Loving the Forgetfuls


When they forget your birthday, smile graciously and let them know you don’t care. It’s just another day. You’re only another year older. It doesn’t matter too much. Yet. They will say all the right things to you. Things that will make you forget that you were kinda sad about the fact that they forgot you were born on this day. They will say how nice you look before placing their hand on the small of your back and bringing you closer. You will smile because you feel special and not used. Okay, maybe slightly used. But, who cares about birthdays. You’re not 21 anymore. 

When they forget to text you back, reply with an emoji. The one with a straight line for a mouth. Make it seem like you’re only slightly annoyed. Hurt. Unfeeling. Whatever. You will be forever understanding that they were busy and had to play video games or watch some new movie that came out. Their phone wasn’t anywhere near them. Sorry. Sorry. 

When they forget to meet you for drinks, don’t answer their calls. Hit “ignore” and drink another whiskey and coke, extra lime on the side. Smile with muster at the bartender, call him a “bar keep” because that feels funny to you. When they call your phone again, turn it off and push it to the bottom of your purse. When they show up at your house, wear the skirt that shows too much thigh. Bite your lips too much and only give them ten minutes of your time. Look at your nails too much. Point your toes inward and bounce on your heels. Walk back into the house and wipe at your eyes. Go back to bed. Turn off your phone. Envelope yourself into darkness.

When they forget to tell you that they love you too, realize it isn’t because they forgot, it’s because they don’t feel the same way. They’ll look at you and say “thanks” and that will be the end of it. Just nod and take a sip of your drink and walk upstairs without saying another word. Don’t tell them good-bye because who cares. They obviously don’t. They keep forgetting about you.


For the Non Lovers


Is there a word for our non lovers? The almost? The could be, the should have been, the would have been if they were different? If we were different, if we had let ourselves give in to it? I was in his bed, clutching around for my clothes, my underwear, trying to figure out what I was doing. Why I kept going back to this same old routine. He was in the other room, getting a drink of water, while I put back on my jeans, and my bra, and my sweater, and slipped on my shoes deciding my words with each zip and button. It was at the door, while leaving, that I looked back at him. Half naked, half smirking, and me, half in love with him. And, I told him that. Told him and walked out the door while the look of surprise flashed on his face, and he was putting down his glass to walk towards me. Wait. Stop. Look back, but I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I walked away because I was scared, nervous, vulnerable, because I wasn’t ready for the next step, because I didn’t want to know his answer, because it wouldn’t work even if I wanted it to. Between us, the relationship wasn’t real, but the feelings were. At least on my part, but I didn’t have the words for them. I don’t think I ever will.