2020: A Ghost Story

I am very much someone who wants to be loved. I try to be realistic about it. I don't want the fairytale; I just want someone I can love who will love me in return. I don't expect a love without fights or flaws; I know that perfection doesn't exist, especially when two different lives converge. Growing up, I didn't have many good examples of a healthy relationship. My mom and dad divorced when I was two and a half; my mom eventually remarried, but their relationship was far from perfect. Some of my earliest memories are of them fighting and my mom packing me into the car in the middle of the night. Things really turned sour for them once my brother was diagnosed with autism. Whatever love had once existed between them was replaced with anger and bitterness. Their fighting became more frequent and intensified. Even though they hate each other, they still live together for my brother's sake. I always knew that that was not the kind of love that I wanted for myself.

Back in 2020 while the rest of the world was panicking, unsure of what was to come as COVID infected the world and life as we knew it was shattered, I met a guy. We'd started talking on Grindr; I always thought that he was out of my league. I don't think I'm ugly, but he was extremely handsome, resembling Andrew Rannells. I was surprised when, one night, he agreed to stop into the pizzeria where I work and get food. He told me he was driving home from a trip downstate; it turned out, he had been visiting Chesterfield, my hometown. I took this as a sign that good things were on the horizon for me.

His name was Terrence. When I first saw him in person, I was in awe. He was skinny, with a great sense of fashion. He was wearing acid washed skinny jeans with a matching vest over a yellow t-shirt and white kicks. His twin dangly earrings topped the look off. He ended up ordering quite a lot of food and buying several DVDs from the movie store in our lobby; there was a going-out-of-business sale. Conversation was easy, which is rare for me. Within a minute of him leaving, I got a text saying that he had really enjoyed meeting me and that he was hoping we could hang out again.

The next week, we hung out in his SUV in the parking lot outside the shop. I didn't want to bring anyone home with me -- my uncle did not want my "boyfriends" around his kids, and I didn't want to risk one of us bringing COVID around my eighty-three-year-old grandmother. We talked for hours; I learned that he had once been overweight, that every boyfriend he'd ever had had cheated on him and/or been physically abusive. He worked as a waiter at the Applebee's near me as well as the one in Chesterfield. Terrence was the kind of person who wanted to work; he'd go weeks without a day off. Since the pandemic had shut down most of the country, he was laid off and was adjusting to the big change in his life. While we were cuddling that night, he got aroused. I ended up giving him head; he had a great cock, but his cum was vile. Before we said our goodbyes, we made plans to see each other again soon.

That weekend, he went to Grand Rapids to see friends and stopped responding to my texts. I was convinced that I had ruined any chance of a relationship by giving him head too soon, but it had been what he'd wanted. Even though I was turning thirty that year, I was still emotionally immature when it came to relationships. I had never been on a date yet, and my sexual experience was limited to one or two Grindr hookups a year. There was something about Terrence though; I really liked him. He was so sweet to me that I couldn't help but develop a crush.

A couple of nights later I stupidly locked my keys in my car. The spare set was in my bedroom at home; I didn't know my new boss well enough yet to ask if he'd mind giving me a ride home to grab them. I decided to take a chance and try Terrence again. Surprisingly, he answered. He apologized for not responding, explaining that it had been a crazy weekend--he'd had way too much alcohol. He was with his friend in Saginaw, but he came to my rescue. I assumed he'd leave once I was back at my car, but we ended up talking until four in the morning. I liked how easy things were with him, and hearing about all his wild adventures. I wished that I could be as extroverted as he was.

The next week we went to Subway and then hung out at my friend Anna's house. At the time, I considered it a date, but in hindsight, it was more of a hangout with food. We had started texting all day, every day. It was refreshing to have a guy who actually wanted to talk to me, who cared about the minutiae of my day. Before I knew it, we were hanging out twice a week. I was over the moon when he invited me to come over on my next day off; he tempted me with cuddles and homemade pumpkin spice French toast.

I got up early -- unheard of for me -- and drove the half hour to his house. He was temporarily staying with his friend Quincy. Terrence had just moved back to Michigan at Christmastime, after his boyfriend had beat him so badly that he'd had to go to the hospital. I promised him that I would never lay a hand on him -- except in a loving way -- and that I was not a cheater. I wanted to give him the relationship that he deserved. We had a fantastic morning -- with the French toast, cuddles, and RuPaul's Drag Race. We had plans to go to Anna's house in the evening, where Terrence would cook for us. Knowing how much I love cheesecake, he was making one just for me; I was beyond touched. While we were out buying the supplies for dinner, we lost track of time and decided to reschedule for the following night.

