How Many Times Must I Be Ghosted to Find 'the One?'

I want to start by saying, I don’t hate men. There are good men out there. I'm just beginning to believe I simply have poor taste in men, which results in my continuous cycle of meeting someone, getting attached, then getting hurt, and watching them leave. I have yet to break that cycle. For four years, almost five now, I have felt nothing but disappointment. I may have felt happiness at some points, but, it never lasted long.

On that topic, I would also like to say, I am no saint. I have done my fair share of ghosting. But, we all have our reasons, and someone is always likely to find themselves hurt in the end. I'm just sick and tired of it always being me.

It all started with a boy named... well, let's just call him Todd. I fell fast, and I fell hard. He was your typical "skater boy," with long brown hair, big brown eyes, and a smile that's hard to ignore. There was your generic subtle flirting in class, as well as your "not-so-subtle flirting over text when we were at home." Eventually, we hung out outside of school. He was the first boy I ever had a sexual encounter with. I was just fourteen years old at the time. I was naive and stupid. I thought that if I did something sexual for this dumb boy, he would fall for me, too.

That’s what I do... I get attached to people so quickly, when given the smallest amount of affection. I'll do everything for them, and I'll fantasize so deeply about what life would be like with a boy by my side, that I eventually get lost in my own head and think that they’re all about me, before they even are.

It’s not clear how it ended between us. I remember it got silent between us after I gave him what we wanted. I remember he would flirt with girls in class, and I would just watch, from the other side of the room, then cry about it when I got home. I would try my best to talk to him, I would text him all the time, but, he never gave me what I wanted. His attention. One day, I grew completely sick of it. I asked him if he was interested in anyone else. He told me to calm down because we weren’t dating.

Now that is what I absolutely hate. When a boy tells me, “We’re not together, you know?” We aren’t? I didn’t know that. Believe me, I really didn’t. I mean, come on... I think I would know that. I told him that I was well aware we weren’t together, but that I liked him, and I didn’t appreciate having to watch him flirt with every single in front of me. He told me that he wasn’t interested in me and that I would just have to accept it. I called him an asshole and told him to have a good life, before blocking him. We never spoke again after that.

That whole experience with Todd taught me that giving up what I have to offer so easily, will only end in disaster. Did I listen to what I learned? I most definitely did not.

This brings us to our next boy. Picture this; it's the end of grade nine. I’m in gym class. The teacher decides that since it’s the last gym class of the year, we should all get into a circle, and compliment each other. I went first. Eventually, it gets to a certain boy. His name will be Eric. Tall, dark, handsome. I’ve always found him very attractive, but I was always too shy to say anything to him, of course. I looked at him and watched the most unexpected thing exit his mouth. “Uh… You’re cute.” Everyone lost their shit. Even the gym teacher. I was losing my shit as well, but only internally. I just smiled and waited until it was his turn, to call him cute as well. He ended up adding me online later that week, and we started to talk. Immediately, I was captivated by him. He was so smooth with his words. After only a few days of talking, he was telling me that if I ever needed to get away for a while, he would pack his bags, and leave with me. I’ve never had a boy show such interest in me before, so naturally, I believed every word he said to me. We ended up deciding to see each other before our last exam of the year. We met up and went to this field to sit and talk. He told me that he was always so curious about me, because I was so pretty, but so quiet, and nobody truly knew who I was, therefore he always wanted to get to know me. I wasn’t that much of an exciting person, but there were things to me that nobody truly knew about. I told him I liked to write, and he asked me what about. I told him that I liked to create stories because I had such a big imagination. He asked me to tell him about a story I’ve written, but I refused because I never told anyone what I wrote about. It was very personal. And I’ve always been too embarrassed to share it with the world because I’ve always been afraid of criticism. He told me he understood. He was a very understanding boy.

During that time together at the field, we both talked about each other, our interests, our hobbies. We really got to know each other.

