a hopeless romantic pt.IV: Playing With Fire

If you’ve read any of my earlier posts, you’d know I had a struggle with giving in to guys who gave me attention. And he was the first to show interest in me in this new chapter of my life. Nevertheless, as I was on a journey to a better me, a more confident me, I prayed that this wouldn’t be one of those moments. I prayed and asked God to allow me to have a genuine interest in this person and not just because he showed one in me first. It started with a few texts a couple of days after our conversation that I thought were truly innocent to begin, but things shifted and he became a bit more flirty and I began to feel guilty. ‘I shouldn’t be having this kind of conversation with you,’ I thought. But it felt good. However, that Sunday I went to my leadership and told of what was happening. ‘Don’t respond,’ I was told. And sadly, that just made me want to talk more. I tried so hard to avoid outside conversation with this person but with every message, I felt like I was being pulled deeper. I went to my leadership a second time for accountability but in all honesty I was really just trying to cover up my guilt for engaging when I knew I shouldn’t be. The platform shifted from texting to social media DMs and IMs and that was fair game right? We weren’t texting . . right? HA.. Bending the rules and playing with fire became our thing. For months, we flirted. We chatted. We heart-eyed and commented on one another’s posts. I invited him to visit me at work. I began to intentionally post things I knew he’d respond to on my Instagram story. I had that feeling you get when you like someone and you become willing to do whatever to just talk to them. I, if you can see, was under a spell, of course not knowing so then, but I was now going against the very process I committed to just weeks prior and sadly again, I didn’t want it to end. 

Our dancing went on for a few months and others began to pick up on what we were doing. We weren’t just dancing in private but some moments were public as well. The way he looked at me when I walked in the room. The way he waited for me at the door on Sunday mornings to greet me with a smile. The way he held an umbrella over me as the storm passed one summer night when us and some friends met for a play in the park. The way we sat next to each other and talked about my relationship with my dad at a softball game. With all these public acts, I started to feel more connected and more comfortable with my friends. I had something to talk about with my girls, right?! But of course, doing wrong always FEELS so right. Playing with fire is fun . . until you get burnt. And as time passed and the more I believed I was upholding the standard, the more hurtful it was when the truth finally came out. . 

Until next time . .