Dinner went very well; Terrence was a good cook. While he did the cooking, I worked on the cleaning. Anna seemed to love him, which meant the world to me. When I was driving him home, I mentioned that it had officially been a month since we started hanging out. It had gone by so fast, but so far it had been amazing. That night, we had our first kiss. It was everything that I wanted it to be. The whole drive home, I was giddy, smiling uncontrollably. It was then that I started to think that maybe finally I had met a guy who could love me the way that I wanted to be loved.

Our texting became more intimate. Terrence told me how much he enjoyed spending our time together and swore that he would learn how to make homemade Chinese food for me; it's my favorite. I was floored; it was all so new to me. I couldn't help but wonder: is this what love is supposed to be like? Was I going to be one of the rare lucky ones who just happened to meet the right guy at the right time? Could two battle wounded souls find and heal each other?

One night, he invited me to come over after work; a sleepover. I rushed home, showered, packed a bag, and went to his house. Quincy was at work; we had the house to ourselves. Terrence had never seen Ghost -- one of my favorite movies, so we put it on. He fell asleep within the first half hour, but I was more than happy to lay there holding him and watch the movie. I was so used to a chaotic homelife that the quiet house was like a spa day and a month-long vacation rolled into one.

We fell into an easy routine of texting all day, every day, and hanging out on my two days off. Even when his friends were over -- I assured him that I was more than okay with him having a day with his friends -- we hung out. Some restaurants had started to open up by then; we all ate Chinese in the park, something I had never pictured as a possibility for myself. Of the three friends that were there, I only liked Jake. Quincy was standoffish; Dennis barely acknowledged me. Terrence had assured me that Dennis and I would get along well, especially since we both shared a love of Doctor Who. I tried to use that to build a connection, but he was blatantly dismissive. I was surprised to learn that Jake and Dennis were brothers; I had thought that they were lovers.

As summer began, we started having sleepovers at Anna's house. The first time, he wanted to go to bed; I didn't, but I wanted to be a good partner. As soon as he put his head on my chest, I was out like a light. I woke up at some point in the night and was pleasantly surprised that Terrence was spooning me; this level of intimacy was new and exciting to me. When we woke up, we sixty-nined. Just as I was pulling my pajama pants back on, Anna's dog, Lana, pushed the door open. Two weeks later, we did another sleep over; I once again woke up around seven AM and found that we were sleeping back-to-back. Was this a sign that he had started to drift away or was I just being overly dramatic? I spent a lot of my time internally panicking that he would realize that he could do much better than me and end things.

By May, I was more than smitten with Terrence. I was nervous about what would happen once he went back to work, though, since he'd be working seven days a week, two of them downstate. One night, I built up the courage to ask him when we would have the talk about making our relationship official. In my mind, it already was official. I had no interest in other guys, I'd deleted Grindr, I'd even introduced him to my grandmother, which was a big deal for me. She and I had never had an actual conversation about my sexuality, it was just something that was known but not discussed. Terrence told me that he wanted to wait and see how things went once he went back to work, which made perfect sense to me. Obviously, I wasn't going to stray, but we had built a pseudo-relationship on seeing each other at least twice a week and talking every day; once he was always working, that would change. I had no doubt that we would make it, though.

Anna's birthday is at the beginning of June; every year she has a bonfire in her backyard. Terrence and I had plans to go to the bonfire and then spend the night. Once I got there, though, he stopped responding to my texts. Hours ticked by and I started to panic. Was he okay? Had he gotten in an accident? Had he grown sick of me? I kept trying to text him but didn't get a response. Despondent, I went into the guest room and somehow was able to fall asleep. Around seven AM, he finally texted me. When he'd gotten home from his trip downstate, he'd fallen asleep. The logical part of my brain was concerned that his affection was waning, but the romantic part wanted to believe that everything was fine, so I went along with it.

Terrence went back to work -- just a few days a week at first. He texted me on his breaks. I could tell that he was so happy to be doing what he loved. I was willing to take the second seat to his career, even if it was just as a waiter/bartender. I knew it would be selfish of me to demand that he not work so much so that I could feel comfortable in our 'relationship.' The last thing I wanted was to make myself look needy and insecure; those are the parts of me I try to hide from prospective partners.

