Dear My Future “Whatevers,”
Hey there, it’s me, Beth. I don’t know if our relationship will ever extend beyond texting or if you talk to me just to hold onto the hope of having sex with me. We may get married, or our first date might make us want to run for the hills. You might meet my parents, or maybe we’ll make out once at the bar and then awkwardly smile at each other on campus. You might ask for my number but never text me, despite my desperate attempts to talk to you. Maybe we’ll fall in love or maybe we’ll fall back into the title of complete strangers. I’m not sure what you’ll be to me, but I want you to read this anyways.
I bet we aren’t each other’s firsts, and we probably won’t be each other’s lasts. We’ve probably already experienced our first kiss, first love, first heart break, first everything. You’ve probably slept with a handful of women, and I myself have done the same with men. I’ve developed feelings for guys who haven’t felt the same, and maybe you’ve experienced something similar. You won’t be the first guy I’ve cried over, and you certainly won’t be the last. You aren’t my first love, and there has been other guys before you that have altered the way I view a relationship. My emotions aren’t as innocent and raw as they once were. Life has changed me. Life has changed how I am going to look at you.
If you are reading this at the very beginning of our “whatever” relationship, you are just another guy to me. I have no predispositions about you other than what I’ve seen on your Facebook, or the way you treated me the first night we met. If you treated me like a piece of meat, I’m not interested, no matter how many late night texts you send me. If we have been talking for a few weeks and then you ignore me at the bar to talk to some other girl, I’m not wasting my time on you. Maybe I’m jealous, but I’m not heartbroken. You’re just another guy. And like I said before, you probably won’t be my last guy.
You aren’t the first guy to play with my emotions, you aren’t the first guy who I’ve developed feelings for. You may think you are the Seneca Crane or Plutarch Heavensbee in this “whatever” relationship (if you didn’t get that Hunger Games reference right away then GTFO), but I’ve seen it all before. I’m not naive and I’m not going to expect that anything will come of this until something does actually come of it.
Don’t call me crazy because I question what this “whatever” relationship is after months of talking, I’m not expecting a ring on my finger. I don’t care what you label this as. But, I do care how you label me. I can be the girl you are “talking to,” or “hooking up with,” or maybe I’m just another girl on your long list of potential suitors. I’m not some “dumb broad,” or some “random bitch,” and if I am, have the decency to tell me. If that’s what I am to you, then why are you even wasting your time?
Don’t text me every single day of the week and ask me about my family if I’m just some random bitch to you. Don’t take me out to dinner, don’t tell me you like me, don’t hold my hand. Don’t pull me in the trap of falling for you and then freak out when I actually do.
The dating culture of the 21st century has evolved into one giant twisted and f*cked up game, and we all willingly play along. If I like you, I’m going to tell you. But, don’t flatter yourself just yet, I’m not looking to be your girlfriend. I’m not expecting a ring on my finger or flowers at my doorstep. “Like” doesn’t translate to a marriage contract. If so, I’d be screwed. It doesn’t mean I’m head over heels for you or you’re the person I want to have my babies with. So, relax. I didn’t know being honest about my feelings was frowned upon.
You can call me “crazy” for developing feelings, but I could say the same to you for being petrified of a relationship that was never even established in the first place. You aren’t looking for a commitment, but when did I say I was?
You aren’t my first guy. And you might not be last. Don’t waste my time. Don’t string me along for your own entertainment. Don’t assume I’m looking for a committed relationship.
Our “whatever” break up might sting for a little bit, but you won’t break me. Life moves on, and so will I. You are just another guy.
I look forward to whatever we may or may not be. And if this letter freaks you out, then we were never meant to be in the first place.