The Cool Girl

This is not a love story. This is a break up story.

I'd been single for over 9 months, following a very messy break up with my university boyfriend. We'd tried to rekindle to love we once felt at 22. It inevitably wasn't the same at 27, even with the promise of a ring.

When I went on Tinder at the height of lockdown, I didn't think much of it. An afternoon misspent chatting to a random. Maybe a bit of sexting. At the very least, a way to pass the time whilst my housemate (and best friend) was trapped at the other end of the country. 

When I saw N's profile, I was thought he was cute but nothing more. We matched and did the standard pleasantries, "How are you?", "Where do you work?", "When the fuck do you think this will end?", etc. 

It was about 4 days until he got my my number. It was a Saturday. I was in the middle of moving my desk up a spiral stair case of our pub-turned-masonete flat, when he messaged me saying "Hey do you mind if I call you?". 

It was so polite, so innocent I couldn't help but say yes. It was so old-fashioned. It played to romantic notions, the ones in which I still dreamed of a "The Notebook" style romance with a Ryan Gosling-esque figure. We chatted for an hour, possibly longer. My mouth ached from smiling. I was sad when he finally hung up. 

Over the coming days, we talked constantly. We fell into each other's world's. I learnt about his upbringing in the heart of London's posh district, how his mum worked in one of the museums and his love of travelling. I told him about my love of weird facts, my boring job in The City and my ex. 

Everything was intense, but wonderfully so. It felt like the beginning of something more, something bigger. I wanted it to be. I hadn't felt the pangs of love like this in years. 

It was the little intamacies that I cherished most. The photographs, the mundanuty of work. We'd even say good morning and good night. For a very lonely, self-isolaring young woman in the heart of pandemic all on her own - N became everything. 

We planned a socially distanced walk, which then turned into a Houseparty date. I felt nervous and joked about a lot. Drinks were poured and then it was asked "How would you feel if I came over?".

He had a housemate, but they were out somewhere. We knew the risks. It was illegal. We shouldn't. We did though. 

It felt like an eternity him getting here. I wanted to pace around the room, I was so nervous. What if he was stopped by police? What if he changed his mind? What if we infected each other, or others even?

It's one of the most selfish things I've ever done in my life. 

But when he got to my front door, I rushed into his arms. I stood there in the doorway kissing him, not caring that it was the middle of the night or that I was in my underwear. My world became a bit less lonely.

He stayed the night and in the morning we showered together and exchange lazy kisses over cereal on Easter Monday.

It didn't feel like a one night stand, it felt like more. I hoped it wasn't a one night stand. He left and I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. 

I'd loved every second of being with N. He had this infectious smile and bright eyes. Just being near him felt like sunshine. Even the sneaking around felt wonderful, like our little secret. We'd tell this story to our grandchildren one day. Like an epic war-time romance, love defying the odds and COVID-19 for that matter.

A week later we were arranging our next meeting when he said, ‘I think we need to slow this down. It felt different after we had sex right?’ It was a complete 360 from the day before. I was floored. 

I couldn't bare him knowing that I'd fallen for him completely. I wanted to be the cool girl. The one that he could see himself with. 

If only, he could let me in. 

"No, things haven't changed. Let's keep going" I replied. From that point on, things felt strained. Maybe he pulled away or maybe my brain felt like he was pulling away. 

Either way a week later, the discussion cropped up again. I was heartbroken. This was what I'd been trying to avoid. I had a horrendous habit of going for emotionally unavailable guys. It was the thing that put me off one night stands, I'd always want to see the person again and they weren't bothered. I wanted so desperately to be loved and I couldn't go through the rejection regularly like that, so I stopped. I'd go at least half a year on a regular basis without sleeping with anyone. 

And here I was in the exact scenario I’d wanted to avoid. 

It had felt different this time though. There was a connection, wasn't there? N seemed to agree so. He just couldn't have a girlfriend not now, not during COVID. 

We agreed to remain friends and leave at that. 

The one person I looked forward to speaking to, more than anyone else in the world didn't want to know. 

Days later though, he texted me. Maybe he'd changed his mind, so I texted back. It was just nerves, a blip. It was the emotional stress of COVID.

But this time. This time. It would be better.

And so began, a game of push pull with my heart. 

We'd text, get close, and then he'd pull away. I'd cry, vow to be stronger and then melt when he text. I lost count of how many tears I shed. I sobbed at my shitty desk, alone during work. I sobbed uncontrollably throughout the entire Clap for the NHS. And one very notable moment, when I sobbed taking out the bins, I forgot my keys and had to pay a locksmith £500 to be let back in. I never told N this.

I still wanted to be cool girl.

It was around this time, with enough Googling that I decide to try a different approach. If he text again, I was going to be cool girl. I would be unfazed. I'd be brave. I'd try being a friend with benefits. 

What did I have to lose? We'd have amazing, world changing sex and either he would fall for me or I would lose interest! Nothing could go wrong. I'd be like those strong sex positive women you'd see on TV, who played men at their own games.

What could go wrong? 

When he text me on my birthday, I was elated. This was it. I went for it, despite the warning from my newly home housemate. 