He’s also the first boy that asked if he could get a kiss. Every other boy I've ever kissed before would just do it, without warning. We kissed, and it felt amazing. I felt more with that one kiss we shared than everything that I had done with Todd. Eric left hickeys on my neck and chest, and I was terrified because I knew people would see them. But at the same time, I didn't care. I was excited. Eventually, time ran out, so we left. Over the next few weeks, we hung out as often as we could, texted each other as much as we could. I started to catch feelings for him so hard, but I had no idea if he felt the same at all. One day, the day, we met up and went to his friend’s house. It was vacant, because his friend’s family went on vacation, and he gave Eric an extra key to share amongst his friends so they could all hang out at the house. We went to the master bedroom and talked for a while. Eventually, one thing led to another, and I lost my virginity to him. I was still, fourteen years old.

I used to think that losing your virginity was some big thing and that there would be fireworks, and everything would feel just… perfect. That day I also learned that that was a load of bullshit. It hurt, I was uncomfortable, I just wanted it to end. I think he understood that I wasn't enjoying myself as much as he was, so we stopped, and decided to just hang out. He made me food, we sat, and watched TV. One of his friends came over, and I was left alone in the room with him while Eric went to the bathroom. His friend told me, “You know he really likes you, right? He talks about you all the time.” I couldn’t stop smiling. I was so happy. It was finally confirmed. He did like me as much as I liked him.

The next time we hung out, I ended up telling him about one of the stories that I was writing. I felt comfortable around him enough to say it. He smiled and just watched me in awe, and told me that it sounded great. He was the first person I really explained a story of mine to, like that.

The next week, we tried it again. This time, having sex with him felt amazing. Things with Eric felt great. I really felt like we were together, though it was never said. I was so happy. Up until I stopped hearing from him.

One day, suddenly, I realized he blocked me. He was gone. I couldn't call or text him. He blocked my number as well. He disappeared. My friends said that they would contact him for me, but I refused their offers. I knew that it wouldn’t do anything. I’d rather just get over it now instead of feeling more pain, knowing he would ignore them too, if they tried. I couldn’t believe him. I gave him so much, and he too just left.

That experience broke me. I cried for months. And by months, I mean I cried over him for five whole months. I hated him. I couldn’t believe he did that to me. Having gone through that, I told myself that I wouldn’t let myself fall for another guy. It would just hurt me. "And how did that go?" you may ask me. Well... I didn't listen to myself at that time, either.

Grade ten approached, and I kept to myself. I didn’t want to focus on any guy. I needed to just focus on myself. That is until I started talking to someone that we will refer to as Tom. You see, Tom and I had a little “thing,” in grade seven. We “dated,” but I put quotations around it because, it was two months, and we were thirteen. That does not count as a real “relationship,” no matter what anyone says. We were cute, though. We both had these little crushes on each other, and hung out at the mall. I think the most “scandalous” thing we had done at the time was sip a smoothie from the same straw.

Tom changed a lot since grade seven. He was, I guess, a little more attractive. He got taller, his voice got deeper. We started by texting each other every once in a while, to texting almost every single night, as well as flirting a little. It was all a little weird, but, I was really lonely and I liked having a guy to talk to, even if it was Tom. Eventually, we thought it’d be a good idea to hang out. We went to the park and made out the entire time. But it was freezing outside, so we didn’t hang out for long. A few days later, I snuck him into my room late at night. We had sex. I took his virginity. It wasn’t good, but... it was something.

I remember I was fixing my hair in the mirror, and he came up behind me, and hugged me. He looked at us in the mirror and said, “Wow, we make such a cute couple.” I had mixed emotions when he said that to me. I thought it was really odd that he said that to me, but, I also thought it was sort of sweet. A few days go by, and we’re talking more and more. I was beginning to feel more interest towards him, and I didn’t know how to feel about it. We hung out again, and had sex a second time. This time, it was a little better, but not by much. One day I remember so clearly, because I still have no idea what actually happened, things ended. I was in school, and my friend came to me and said, “So, I know you and Tom have a thing going on. But in class, he was showing everyone this hickey that he had. Did you give that to him?” I didn’t. I never gave hickeys, in fact, I found them pretty annoying. That night, I messaged him and asked him to explain. He said not to worry, because his friend gave it to him as a dare, but she has a boyfriend, so it doesn’t matter. I called bullshit and he said, "You know we're not dating, right? I can technically do what I want." We're not dating? Huh. Who would've thought...

