next lifetime.

[Writer’s note: Go see Past Lives. Just go. ]

Every time I scroll past his posts on Instagram, I wonder “what if?” What if he didn’t have an on-and-off situation when we met? What if I wasn’t going through the beginning stages of a life crisis and using wack men to deal with it? What if it — this thing I felt sprouting from its platonic seed — actually worked out in our favor; worked out in a way that I think we both wanted but could never make happen.

I wish the universe worked where we could right our wrongs with a snap of our fingers. I would do a lot of things differently but I’m not sure that changing the trajectory of our situation would be one of them. There was no guarantee that we’d work or that he felt that type of way about me. I just wonder if the general intrigue would have grown to actual attraction if she wasn’t in the way.

I kinda felt like her being in my way was the reason. I know my life being in the way was my reality. We wouldn’t have worked. He deserved to be with someone lightyears more stable than I was at the time. In short, I was a mess and I transferred that mess onto other people, thank God he never caught that wrath.

We had so much in common, I felt like he got my humor. I adored his ‘steez’. He seemed like the perfect gentleman who could hem me up if need be. I could bring him home to my Dad. I think my Dad would have loved him if they ever met. All my Dad wanted for me was to find someone to take care of me. He loved a blue-collar man for me. I think that’s why I love them too. Head down, off to work. Just like my Dad. Even in a white-collar facade.

We talked about futures, about changing the world. It was such a platonic conversation that I wish so bad to turn romantic. I wanted that “I would love to build a future with you…” to come from his lips. Me and dudes inside of cars was never platonic. Why did this situation have to end up like this?

I think they’re married now. She’s a beautiful girl, I get why he kept that relationship on as much as he could. I just wonder if I was on my best behavior, if I played my position, then I might be the girl he’d call when things were off. But I was that girl for so many men in my life, why would I beg to do that again. I was so happy with being an option, damn a priority.

I was barely an option and I was too gone into my own wretched mind to think about futures. Especially when the best friend thought we’d be cute together, when the auntie says that he’s the type I should try to marry. Maybe I can find another. Or maybe we can meet next lifetime. I hope that he stays around.