If you every wanted to see me whole-heartedly accept, without hesitation, an invite for a first date, this is how you do it.

Because I read this Thought Catalog article, but recounting all the boys I’ve kissed seemed like way too big of a task (gasp, slag).

S
We were both 18 and I had never really had a serious boyfriend before. You told me you loved me after three days and that you wanted me to meet your parents after a week. I ended it the next day. But I did get a Finding Nemo DVD out of it. Bonus.

P
You were that nice guy that every girl thinks they want, but in actuality, you were just annoying. You bought me flowers, opened doors. My mom adored you. But you did this thing with your face that was just the biggest turn-off. Sorry, but yes, that one time I was actually laughing at you, not whatever was on the TV at the time.

R
You had a mohawk, a tribal tattoo, and really liked The Killers. I think I was drunk 75% of the time we dated. That was probably why it lasted three months. You broke up with me via myspace message while I was on vacation. You still drunk text me to this day.

M
You met me at a coffee shop, only to find out you didn’t even like coffee. Then you proceded to tell me about how you were in a “paleo-esque” diet competition with your friends, as I ate a giant chocolate chip cookie. We were soulmates, obvs.

( )
I don’t remember your name, but I nicknamed you N.Patz because you looked like NPH and Robert Pattinson put together. We liked all the same things and you seemed pretty cool, but then you got so beyond drunk I had to take you home and put you in my bed while I slept in my roommates room. And then you wouldn’t leave the next day. Epitome of first date hell. Thanks for returning my jacket a few days later, though.

Only once, and then I’m not talking about it again. I just need to get it out, and then I’ll feel better. Or I won’t, who knows. And this probably won’t be the last I talk about this, let’s be honest. But it’ll be the only time I talk about it on here because once it’s documented, that’s it. I’ll send it to the archives and won’t look at it again.

It was a short romance. And I call it a “romance” because that’s what it was to me. I was so infatuated with you. I didn’t think you were real. I came home from each date thinking about how perfect you were. You checked all my boxes, all the optional ones and then some. You were the dream. Or, so I thought.

One night, I trekked out to a foreign city to see you. A city I deemed off-limits, because really, why would I travel 30 minutes plus to hang out at a bar when I can do that around the corner? But I thought to myself “he’s worth it.” So I went out of my comfort zone and into untraveled waters.

We were driving back to your house and as you flipped through the channels on the radio, Sheryl Crow came through the speakers. “All I wanna do is have some fun! I got a feeling I’m not the only one!” you loudly proclaimed, singing off-key while I am nearly in tears laughing at this terrible rendition. We sat back in our seats and all I could think was “I don’t want to be anywhere else.” For him, I would’ve traveled to that city a thousand times over.

We had your typical night out. Dinner, drinks, bars, and then back to the house. We were lying in bed and I’m nervous. I paused, I hesitated, and I said “Um, this isn’t going to happen, sorry. At least not until I know this is real. When I know you’re not going to disappear.” With an ever-understanding kiss you told me it was okay and that you understood.

“Honestly, if I just wanted to sleep with someone, I would’ve just picked up some random girl in a bar. I’m not looking to do that. If that’s all I wanted from you, I wouldn’t be putting in so much effort. I’m going to be here next week, and the week after that, and after that. I’m not going anywhere.”

There are some things you never forget. This is one of them.

From there, it didn’t go quite as well as planned. You said you weren’t going anywhere, and then you did just that. You went away, you disappeared. At least for periods of time. Like clockwork, you never failed to pop up right when I was about to write you off. When I was past the anger, past the sadness, you weaseled your way back in and the emotional roller coaster I was about to get off, sent me right back to the beginning.

I’m not sure what you wanted from me, or what you thought would happen. I chock up a lot of the disappearance to your busy schedule. I have no issues with busy, hell I’m busy all the time. It was never about the amount I saw you, but the lack of effort. So, I ended it.

I’m a firm believer that, no matter how busy you are, if you like someone enough, you want to talk to them and you want to be around them. And I guess that’s just it, you just didn’t like me enough.