Things between him and I got strange, very quickly, and eventually, I started to pretend he just didn’t exist, as he pretended I no longer existed. It was a little hard, because his locker was right beside me, to the left. But, I stopped caring, because I didn’t even like him that much. I was angry simply because what he did to me was so disrespectful.

To the right of my locker, was someone we will name Tate. I have to condense this story, even though this story is barely even over. It all started by him asking me if I could send him the answers to our history homework. So, he gave me his Snapchat, and I went home, and sent it to him that night. He thanked me, then we started to talk, and he called me cute. He said we should hang out sometime. December 26th. I will always remember that date, no matter what. It was a cool day. We talked about one another, and how we view love and relationships. He was the first guy I’d ever met that was in touch with his opinions and had a very certain way of thinking. From the first day, I truly admired the way that he viewed the world. That same day, I gave him a handjob, and he came on my stomach. Who knew that would be the beginning of my first love. The next few months that went by were super peaceful. We hung out once, maybe twice a week, religiously. We had sex every chance we got. But it wasn't just sex that we had. We built a friendship. He didn’t leave. He actually stuck around and was interested in getting to know me. We talked about anything and everything. I started to catch feelings for him, but I could tell the feeling wasn’t mutual for him. He liked me, I knew he did, but I started to crave more from him than just friends with benefits. But of course, I wouldn’t say anything. I didn’t want to scare him off. This went on for basically a year. By the summer, things started to change.

I noticed he was into me more. He was all about me. He always wanted to see me, touch me, and talk to me. There was one night, he had his hands on my hips, as he sat on the edge of my bed, and he was looking at me, as I stood in between his legs. “So… are we a thing?” He asked me. I’ll never forget those words. I smiled, and my heart felt like it exploded. But in the best way possible. I asked, “Well, are we?” He said we were. We were together for over a year. It was great. I was truly, honestly in love with him. He made me happy. He made me feel like the only girl in the world. We went on cute dates, he took me to all the best spots. I really loved being with him. He brought me this total comfort that I couldn’t get with anybody else. I always wanted to be around him. I missed him any second that we weren’t together. He was the first boy I ever said "I love you" to. I never doubted us... until the day that he made me.

I couldn’t tell you what date, but he called me and told me he didn’t know how he felt anymore. I kid you not, I almost threw up on the other line. I asked him why. I begged him to not do this. He told me he wasn’t going to do anything irrational. But he did. He told me he thought it’d be best if we took a break. That lasted about a week… We couldn’t even leave each other alone. He came right back to me. Things were fine after that, they went back to normal. But a little bit of my trust left. I was afraid he would do it again. But I tried to never think about it.

I did everything for him. I wrote him love letters, did everything humanly possible for him. Of course, he did the same for me. But there was always something missing there, but I could never put my finger on it. I didn’t want to, though. I loved him, and that’s all I knew. Quite a lot of time went by, before again, the same exact thing happened. He told me he couldn’t do it. He told me that he tried to do it, but he couldn’t. So that was it. We were done, again. But then, of course, he came right back. We met up, and had a two-hour long talk in the park about how we both felt. I begged for him to come back. I told him I know he loves me, he’s probably just lost. I told him to let me help him. Just accept that someone wants to help you and love you. He told me that his mind is his own worst enemy. After more hours of talking, he told me that he really wanted to kiss me. I told him to do it. So, he did. We got back together the next day.

