“What’s your major again?”
Yours is aerospace engineering and you want to work for NASA in Huntsville. But you couldn’t remember mine, nor could you even recollect want I wanted to do in the future. This question, so casual in nature, and yet, this truly signified the end. Or at least, this was the end for me.
You couldn’t even remember my major. You probably couldn’t remember my middle name, where I’m from, what noises bother me. You likely can’t remember my favorite color or my favorite movie, nor could you remember my favorite band.
And yet, I had been so infatuated with you; or rather, the idea of you. I thought that you were who I wanted to travel with, to see concerts with, and to ultimately spend my life with. I thought I could picture our time together, seeing it lay out like a time line right before my eyes. But this was not our time line, and you were not who I thought you were.
In my mind, you were this goofy, smart guy who always went out of his way to say hello and talk to me. You were the guy who kept up with my life and seemed to really want to be a part of it. You matched my wit and we shared similar loves for obscure indie-alt bands. We agreed on the benefits of being an only kid, and we laughed at the same raunchy jokes. I was so obsessed with the idea of you that it was hard for me to picture my life without you in it.
But here we are. Your number is no longer in my phone. I no longer send you music suggestions and I no longer eagerly wait for you to acknowledge my presence. You have a new girlfriend, and I have focused my attention on other things. We have both moved on. But there was still that small part of me that clung to you and the idea that you would one day send me that text or call or show up at my door and tell me you felt the same way I did.
I suppose I needed to fully realize how little you understood and cared for me in order to process that there was a life beyond you. Asking me about my major, something I know we have each talked about a countless number of times, was the wake-up call I needed. So thank you for that, truly.
Maybe this ending will ultimately bring about the new beginning I’ve been desperately hoping for. Here’s to wishful thinking.