You got under my skin. I don't know why, but you did.
At first, I thought you'd flake, but somehow, we managed to meet for a drink and the chemistry was unlike the other dates thus far. Conversation flowed. We talk about work. You seem passionate about your job/s. I call your bluff and out myself for having googled you before coming for that drink.
You were funny and honest and a bit drunk but it felt good. You talk about your family and your dog and you sound like you're close to them. You talk about friends you miss back home and how excited you are to see them over the holiday.
Timing -- among other things, wasn't on our side. Momentum was halted and when things resumed, it wasn't quite the same. Communicating over What's App wasn't our strong suit. Our humor and banter in real life didn't translate to the virtual world at all. You rubbed me the wrong way. I got defensive.
And yet, somehow, after a lot of missed chances, we decide to meet for another drink. It's not as flawless as the first time, but I thought we'd just need time to get back into the groove. There were good moments. It was nice to catch up after quite some time. You're still engaging and interesting.
You're busy though and the momentum never got back on. I find myself so combative over messaging and I don't know why. You're not helping things either. We make plans and break plans and make plans again. I thought it was over but for some reason, we decide to meet up one more time.
I didn't think it'd be the last time I saw you, but by the end of the evening, though it had it's good moments, I kind of knew it wasn't going anywhere. It would have been a miracle of either of us thought to go out again. On paper, it could have been so good. You ticked a lot of boxes. But in reality, for some reason, it just didn't work out.
Sometimes, I still check your instagram out to see what you're up to. And how things could have worked out differently if I were in another state of mind. Was it timing? I don't know. But it was an interesting run.