The reason isn’t always clear when something doesn’t work out. When my affection pointed sharply in one person’s direction, and although I could feel them my way, it never came to be. My brain rattled with reasons and theories tethered by loose thread. What I’ve learned is that we might not know why things don’t work out until we’re with someone who resolves that question. More often, I’ll wonder why things never materialized with person x. The 1am texting marathons and time together and those lingering looks incapable of being anything but desire. I double checked the signs against online articles and conversations with friends. “they like me, right? ” All the signs stood in neon. And then it was gone. The texts stopped coming and we drifted from close confidants to strangers. I’ve seen the answer a few times.
I’m standing unassumingly. My eyes idle without the impulse for signs, but they come to me. The moment always comes too late. It comes after the feelings have quit throbbing . The affections departed. And then, I catch it from a distance– first recognizing them and then who they are with. The glittered glaze over each other’s eyes. A simple touch on the shoulder, and I know. I know in the same way when I see my never-flame’s person post about them. I get the answer I no longer needed. It was never a complicated formula but a monosyllabic answer, and I wasn’t it.
I’ve never felt grief here. It’s relief. Relief to know that it wasn’t me but something else I could never control. It’s a relief to see someone I cared so deeply for being adored how they want, and there’s humility in understanding I couldn’t be that person. The selfless part of love is wanting our beloved to be happy even if we aren’t a part of that happiness. Humans are selfish creatures, and love is a fantastical thing because it grows us bigger than we are capable of being– to put someone else before our own egos. Love for ourselves allows us to let go. We understand that we deserve love without some inflection at the end– a question mark where an exclamation point should be. Happiness for another person doesn’t mean we continue lacerating ourselves to prove we’re good sports. It just means that we hear the signs and accept answers that don’t sound good. The answers don’t come when we want them. They arrive when they are ready.