I thought I’d forgotten the feeling,
of the phrase ‘I like you, but…’.
Yet it’s one that’s all-too familiar today,
– scars opened by another fresh cut.
And though it hasn’t drawn too deep,
it still reminds me what it’s like.
When all-too familiar ‘buts’ fill your ears,
just another memory to add to the strike.
Can I dig deep again and pull myself out,
of the depths where these ‘buts’ take me –
or do I give in and wave my white flag now,
before these buts eventually break me?
Am I a poet yet?
I’m not much of a poet.
In fact, I’m no poet at all – unless you count the parody I wrote about the best Ben & Jerry’s of my life. But last week, as I walked the same, familiar steps home from work, I found myself voice-noting my best friend. With the daft idea of becoming a spoken word artist.
Now, that’s a wholeheartedly unserious idea – yet words were spinning in my brain trying to make sense of reading another ‘I like you, but…’ text. And trying to treat the too-familiar symptoms of rejection before they turned into a full-blown girl flu.
At the time, the spinning words seemed to fall into a sort of rhythm – they’re the ones you’ve just read above. I’m quietly pleased at how they turned out. But I’m loudly gutted about the heaviness of another almost-starter, and how it’s weighed me down.
I’m not angry, I’m disappointed
It’s two-fold why.
First and foremost, I decided to stop looking for dates back in October 2023 after I got properly ghosted for the very first time. Ghoster and I found common ground from the get-go – we laughed with ease, making our own in-jokes. We stayed for another two, three drinks, despite it being a school night – don’t they same time flies when you’re having fun? I even gave myself a coy smile in the loo mirror because this guy didn’t just seem like a good one, but was a hot one, too.
Yet every high has its comedown. And these few hours of ecstasy simply weren’t worth the mental torment that followed when I didn’t hear a word from him. Not a single one. Whoever said ignorance is bliss had never been on a date with this guy.
I said it was two-fold why I’m feeling gutted. Second is that being let down by a man this year wasn’t part of the plan – I’m not looking to date, remember. So I suppose whoever said ‘it happens when you’re not looking’ is right. Though it wasn’t strictly part of the plan, I could deal with it starting to happen. But I’d turned a blind eye to how soon the ‘but’ could come. That really wasn’t part of the plan.
Thezza-p
I’ve been seeing a therapist for over half a year now, and I’m making lots of progress in so many areas. We might get into that another time, but for now I’ll guess you might be surprised that my romantic life (or lack of, ha!) isn’t front and centre of the sessions.
At all.
(There are bigger and better things that I need to unpick other than the relentless mind games that come with men. But as Taylor Swift just told us, it’s the worst men we write best. This guy was also another to joke about whether I’d write about him – and here we are.)
The noise of his silence after he’d told me he liked me, but grew louder with every day that passed, the grip of disappointment getting even tighter. I knew I needed to find it in me (again) to overpower it, to release some of the pressure before I inevitably suffocated into a small depression.
So, I found myself doing my own sort of validation exercise. (For those that don’t know too much about the therapy world – and I can only speak from my experience – you do a lot of talking or crying and they ask a lot of questions to unlock what it is you’re really saying and/or validate what you’re crying about.) What came out as I leaned into these thoughts was quite freeing.
Validation stations at the ready
In my adult life, no matter how many times I’ve been left devastated because I’m not ‘enough’ for someone, I’ve always tried to pass it off as something that’s by the by – one of the hurdles everyone competing in the dating Olympics jumps over at least once. (Or trips up.) But let’s unpick that for a moment.
Being told you’re not ‘enough’ – in whichever way it’s said, be it aloud, via WhatsApp, passed on by a friend of a friend – is a knock to the fundamentals of you. Maybe you’re not enough because of the way you react to certain situations. Maybe it’s because you’re not as intelligent as they hoped – or you’re too intelligent for them. Maybe it’s how you behave after a few drinks. Maybe it’s your family. Maybe it’s your friends.
Maybe it’s the way you look in that trench coat – “because Gabs, don’t you know it makes you look fat?”
Rewiring
I’m so proud of how far I’ve come in therapy over the last six months. Because it really isn’t easy. Granted, untangling the knot that is my head with someone who’s able to help me rewire it to be a little less CHAOS and a little more c a l m is freeing.
But it’s also devastating.
Raw.
Exhausting.
So I think it’s no wonder that when I decided to lean – like, really lean – into why reading yet another ‘I like you, but…’ text sends me into such a spiral, I could validate it this time. Not excuse it, or flippantly act brave, or pass it off as by the by. But actually stop for a moment and acknowledge the devastating weight of it.
Because when you’ve read the list of reasons (below) that guys have tagged onto the end of the phrase ‘I like you, but…’ and sent my way, I think you might feel a little heavier, too.
Liking someone but not liking them enough is part of the course – sure. Ultimately, you only really need one person to like you enough. But when will not being liked enough cease, and stop overtaking everything else in every race I ever join in the hope of crossing the finish line with a happily ever after?
Reasons boys like me, but…
…I’m just not sure I’m as ready for a relationship as I thought I was.
But I’d prefer to get back with my ex instead.
But that trench coat makes you look fat*.
(*This one deserves all the air time it can get because it was truly awful. And it’s a moment that replays itself every time I open my wardrobe. Because I still wear it. Spoiler: It doesn’t make me look fat.)
But I’m not sexually attracted to you. But you’ve got a great personality…!
But I’m not sure I expected to like you as much as I do.
But I wouldn’t be bothered if I woke up tomorrow morning and never saw you again.
But I’m not sure why we can’t push onto the next phase… (…but you are super lovely so can we stay in touch?)
But you don’t look like the other girls on Instagram.
But there’s something missing.
But I think I see us more as friends, I hope that’s OK? And I’d still like to play tennis!
But I think it’s an issue of timing.
But by no means am I sacking you off, I think I just need some time to work out what I want.
But I didn’t expect this to get as serious as it has so soon.
But I’m really scared, and I’d much rather run away.
I liked you, too. But…
…look above. Look at all the reasons I’ve been liked before, but. All the rejection I’ve ever burdened – will ever burden, in fact. All the reasons I’ve been given to be scared. All the moments I’ve wanted to run away.
It wasn’t part of the plan, but I was prepared to do it all again. And for this person, too.
I won’t stop until I’ve found my happily ever after.
Seeing this last ‘I like you’ message pop up on my phone, I took a breath. Prepared for the ‘but’. And inevitably, it came.
Did you really think you’re the only one with reasons to be scared?
When I’m in my happily ever after, it will be the happiest ever after you’ve even seen. It just won’t be today.
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