Last summer, I more or less went to Toronto to see about a boy. We met in a Starbucks on a Friday night, then spent the weekend together, walking along the lakefront at night and then lying in bed watching Sarah Silverman and eating takeout Tim Horton’s. He cried in the parking garage when I got in my car to leave.
I got back home. We IM’d the next night, as we had every night for the three weeks prior to my trip. And then, nothing. School started. It was going to be impossible to see each other or build a relationship. Etc. Etc. I sent him a package for his birthday. He sent me a package for Christmas. A t-shirt. A mix tape.
I found out from OkCupid that he was “seeing someone.” We e-mailed a bit. He and the guy broke up after a few months. We e-mailed a bit more. And now? I’ve never spent so much time thinking about someone I spent so little time with.
In a random Gmail search tonight, I came across an e-mail he sent me last summer, shortly after we met online, before I drove to Canada. “This song is incredible,” he wrote, and attached Kelly Clarkson’s “Already Gone.” Why can’t I listen?
