Life · Love · Poetry

A Letter to the Boy I Like


Dear ____,

We met not long ago. I first saw you on my friends’ Instagram, a picture of the two of you together smiling wide. I instantly wondered who you were. Fast forward to a month later, and we’re both cast in a show at our community theatre. I’m ecstatic.

We slowly become friends; I learn about you and you learn about me, though I think I learn a bit more, because I like to ask questions and you seem to like answering them. I learned you had a girlfriend. I didn’t really enjoy learning that. Still, I continued to become your friend. If I couldn’t date you, I would allow myself the pleasure of your presence and conversation, your warm laugh and bright eyes.

Between Saturday shows was time for the cast to eat dinner, and we started getting food together on those Saturdays. Granted, other people started coming along, but it was nice while it lasted. I learned that you like jazz and rap- an odd combination, but I could see how it suited you. I learned that you were a good driver, for the most part.

We were cast in another show together, and I just got happier yet. I continued learning things about you; you swam on your schools swim team, you play the saxophone, you sing in a jazz choir. You are funny and kind and considerate and honest. You also dropped me at a rehearsal for the show! I know you remember, because it comes up a lot. We were doing a move where I fall, and you were supposed to catch me. I fell, but instead of you catching me, the black wooden floor did. I remember thinking that I should’ve been embarrassed, but instead I felt only joy. I’m still not sure why. Since then, you haven’t dropped me once.

Last weekend, you told me your girlfriend broke up with you. You didn’t know why, and honestly, I don’t either. I can’t think of a single thing that would make me break up with you, had I been given the chance to date you. You’re compassionate, talented, good-looking, smart, and gentle. Sure, you’re often busy, but you’re never angry, never argumentative or stern. You two had just gone to Disneyland together. You two had been dating for over a year. It sounds like I was rooting for the two of you, and in a way, I was. She made you happy, and that’s what I love seeing in you; joy.

She broke up with you on a Wednesday, and you told me on a Friday. That Saturday, after our evening show, we sat in your car and ate ice cream until 11:30pm. In those moments I was so happy; we were doing something together, something nice and normal and kind of teenager-ish. And even though there was a bit of doubt stirring around in my mind, I decided to ignore it for the time being. I wanted to enjoy this little sliver of attention from you, this time where nobody could interrupt what I was saying or tell a funnier story than me.

Later that school week we’re texting about who knows what, and all of a sudden you ask me if I’ve seen that new movie Split. Knowing it’s a horror movie, I want to lie and say yes so I don’t have to watch it, but hoping you’ll ask me to see it, I tell you no. Lo and behold, you ask me if I want to see it with you. We set a date, and now it’s planned. A movie. With a cute boy? I was having a hard time not screaming this news from the rooftops.

This day is approaching, and I don’t know how it will go. I hope you won’t cancel, or think I’m annoying afterwards, or wish you hadn’t spent the evening with me. But no matter what, I will respect any choice you make. Maybe you decide on that first date-not-date that I’m not the girl you thought I was. That’s okay. Sure, I won’t be exactly happy, but I will be glad that you’re putting yourself first.

Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself here. I guess we’ll see how the movie goes? Until this weekend of shows, I bid you goodbye.

With deep fondness,


Originally written February 13, 2017


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