Things were really good after that. I stopped being scared that he would leave me. I really believed that that talk we had in the park was my true breakthrough with him. Months went by, and I was back in love with him like nothing ever happened. Like he never hurt me. I looked at him like he was the love of my life, and I didn’t need anything else. In my heart, I knew that I wanted to share my life with him. I wanted to marry him one day. Have his kids one day. But weirdly enough, I never heard him talk about those things. He did once or twice, but I guess he had never been serious about it…

Because not too long after my birthday, a month after my birthday to be exact, he broke my heart for the third time. He came over and sat me down and told me he doesn’t want to do this anymore. He wants to see other people, eventually. He wants to do his own thing. We’re growing in two different directions. Everything he said was a load of horse shit to me. Every word that left his mouth made me want to punch him in the face. I was sobbing, begging him to stay, but he had no intentions of doing so. He told me that in his heart, he hopes that I can forgive him and we could be friends one day. I told him it won’t happen. He left.

That was the last time that I saw him, for a whole month. Until eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. I thought long and hard about it. About how I felt towards him. I was mad at him. But, I forgave him mentally for what he had done. But, I did miss our friendship. I did want to hear from him, to see how he was doing. So, I texted him. He texted me back, we made small talk for a while before we decided we should hang out soon.

Before that happened, there was a lot of meaningless flirting and sex with guys. I snuck a random guy that I had known for maybe two-three weeks, into my room, and we had sex. It was horrible and I was so happy when he left. I never spoke to him again after that. There was a random boy I made out with for ten whole minutes in an elevator because I was just craving some form of male attention. It was horrible.

Tate and I met up, and there was a definite weird energy in the air. We walked around my neighbourhood, and just talked about what’s been going on between us lately. It was nothing crazy, just small talk, like over the phone. One night, he asked me what I was up to. He told me he had nothing to do, so he would drive to my house on his bike and hang out. That’s what he did. But, so much more happened. We hung out for a while outside my backdoor and just talked. When he got up to leave, I went in for a hug, but he went in for a kiss. I kissed him back. He asked if he could come in. I told myself not to, but, I couldn’t help myself, and I let him in. We had sex again for the first time in over a month. It felt great but, I felt so weird after. I guess I felt almost guilty? I could see we both felt weird about it but we agreed we’ve been wanting and needing that. Some time went by before I asked him to hang out. He agreed, and we roamed the streets of a familiar neighbourhood late at night, before ending up at his grandmother’s place. He was watching her house while she was away. We ended up having sex. Again. But this time, I really wanted it just as much as he did. We had a long, deep talk after. He told me that he wants me but he doesn’t know why he won’t let himself have me. He told me a lot of other stuff too, that I believed, but, I guess I shouldn’t have.

We both told each other that we want to make an effort in fixing things. We wanted to work on us. Maybe get back together sometime. He told me he knows we’re going to be together soon, but, it’ll take time, and we need to work on it. A good month, maybe two went by. I started to not see a difference. I didn’t see any effort. I saw nothing. I asked him one day, what was going on. He told me that he changed his mind, he doesn’t feel that way anymore. He loves me, and he’ll always be there for me and always be my friend, but he just doesn’t have any interest in working on us anymore, because he doesn’t want a girlfriend. I was mad as hell, but I eventually got over it. Although I was salty about it, we continued to hang out and have sex. But I just kept in mind that he doesn’t like me like that, so I have to get over that, and not keep falling for him.

Again, that went on for another month or two, until he messaged me one random night, telling me that he can’t have sex with me anymore, because it makes him feel bad about himself. I was so confused, but at that point, I was completely done. I wasn’t going to fight for someone that didn’t want me. I told him to do whatever he wanted to do. He rambled on and on for a little while longer, but I truly had nothing to say to him. We didn’t talk for a while, until our habits crept back. But this time, we kept it very friendly, no flirting, we didn’t even hang out. We were really, truly friends now.

So, me being me, I was craving male attention. I started to talk to someone new. And here, we bring in Max.

Now, this boy hit me out of nowhere. He was so dreamy. He stood at 6’4, curly brown hair. He was a pretty light skinned boy, with pretty brown eyes. He honestly resembled Tate, but I chose to overlook that. We hit it off pretty quickly, texted all day, every day. We face timed almost every night, and I was really starting to like him. He made me happy. He made me forget about Tate. We ended up hanging out. We kissed, and it was honestly really good. Eventually, we hung out again. We ended up having sex, but it was awful. I did not like it at all. I was hoping and praying for it to be over. When he left, I told myself that I would give him a second chance, but if he didn’t impress me, then I would stop talking to him.

