazing sex and start to have a normal dating life. I personally loved this vision, so I lit my magical love candle, set the intention to have a perfect evening, and got ready for my big night.
Unfortunately my vision does not pan out. In reality, I show up to an overcrowded, hot bar filled with people I have never met, scan the crowd and don’t see Matteo anywhere. I ask a few people if he’s there. Someone tells me he had to go run a quick errand and he’d be right back. I send him a text to let him know I’ve arrived that he does not reply to. Luckily I spot a familiar face from the neighborhood and we start chatting over a glass of wine. Minutes turn into an hour and I go outside to call him. He doesn’t pick up. I can feel my anxiety building at this point, so I go back inside to grab my coat and call it a night, and just as I’m about to leave, he comes flying through the door. I’m pissed that he’s late, but my heart is relieved that he’s there.
He makes a beeline to behind the bar and starts stocking it with the wine he arrived with. Before we have a chance to make eye contact, a woman that he walked in with approaches the bar. She is statuesque (a good four inches taller than Matteo), wearing a long, pleated metallic silver skirt and black hat. Her makeup is perfect; her highlighter glimmering in the candlelight. She is standing next to me trying to order a drink but the place is so overcrowded and it’s taking forever for her to get the bartender’s attention. “What do you want, babe?” I ask this stranger, because you know, girl code.
“A prosecco,” she says. The irony.
“John!” I yell, waving to get the bartender’s attention.
“I don’t know why it’s so hard to get a fucking drink in here, my boyfriend owns the place.” she says, to no one in particular.
But I hear it. I feel like it is meant precisely for me.
My heart stops. Time stops. Everything stops. Matteo walks over to me the second the words pour from her mouth and I lean my head back and pour the rest of my Chardonnay down my throat as quickly as possible.
He leans in to give me a hug. “I’m leaving,” I say furiously, my face burning bright red and my hands trembling. I grab my coat and race to the door. Before I can get halfway down the block, my phone rings. It’s him.
“Are you out of your fucking MIND?” I yell as I pick up.
“Why did you leave?!” he asks.
“You invited me here. You were an hour late. And then you walk in with your GIRLFRIEND!?” Tears are now streaming down my face as the freezing cold February air stings my cheeks.
“Cara, please, it’s not what you think. We broke up. She’s my ex. I didn’t invite her here. She just showed up. I swear! Please come back,” he pleads.
I hang up the phone and hail a cab and sob the entire way home.
I woke up the next day to missed calls and texts from him begging me to forgive him. He called again on Monday afternoon and I finally picked up. I’ll spare you the details of that conversation, but the gist of it was: he swore on his life that he wasn’t in a relationship with that woman, told me how deeply he cares for me and respects me, promised me he was 100% single, and asked if he could make it up to me and see me as soon as possible. I agreed to see him, because there was still a piece of me left that wanted so badly to believe him. So we made plans for the next day, which just so happened to be Valentine’s Day.
And that afternoon, he canceled.
I was crushed, but I knew I had to let him go this time. We had no contact for two months and then one April afternoon, just a week before my birthday, he reached out. He asked if he could take me to dinner. I agreed. (I know).
Over dinner, he apologized for the way things went down with us. Things were bad in his world. And in that moment I realized, if this man could barely show up for himself all that time, how could I have expected him to show up for me? He told me how he was getting his life together, how he wanted to be better. He had a plan and the intention to change. I saw a side of him I had never seen before. His voice sounded different. He barely drank. He was affectionate and he kissed me the whole night, but he didn’t try to come back to my place. He was calm. I was hopeful. I knew he needed to regroup so I wished him the best and I truly meant it. It didn’t feel like closure, it felt like a pause.
It’s been over 5 months since we’ve talked. The urge to text him is strong sometimes, and I’m partially horrified with myself for still thinking about him, and partially understanding of why I do. Fortunately I’ve done a lot of work on myself and my self-respect is stronger than my emotions most days so I haven’t pulled the trigger.
The other day I burned the same scented candle I used to burn back when we were seeing each other (Le Labo Santal 26) and my brain just went fucking haywire. I don’t know why this is still a thing for me. Is it because that hope is still there? Is it because we didn’t get a real chance? Is it because there’s a possibility he may be better now? Available now?
I wonder what would have happened if I never went to that party. I wonder what would have happened if I never reached out to him after I moved. I wonder if he is still out there, wondering about me.
I guess that’s the thing about almost relationships. Our minds will always wonder, what if…
For now, I’m okay with tucking him into the pages of the book and the blog. Maybe writing about it is the best way to make sense of it all without re-opening that chapter in real life.
I remember thinking I was crazy for relating my experience with Matteo to the lyrics of Taylor Swift’s “All Too Well” until I read that the song was about a 2 and a half month almost relationship she had with Jake Gyllenhaal. Then I read this New York Times piece about the song and felt even more validated. I think a lot of us feel shame for having such strong feelings about short-lived romances. Like we’re not supposed to miss someone who we’ve been separated from longer than we were actually with them. Like we imagined or invented the connection. But we didn’t imagine it or invent it. We lived it. And we remember it, sometimes all too well.
Tell me in the comments, have you been there? What has your experience been like with an almost relationship? Talk to me <3
I randomly listened to your podcast this morning on Spotify and nothing has ever resonated with me about how I feel about my current situationship more. Then I came here and read this and it's the same. I know I have to break it off with the guy I've been "seeing" for 6 months. The first 3 months were great. He asked me out at my work (I work in a retail pharmacy, he's a patient) we saw each other a couple times a week, ive never felt more sexy than i do with him, we talked on the phone every night and then July rolled around and now we barely talk. I should have known going into this he wasn't going to be ready for dating. He's separated with a 4 year old. Mom doesn't take their son for more than 12 hours at a time, and she's not letting him move on. Knowing that we could be something good seriously hurts knowing I'm going to have to end it because I can't keep hoping something is going to change and then disappointed when nothing does. It was easier divorcing my ex-husband and breaking up with my now ex-fiance
I almost threw my phone ……
Girl, this is my current situation! 3 months exactly… I call it “My Summer Fling”. After being single for 7 years (which I truly enjoyed) following my divorce, I decided this would be the year that I’d date. I connected with a guy who I once knew as a kid.. The 3 months were everything, crazy first date .. he professed his love that week etc. We had a random fight 8/15/23 on the 3 month mark .. Attempt to reconnect but it’s not the same. I can’t shake what we had. I needed this post ,
Started thinking that I was crazy for caring about this short live romance. We almost made, it was almost perfect but
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Brandy says “Almost doesn’t count”