One of my favorite 90s movies is You’ve Got Mail. I can remember countless weekends with my signature late night cup of tea and the wonderful portrayal of the original online dating. That distinct email notification gave me hope that true love does exist out there for me or at least a half decent man … I just never thought that the internal turmoil one email can cause would chip away at my hopelessly romantic heart until I would lose almost all hope that the right guy exists.

It all began with an email from an old acquaintance. The email in question was undoubtedly platonic, and in fact, was such a pleasant surprise. I never receive personal emails, and it truly made me feel like Meg Ryan, sans the whole mystery of the man. However, I can’t even confidently say that there was no mystery to this madness that lasted for about a month and a half, because I truly had to decipher conversations and situations to make sense out of whether I was happy with the circumstances. Word to the wise, if you have a doubt about a person or a situation, that gut feeling is always the truth.

I feel like before I delve into this tale, I must first preface by saying that I mean no ill will towards this individual. I truly connected with him, more so than anyone ever. We connected on a literary level as well as an emotional level, at least for a brief stint. He made me feel special, and I wish him the best. We just weren’t on the same page no matter how much I tried to convince myself we were. The signs were all there, and I continued to ignore them.

That first email sparked a friendship. It felt easy and refreshing to talk to a man who was genuinely interested in my endeavors and what I am currently doing with my life. On some level, I knew that I had always been attracted to him, but I felt like he didn’t reciprocate.

About a week or so into our friendship, I finally got him to admit that while his intentions were platonic from day one, he had always felt an attraction towards me as well. I can’t even describe in words how reassurance can do bounds for the insecure. For the first time in my life, I felt noticed. I had butterflies, ladies and gents, and I’m not the gushy type.

A few more weeks of nonstop conversation went by, and I was happy. I was the kind of happy a puppy gets when his owner comes back from war. I was giddy and enjoying life to the fullest. We had set a date to meet in person, deciding not to put a label on anything. This was the third sign. I’m not saying that a definition is necessary to describe every encounter between a male and a female, but in this case, it was necessary. He cooked me breakfast and made me coffee – which was a plus – and it was delicious. I drove away feeling like we were making progress.

That same night, I left for the beach, and from the beach, I made my long trek back to college. However, we both decided it was worth it to see where this communicative journey would take us. That breakfast encounter really sparked an interest, and over the next few weeks, we talked all the time, whether it was over text or on the phone. I hadn’t had an hour-long conversation with anyone other than my mother since grade school.

I had let my walls slowly crumble and replaced my stony demeanor with laugh lines and crow’s feet. Even my friends and family started to notice this stark change in my persona, and they were happy for me. I became this vulnerable human, and I wasn’t used to sharing deep, personal thoughts and information with anyone, let alone someone who could relate on some level.

And here is where I started to have issues with the situation. I felt as if I was spilling all these truths and not receiving any in return. Half truths and vague mutterings about your life don’t tell me who you are as a person. That’s the scariest part of dating or even just talking to someone you’re attracted to: sharing your truths in the hope that someone will share their truths in return. It was like pulling teeth to get him to tell me how he felt. I was a blubbering idiot, and he sat back reaping the benefits of my vulnerability without ever truly committing.

And then, the story takes a sharp left into the muddle of madness I mentioned previously.

After talking for weeks again, he decided to come and visit me. Once more I need to pause and preface this portion by stating that I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. This man was driving a significant distance to spend some quality time with me, and I appreciated and enjoyed every minute of it. I would also like to point out, that I repeatedly told him that he didn’t have to make that trip just to see me, but he insisted if I was okay with it. And I was okay with it. I truly felt like he cared and that this trip was another step in the right direction.

It turns out I was wrong. Before the trip, we had a conversation about where this was going; essentially, we talked about the future. And let me tell you, I was all in. I was ready to commit to a relationship, and do you know what he told me? He basically said that he isn’t over his ex-girlfriend yet, and if I gave him time, he would be ready to commit. And herein lies the fourth and final straw.

I decided to give him a few more weeks. I’m not the type who likes to be strung along, and that’s what this situation ultimately morphed into. After his one-day physical appearance in my day-to-day, I barely heard from him, and if I did hear from him, it was because I texted first. At this point, I felt an immense frustration and truly slighted.

He just kept telling me that I had nothing to worry about and that I was overthinking everything. What was I supposed to think considering he wasn’t telling me how he truly felt about me, about the visit, about where he thought this was going. When I start talking to a potential date, I preface by stating my intentions and who I am as a person. I’m not down to lessen myself or change parts of me to fit the agenda and needs of the male species. And I can’t even blame myself this time for being naïve because I didn’t use Tinder. This was a genuine chance encounter that flourished in the type face of an email.

My mind started racing, and now that I’m reflecting, I’m realizing that this would have never worked. I started to think the worst; I thought well maybe he wasn’t as different and genuine as I assumed. What if he only wanted to use me and throw me aside? What if he’s ghosting me? What if, what if, what if? All of these “what ifs” were the lightbulb moment when I finally figured out that I deserve better.

I don’t deserve days of silence because you’re “busy.” Anyone who knows me on a personal level knows that I barely have a moment to myself. I’m pulling 35- hour work weeks on top of classes, an internship, and a thesis, yet I was still trying to make time to get to know this man, pushing aside the distance because I cared.

What really threw me over the edge and fueled the innate desire to blog about my life status was a text that came through the wires late last night. Because my shifts start before dawn, I happened to notice the message at 2 a.m., and I am so proud of my deliriously profound response to his bull rebuttal to my admittance that I feel an issue exists and that things have shifted in whatever it is we were doing.

In short, he told me I was being petty, that he never intended to lead me on, and that I needed to realize that after long day at work, he likes to nap, eat, and go to bed. Apparently, I wasn’t even a thought anymore, yet he consumed a lot of mine. I read this grammatically incorrect and muddled text in stride and essentially told him that by telling me that he wanted to see where this went was him confirming that he was interested, hence, leading me on. I also stated that what he perceives as “petty” is me communicating my anger at the fact that I’m not as special as a nap. The real issue though is that he literally led me on for over a month knowing that he still felt some type of way about another woman.

I don’t have time to be second best or some confidante you can tell your woes to. I deserve someone who will treat me like the woman I am. I deserve respect and conversation and a genuine interest into the happenings of my everyday because if you cared, you would want to know about the great things happening in my life.

After this “experience” I’m about ready to throw in the towel on dating. I’m sick and tired of continual disappointment, especially from men I thought were better than the crude and sexually driven men with little to know morals who keep entering and exiting my life. I’m not saying that this man fits that description, but I honestly don’t care anymore. I’m proud of myself for staying true to my morals and beliefs and femininity. There is always a beautiful mind behind a pretty face, and not many men want to reach beyond the surface. And that’s fine, but just know that if you cross me, I will write about it because I have every right to spill my truths. If what I portray paints you in a bad light, maybe you need to do some soul searching and reflection about what you did wrong and how you treat women.

I know this was a lot to divulge in a blog, but I felt it was necessary to tell my side. As women, I think our truths are lessened because men will find a way to make it our fault even if we are straightforward from day one. I’ve never lied about an intention or what I want. I’ve said it before, I know that one-night stands and random hook ups do not reflect the truly beautiful human I am. If I succumb, I’m only hurting myself, and I’m stronger than that. From now on, I’m putting men on the back burner and focusing on me, one day, and one cup of coffee at a time.