borrowing another's words

[The post below the next paragraph, titled "Yes, you" is written by Kris at I'm not a girl, not yet a wino.]

Not very long ago, I was the girl the author is writing about in her post "yes, you". I was that girl who kept sticking around, reaching for crumbs, hoping he'd eventually give more. After a whole hell of a lot of inner searching, I now see how I ended up in that position. I think I can say with a fair level of certainty that I am no longer that girl. I hope I never get to be her again. And although I think what the author wrote is dead on, I also think that it isn't up to the guy alone to change it. The girl is really the one who needs to realize that she deserves more and say "no thanks" to anything less. But as someone once said, "we all accept the love we think we deserve".

Yes, you.

I'm talking to you. I know you don't know me, but I know you.

I want you to leave her alone, to stop this mess you’ve lured her into. To stop dangling the carrot in front of her face knowing full well that you aren’t enough for this woman, knowing full well that you keeping her at arm’s length only draws her in closer. I want you to man up and tell her to move on, tell her you’ll never deliver, because you won’t. Sunday crosswords and hands held tightly at the market and wine over dinner with friends – it isn’t in the cards. She will never meet your parents or be your date for the wedding you’ve talked about for the year, a picture of celebration and friendship you’ve painted repeatedly, although never with her in it. She will never see the Maldives with you and your favorite couple. You will never agree to hit the favorite haunts in her hometown.

And you know it.

You’ve known it since the beginning, since well before any synonym for commitment ever entered the conversation. You’ve known it since you hesitated the first and the tenth time to introduce her to your friends, since you turned down the first of many invitations to meet up with her girls at their bar. The excuses are lazy ones and the truth even lazier. You've known it since you first saw her face flush when you gave her hope of something more.

Tell her you’re back together with an ex, that you never loved her. Tell her the truth: that you’re a ridiculous coward who doesn’t care enough about her to let her live her own life.

She deserves better than you, and I only wish she knew it. I wish I could fast forward to the day when she’ll have him, the one who won’t want to make a vacation plan without her in it, who will think to bring her to meet his friends within a matter of days. He’ll be without her and wish she was picking up her cell so he could share a silly observation. He’ll be in awe of her and on some days stare at her when she isn’t looking. He'll know that sex isn't always about the orgasm and he'll check on her when she's sick. Oh yes, they’ll fight and there will be weeks when she won’t remember what she saw in him to begin with, but he’ll love her deeply and treat her with the respect and adoration she deserves. And there will be Sunday crosswords and knowing how she takes her coffee and the occasional envy of her friends.

And you know that part too.