Within a few weeks, I got a text that shattered my illusions. Terrence said that he felt that we needed to slow things down. He wasn't ready for a relationship yet, was still healing from the last one. He said that it was nothing that I'd done; he thought I was a great guy and very cute, but all the kissing and cuddling was making him uncomfortable. I'm not a monster, so I assured him that we could slow things down and go at whatever pace he was comfortable with, I just wanted to know if he and I were done. He assured me that he still wanted to see me.

The world opened back up, but before he went back to work full-time, Terrence decided to take a trip back to Myrtle Beach to see his friends. Before he left, we went on a 'date.' Our interaction was on par with what it had been, but when he left, we didn't kiss. He texted me at the airport to whine about how his flight was delayed, to boast when he got upgraded to first-class, and again once he landed, but then he maintained radio silence.

A few weeks later, I was getting my oil changed when he texted me. We had had a 'date' scheduled for the following day. He let me know that he had accidentally burned out the starter on his car. I offered to come get him, assuring him that I just wanted to see him. He told me that his brother was driving down to see if he could fix it. I asked what his availability was, just in case we did have to cancel. He said he'd let me know. I never heard from him again.

Being ghosted by Terrence completely destroyed me. I couldn't understand how someone could be so callous, especially after three months. I know that we weren't official, but after three months, I felt like at the very least, I was owed the decency of a 'break up.' I texted him several times, begging him to just let me know if he didn't want to talk to me again. I made myself look like a fool, all for someone who didn't care about me enough to give me the closure that I so needed at that time.

I've run into him a few times since then; every time he either completely ignores me, or looks at me blankly, as if he has no idea who I am. In hindsight, I see how narcissistic he is. The majority of our conversations were about how cute and amazing he was, how much everyone loved him. I hated to admit it at the time, but I genuinely believe that he was unused to having so much free time, and so he'd sated his boredom by hanging with me. He'd been 'trying me on.' I'm not proud of this, but for a while after he ghosted me, I'd checked out his Facebook page. It turns out, he'd met someone else and within a month, they were dating. About a year later, he and I happened to be at the Verizon store together, and I overheard him telling the salesman that he and his boyfriend were engaged and had bought a house together, but soon after, he was back on Grindr.

It was my fault for going into the whole thing with such childish innocence, but I feel that he could have handled the whole thing better. I'm still traumatized from it all; now if I'm talking to a guy and I don't get a response, I start to panic. Nobody wants to be ghosted; no one deserves to be ghosted. I try to play it casual, but deep down inside, I'm always afraid it will happen again. I struggle to balance the emotions of caring with not being too clingy; nobody wants to date someone who needs constant attention and reassurance.

Part of me fears that I will never find that special love that I've yearned for since I was fifteen. Trust issues already come naturally to me, given how many times I've been betrayed by friends over the years. At my age, I try to avoid getting too attached, especially if I'm unsure of what the other guy is thinking and feeling. I've learned to act aloof so that I don't get hurt like that again. I still want a relationship, but I've thrown away my immature vision of the fairytale and started to write my own rules. I was an only child until I was twelve; my mom and I spent time together shopping and eating, but I didn't want to go outside and play with other kids; I wanted to stay in and play video games or watch TV alone. I've lived on my own for four years now; I never want to live with anyone again, at least not full-time. I value my alone time too much to give that up. If I ever do find myself in a serious relationship, I'd like to keep my apartment so that I can have a day or two a week to myself. That way I can do the things that I want to do that my partner might not necessarily like. I could write, see my friends, sleep until six o'clock in the evening if I want to.

I try to view everything that happens in life as a learning experience. Through my affair with Terrence, I learned that I am, in fact, a big cuddler. Before him, I'd avoided that level of intimacy at all costs. I also learned that there is a very important difference between someone who spends time with you because they want to and because they're bored. I also learned not to be embarrassed about getting ghosted and rejected. It's okay to feel sad that your hopes got dashed and your feelings hurt; just don't wallow in pity for too long. Never be ashamed for feeling something.

I'm still hopeful, but I have become a lot more cynical since the Terrence affair. Sometimes it does hurt my feelings that of my cousins, I'm the only one who is not married or in a serious relationship; I don't care about having kids. I can't help but wonder what is so wrong with me that nobody ever chooses me? I have my faults, sure, but there are people that don't shower that have a partner; why me? I don't ask for much, just someone who loves me and treats me well. I don't need constant attention, but I do at least want good morning and good night texts. I want someone who wants to hear about my day, who wants to celebrate with me when something amazing happens, who will listen to me kvetch about stupid people at work. However impossible it seems at time, I try to stay positive and hope that that great love is still out there somewhere waiting for me.