Dear *Sebastian,

I was adapting to grade seven.

And you were a senior. Mysterious. Blue-eyed, red headed with freckles. And tall. Really tall. Who’d strut down the hallway with members of your clique. As you’d near, you’d playfully grab a new arrival – usually *Martin or *Joshua – for a game of locker ping-pong.



Let’s jump to the late 1990s. Through work, I met my ex-boyfriend’s girlfriend, *Zoey. Small towns. We quickly became friends – which was probably awkward for *Harvey.

Zoey and I were both on fitness kicks, and we’d talk about health and working out. And we’d meet for lunch. Meet at the bar – with Harvey. Okay, that had to be super awkward for him.

One day at work Zoey came up with the brilliant idea of setting me up with you. Even though I barely knew you. But you apparently thought I was cute. I wasn’t sold on that fact, though. I wasn’t interested in a relationship. I hadn’t dated in over a year. I liked my freedom.

But, I went to a social the next night, where you were supposed to be. And, where was Sebastian? Oh, you were going to be late. Like, last call and final dance late.

When you did arrive, it felt like a speed date: “Hi, you’re *Bianca’s little sister? Tessa?” I guess it’s good to double check. “I’m Sebastian. Wanna dance?”

We danced to Hotel California by the Eagles. Despite my heels and that I’d grown since grade seven, it was an awkward six and a half minutes because of your height. You towered over me as we tried to talk over the music.

I cranked my neck: “How’s university!”

“No, I’m not thirsty.”

“No! How’s university!”

“Oh! I like the city!”

After the social, as usual, everyone hovered into a crowd, bumping into each other like penguins. Wondering “Where do we go now?” There’s a social sequence. Go to the bar until last call, and then an after party.

You and I skipped the after parties and went to your friend’s place. As Zoey suggested, we got acquainted. And, oh my, we discovered commonalities. We were both Aries. Wow, a cosmic match. You were into Celtic music, and Loreena McKennitt. And you loved Riverdance. And I loved Shania Twain’s “Don’t Be Stupid” video with the Riverdancers. Two out of three. You even liked pineapple on your pizza.

Wow. That sealed it. You had to be my soulmate. I even wrote that in my diary. In my defence, I didn’t home until late.

When you walked me to my car, you lightly kissed me. It would’ve been super romantic if it wasn’t -30, and we weren’t shivering. And if I didn’t have to stand on my tippy-toes and you didn’t have to crouch down.

“I’ll call.”

“Okay,” and I drove home.

And the next day you called me.

A temporary moment of silence for the souls of men who don’t call when they say they will.

That night, we went out for coffee. We talked about everything from music to our exes. Your last relationship ended bitterly. And you wanted us to move slow. Perfect. After Harvey, I was pretty much stuck in neutral. But the drive home took an awkward twist.

You brought up sex.

And how your ex-girlfriend never wanted to cuddle after sex. She’d just bolt to the washroom.

“Is that normal?” you asked. “All I want is fifteen minutes. Do you cuddle after sex?”

“Um, I’m a virgin.”

Your head whipped in my direction and we almost hit the ditch.

“What? Wow, that’s … wow.” You continued with a string of “wows” like I was the last Canadian virgin. “Why?”

“Waiting for the right guy,” I said.

“Really,” you said, grinning.

Settle down, cowboy. Because I’d known you for eleven hours.

“At my age,” you started, “I’m looking for someone to settle down with.” You glanced at me, but I was focusing outside. Cool. Trees. “I’m almost thirty. I want to get married and start a family.”

“Oh, good. My parents have the Christmas lights on!” I was almost home free.

Advice? Don’t bring up marriage and kids on the first date. Especially when the girl is in her early-twenties.

The car slowed down. “I wasn’t going to say this, but when I saw you last weekend, I knew I wanted to have sex with you.”

“Really? Why?” Yeah, I asked “Why.” Not, “Golly, gee. That’s sweet.” Thinking back, Sebastian, that was creepy.

“You seem so warm and friendly.”

“And it’s the second house, not the first,” I said. “People get them mixed up.”

“Tessa?”

“Yeah?”

“Like I said, I want to take this slow.”

“Me too.”

“I’ll call.”

And I repeal my moment of silence.

Because you didn’t call. I didn’t hear from you. For two weeks. Until New Year’s Eve. When you – surprise – appeared at that concert. Yes … friggin’ four, three, two, one. Best year ever, whatever.

Then you disappeared again. To Cancun? For two weeks? Ah, you forgot to tell me. Oh, but you promised we’d go out for Valentine’s Day. But I never heard from you. So I kept the gift I bought you. Still have it. That’s right. I bought you a gift. We weren’t even official boyfriend/girlfriend.

But, jump for joy – I heard from you in March. But, oh darn. You needed to study. This wasn’t taking it slow. This was a relationship out of convenience. For you.

Then, my mistake. I invited you on an overnight trip for my work. I said not to worry about sleeping arrangements. I’d ensure there were two beds. Which is possibly what caused you to sever the ties. Basically I said “And on the first night, there shall be no sex.”

I didn’t hear from you until the week after I returned.

“Oh, was that the weekend? I forgot.”

We’re both Aries. We don’t forget. Anything. That was the last time we spoke.

By the end of April? You dissipated from my life like the snow. Why you chose to ghost me, I’ll never understand. Was it because I was a virgin? Or was I rebound gone wrong? Were we supposed to get acquainted in a different way at your friend’s house? When you claimed to like pineapple on your pizza? Did you expect me to say, “Oh, Sebastian. Take me right now. In a snow bank!“

Our not-really relationship is one I can’t understand. In five months of cat and whatever a cat chases but doesn’t seem to want, you only kissed me three times. And you called me a handful of times. As a result, we still hardly knew each other.

But whenever you didn’t call? Or claimed you forgot? I learned more about you than you’ll ever realize.

At least we’ll always have pineapple.

Always,

Tessa

************

*Names changed for privacy