I’m so backwards. So, so backwards. I’ve always wanted a guy to genuinely like me. To not mind my social awkwardness, not make fun of my clumsiness, laugh at my lame jokes, appreciate my random music taste – all the little kinks and quirks that make me who I am. And now that I have that, I hate it.
Jack likes me. I mean really, really likes me. For the first time – well, ever – he’s the one making all of the effort. He’ll always hit me up just to check on me. He’ll remember little things that I tell him. He shows an interest in more than the physical stuff, which is really refreshing.
We didn’t end up walking in the park – because I didn’t want to. Our calendars collided and instead of rescheduling, I made up some bullshit excuse about being busy. He was genuinely upset. But I dreaded our date like a trip to the dentist. I don’t know why. Well scratch that, I do know why.
According to the ladies at Cosmo, a guy is supposed to like you 10 percent more than you like him. I read the story and during my internship, I saw lots of Tweets from readers who wholeheartedly agreed. Apparently it creates this workable balance of emotions. The guy isn’t playing games about the way he feels about you – he just tells you. He’s not taking two hours to respond to one text message – he’s attentive. He might even call. He’s not dragging his feet to visit you – he’s willing to travel just to see you for half an hour. And I have that…well, had it. Everything was going so well. I should’ve been rejoicing! Jack and I could’ve made something work, but I didn’t have the same kind of feelings that he had for me. And I’d hate to lead him on. I couldn’t even reap the benefits of my 10 percenter because of one factor: Carlos.
I’m the Jack in that situation and it sucks. Hard. I’ve grown to like Carlos so, so much. It’s like the more he pushes away, I want be closer. After we hooked up, I didn’t hear from him for a really long time. Assuming the worse, I sent him this really long and dramatic goodbye text message and had every intention of blocking his phone number the next morning. Ugh. A Cosmo girl is NOT supposed to do that. He replied back with an apology explaining that he’s been so busy, that he missed me, that he enjoyed every moment. Ever since then, it’s been touch and go…sometimes he’ll call me, sometimes I’ll text him. We try to meet up, he ends up backing out. I try to play it cool – like he’s not shit and like there’s plenty of guys like him – but hearing his voice can make my entire day better. As much as I like to front, I know that if he’d call me right now to hang out, I’d drop everything and make my way over to Harlem. I have it bad. And that is NOT good.
Like Frank Ocean said, it’s a bad religion to be in love with someone who can never love you. And I know I don’t love Carlos. But I want him to like me as much as I like him. Life would be so much easier that way.
When she’s not watching for Blue Ivy sightings or doing some serious Facebook creeping, Khalea moonlights as a print/online journalism major at the REAL HU, Howard University. Follow her on Twitter at @letsbeKHAlear, or feel free to Twatch. Whatever works for you.
[Lead image via AlAlexander Shadrin/Shutterstock]