I was looking for a good friends with benefits relationship. Something that Tate and I had. I didn't want a “boyfriend/girlfriend” relationship, and I let him know that. He said he didn't either. So, we continued to talk, and it was going alright. I went over to his house, and we had sex again. This time, it was good. He definitely got better. After that day, everything just got better between us. He would always tell me that I was his favourite, he missed me, I’m gorgeous, he wants me to be his. We had sex I believe two or three times after that. I started to catch feelings for him, honestly. I was starting to really like him. He was sweet to me, he made me happy. Everything was so good, up until it just wasn’t anymore. I noticed he wasn’t talking to me as much, he would only message me if I messaged him first, and even if he did answer, it would always be very blunt to where you couldn’t even keep the conversation going. I was getting mad. Why was he all over me last week, but this week he’s acting like I don’t exist? I messaged him and asked him what was up. He told me that he’s into me, but he just doesn’t know what he wants, so he doesn’t know how to act with me. I told him that I don’t know what I want either, all I know is that I like hanging out with him, and that I don’t want to date him, but I am into him as well. He said he agreed and he would try to text me more. I told him, don’t play me, don’t have me looking stupid out here. I’m tired of feeling like that. He said, “Okay, don’t play me either.”

A few days go by, and all I can pay attention to is the fact that nothing has changed. He’s not even texting me at all. I messaged him yet again, asking why he’s being so different with me. I got the same response as last time. “I don’t know what I want, I like you but I moved too fast and now I’m confused and I don’t know how to act. It feels weird if I don’t text you all day, but it feels weird if I do text you all day. I don’t want to drag you along, though. But I also don’t want to end on bad terms.” I went off on him and told him that he was a dick, and I couldn’t believe how he can go from adoring me, to not wanting to talk to me at all because he “doesn’t know what he wants.” That’s a load of bullshit to me. I stopped talking to him, because I knew that it would just make me madder. I messaged my friend to tell her what happened, and she told me that he already went to her, and told her that we weren’t talking anymore because things just weren’t working out, and that he had to let me go. I lost my mind. He was acting as if I was all over him and wanted a relationship with him this whole time. I couldn’t believe that. He used me. I gave him what he wanted until he was satisfied, and now, he was done. I unfollowed him, unfriended him on everything, and he then blocked me. His friends all requested to follow me, strangely enough. It’s funny to see that he wants nothing to do with me, yet he wants his friends to follow me so that he could still see what I’m up to. It’s absolutely ridiculous.

A few days had gone by, and Tate and I decide to hang out. I told myself that we shouldn’t have sex, since Tate said he feels bad about himself when he does it. But that was also over a month ago... So, I also mentally prepared myself to have sex with him, because I truly missed it. I missed our sex. So, we hung out, and everything was pretty normal at the start. But of course eventually, we had sex. We had sex five times, actually. You can tell we made up for lost time. He said that every time he had sex with someone, it was just a disappointment. But me, I'm so good. Hearing that from him doesn't make me feel anything, because he said that to me the last time we broke up. I don't necessarily believe anything he says, because I don't have the energy to. So, I have no idea what’s going on.

At this point, I’m expecting the disappointment to come at any given moment. But, I'm still hoping it doesn't. In my heart, I know that I want him, and I want to be with him. But, he just does so many things that piss me off. I suppose... I must go with the flow and see what happens between him and I. I'm not waiting for him, but I'm not looking for anything.

So, I would like to conclude by saying, I do not know how many times I have to be ghosted, and disappointed, in order to find "the one." Because "that one" could be anyone. Nobody knows. That one could be Tate, or it could be someone random, that comes along and steals my heart. I secretly hope it's Tate, but, I've decided to not care. I think I just shouldn't care who "the one" ends up being. We all get ghosted. We all go through sticky situations. That's why I don't view the times I've been ghosted as negative experiences. I view them as things that shape me into who I am today, and how I react to certain situations. Everything happens for a reason. I need to remember that.