There was a boy. There's always a boy, isn't there.
We'd been doing that modern thing where you're not together but you're not not together. Three months of texts that meant everything and plans that meant nothing.
We met up in DUMBO on Wednesday. His idea. Of course it was DUMBO, the most photogenic place to have your heart quietly rearranged.
We walked down to that spot on Washington Street where you can frame the Manhattan Bridge perfectly between the buildings. Tourists everywhere, all posing, all so sure of what they wanted.
I wasn't sure of anything except that I was tired.
Here's what I've learned about an almost-something. It survives on hope, and hope is exhausting to carry alone. I'd been carrying it for both of us for weeks.
We got coffee and sat by the water under the bridge, the F train rumbling overhead every few minutes, and I finally said it. "I don't think you know what you want. And I can't keep waiting to find out."
He didn't argue. That was the worst part. A man who wanted me would have argued.
My whole life I've been raised on Bollywood, on grand gestures, on Shah Rukh running through airports, on love that fights for you. I think I've been waiting for someone to run through the airport.
But real life isn't a train station reunion. Sometimes love is just a boy on a bench in DUMBO who lets you leave without a fight.
I walked to the York Street station alone. Took the F back to Brooklyn. Cried a little, quietly, the acceptable subway amount.
And somewhere around Bergen Street I realized I wasn't sad about him specifically. I was sad about the version of the story I'd invented. The almost-something I'd built entirely in my own head.
My mom got married to a man her parents chose and they've loved each other ferociously for thirty years. I get to choose, which is a privilege, but choosing means also being chosen back. And I refuse to keep settling for almost.
So I ended it under the most beautiful bridge in the city. If you're going to walk away, walk away somewhere with a good view.
I'm learning to be the one who runs through my own airport.
Don't wait for someone to be sure of you. Be sure of yourself first.
Love,