N and I agreed to meet two days later. I snuck away from the house, in a summer dress and mask combo. The May sun hitting my skin as I walked. 

As soon as he saw me, I was in his arms. It was as if nothing had changed between then and now. The world slowed as we walked together chatting about everything and nothing. He bought me Gelato. As we sat together, eating ice cream - it felt real. As if none of the drama that had gone before had happened. This is what it could be like, me and him. 

We made out for the majority of the day, I couldn't not touch him. I stripped off to my new bikini as we settled back in the park, the first I'd ever bought. He just knew how to make me feel confident and wanted. 

I even suggested taking a ride to an empty part of town in his car. A session in the newly deserted financial district in broad daylight. This was it was meant to be. This was the sense of rebellion I'd sought all these years. 

We held hands as he drove and I thought triumphantly, I could do this. I could be less emotionally invested in sex. 

The lie to myself didn't last long, as days later he pulled away. I lied to him and said I'd met someone else, so we should leave it. It wasn't such a lie, I had tried to talk to others before he came back. 

I went home to Cornwall a wreck. Even during this time, he reached out. I lied and said I'd chat with him when I was back in London. 

Weeks went by and he messaged again, "How are you?". I lied and said "good" even though the though of him made my stomach churn. He asked if I was still seeing "that person". 

"It didn't work out."

"Why?"

I couldn't go through it again. I wanted to keep away, but I couldn't.

"You." I said. 

I broke. Over the coming days, we chatted like old times but I felt uneasy. After a day at beach with the girls acting a a counsel of war, I had to ask him.

"Why now?"

"Because I want to see you?"

"But why now?"

"Well I'm going away for a month and I want to see you."

And there it was, I was convenient. 

I rallied and ragged. "Yes but why me?"

"Because I like you. I'm fussy and we have this great connection. It's just different, isn't it?

I just can't have a girlfriend right now, I'm leaving London in six month to live in Denmark.

If I thought I was staying, I'd date you in a heartbeat - you know that right?"

At this point, I should reread the texts and put exactly what he said but even two months later it's still painful to look.

I was so frustrated, I couldn't tell whether he was feeding me what I wanted or being honest. I asked to call but he said he was busy but could we still meet. 

This had to end. I couldn't give anymore of myself. 

I cried in the arms of my best friend as I agreed to meet after work the next day. This was it.

We agreed on a pub after work. I'd barley eaten all day. I looked exhausted to the point were I'd turned off my webcam for the work Zoom calls. 

He was running late and I panicked even more. If the toilets had been near, I would have hurled.

When he arrived, he could tell something was up. I shook on the bar stool, as the cool girl exterior broke. He bought me an orange juice but we promptly left after that. 

Weeks of emotions cascaded over, I broke down outside the pub. 

This would be the last time I ever saw him and my heart was breaking. 

He walked me to the tube and there we stayed for an hour. I told him that he needed to leave me alone as I'd fallen for him and I couldn't bare that he didn't feel the same. 

He shifted uneasily but agreed. "I never wanted to hurt you. I care about you but I should have said about dating you, it only hurt you more. I'm sorry. It wasn't about you, I just haven't been emotionally available for really long time. Especially, now I'm moving. I've even put in for the transfer at work and I..."

I simply said, "I just need to be away from you." For the first time, he looked hurt. "I think I need to block you".

"I understand but I won't block you. You don't deserve that." 

We talked a little more but it was grey and overcast. I shivered and he ordered me a taxi. 

"You sure you don't want to come back to mine?" Half joking, half serious. We still wanted each other even in this moment. 

"We know where that would lead." I said, sobbing and simultaneously, half smiling. 

I handed him his jacket as I walked towards the Uber. We hugged and his hand went into my hair as we said goodbye. I can still feel where he placed it, even now.

"Goodbye then."

"I'll see you around,” he said. And that was that. 

I got in the cab and lost it completely, driving away as he entered the tube station. 

It's been two months since then and there isn't a day I don't think of him. I told you this wasn't a love story. 

I wasn't able to block him in the end, much to the annoyance of my housemate. He still linger around my Instagram stories, although I unfollowed him. 

I constantly want to see him, to reach out. But the truth is, I don't know whether it would make any real difference.

I'll never know whether he liked me, like that. Wasn't it just bad timing? Or whether the whole thing was built up lust and the overall romantic tendencies of an isolated young woman. 

I wish I could say that I've been able to date, that it doesn't hurt every time I see your name. Or that I don't look at your Instagram, just to see your face. But neither are true. 

I still look for answers as to why you couldn't let me in. Did I look too much like your ex? Am I too sensitive? Did I invest too much too soon? Was purely that it just wasn't meant to be. 

All I know is this, I will still go into love headstrong. I'll be hurt again but if you don't act on the feeling then you will always miss that opportunity. 

And maybe that is the lesson, go for it and live to your fullest each because you never know when it might be over. The memories I have made because of you will last me a life time even if you forgot my name within a week.

But for now, I'm still hoping that our time will come Nick. One day. 

But until then, this has been a break up story.