October 27, 2011, 11:30 P.M.
A disgusting wailing noise is coming from my mouth. My knees to my chest, I’m trying to pull myself together. Deep breaths and counting, anything to get myself to not look so pathetic in public. Screams and chants are coming from the endless groups of people returning from a night on the town, all of them oblivious to what I am feeling or thinking at this moment. A slapping noise from a high-five between two friends is exchanged as they lead two women back to their room.
I should probably relocate from where I’m sitting in the hostel hallway but I honestly don’t think I can be quiet enough to not wake everyone up. I just keep replaying that heart-wrenching conversion over and over in my head.
October 27, 2011, 11:27 P.M.
I barely have any Wi-Fi in this damn hostel and Matt told me we should wait to talk. But no, I have to have everything go my way. I demand that we speak though I know nothing good will come out of the conversation. We try to Skype and the connection fails. So we switch to a Skype phone call. I hold my iPad close to my ear, hoping it will make the connection better and I will be able to hear him. The conversation goes on for three minutes. “Things have changed. It’s not working” and all the bullshit in-between is what we talked about. And just like that, relationship over. No real reason, no explanation why. Just that “things” weren’t working out.
October 27, 2011, 11:32 P.M.
I sit against a silver tiled wall. What I thought was the nicest hostel I’ve stayed in during this fall break trip while abroad in London suddenly turned into hell. I can’t stop thinking about everything that happened. How all the warning signs were there and I didn’t do anything. I’m so stupid. I’m stupid for even believing anything he said to me. Those sickening artificial words I fell for. Silly girl.
March 26, 2011 7:04 P.M.
We were sitting on the couch in his bedroom though we stared at one another blankly; both too scared to begin the conversation. I could hear Calvin Harris playing from the speakers his frat brothers had just connected downstairs. My hazel eyes met his beautiful brown eyes and I knew I had to be the one to start this conversation.
“I’m honestly just not ready for a relationship. I’ve been burned too many times. And I’m going abroad so I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” I spit out to him.
Deep down I wanted so badly for him to just tell me everything would work out. That it didn’t matter I was going abroad and that we could have it all.
And for once in my love life, things went right.
He was the one. I just knew it.
April 3, 2011, 6:00 A.M.
Still a little bit tipsy off last night’s open bar, we sat on the king-sized bed and talked about anything that came to mind. While Matt was going on about how he might be visiting home in the next few weekends, I suddenly had a brilliant idea. A mischievous grin spread across my face because I knew he would most likely decline my request.
“We should drive to Philly and have breakfast,” I suggested.
We were in the Poconos for his fraternity’s formal and only about two hours away from Philadelphia, my hometown.
Matt stared at me and then left the room. I sat on the bed still in my dress from the night before, wondering where he was going. Suddenly I heard a jingling noise as my keys hit the bed.
“Let’s go,” he said with a smirk.
We got breakfast to go from a Philly favorite, Wawa and headed to the art museum. After parking the car, I raced to the top of the stairs just like Rocky. As we looked at the sunrise I felt an overwhelming sense of joy. I was home with him.
May 13, 2011, 10:34 A.M.
I sat in my car in his fraternity’s parking lot. Boxes overflowed from my backseat and I had my driving playlist ready to go. Matt sat next to me as tears began to take over. I knew we had the whole summer ahead of us, but a treacherous sadness overcame me. It was aching to think he wouldn’t be the one I woke up next to every day. That his arms wouldn’t be wrapped around me at all times. That we wouldn’t get breakfast every Sunday at Bruegger’s and that we wouldn’t watch How I Met Your Mother together every night in his bed.
“Are you sure we should stay together this summer?” I asked.
“Stephanie, there is absolutely nothing you need to worry about. I’m going to be in New York and you’ll be in Philly. We are going to have a great summer together.”
“But what about London? Seriously, Matthew, you always change the subject. Will you visit me or not?”
“Yes, I promise I will try to visit you. I would do anything for you.”
And with that I pulled out of the lot and saw the brick house with white and red trim for the last time. I kept telling myself that I would be seeing Matt soon and everything would be fine.
August 18, 2011, 9:34 P.M.
Sitting in his Honda Civic, I didn’t know what to do. The idea of going to London without Matt terrified me. Millions of excuses flooded my mind—I could find a fall internship, take classes at home or just take the semester off. My parents wouldn’t be happy but I could blame it on my “fear” of flying.
I thought back to earlier that day and the amazing last memories we made. We played mini-golf, window shopped at King of Prussia mall and then ended the evening with dinner at The Kitchen Bar, one of my favorite restaurants at home. It was agonizing seeing such an enchanting evening end on such a dejected note.
We sat in his car and shared our last kiss.
October 27, 2011, 12:30 A.M.
As I lay on the hostel hallway floor, I know I am an image of weakness. My memory is so strong it floods my mind with all the memories we shared. My world appears to be ending because I allowed myself to get attached to a boy. I won’t be home for another two months. Everyone I want to talk to is sleeping or in another country. My parents have no idea how hurt I am. I am alone.
And just as I am allowing myself to feel even more self-pity, a tall man with brown eyes approaches me. He kneels down and gives me a hug.
“Is everything okay?”
And just like that, it begins again.
This was a personal essay assignment for my magazine writing class in the fall of 2012. These are my own thoughts and opinions–nothing was contributed by Matt or his fraternity. I felt it was only appropriate to add to my blog and hope it reminds readers that men are assholes, especially fraternity dudes.
“Single Girl” is tired of hooking up with random dudes at frat parties, dealing with men leading her on, and always having to make the first move. Dealing with the unfortunate scene of college dating, “Single Girl” tackles the topics of love, lust, and relationships.