On the Sunday after kissing the Other boy, I woke up hung-over, regretful, confused and racked with guilt. I spent the day on the couch with Carrie and the girls, trying to figure out what the night and my reaction to it meant for my prized single status.
I exchanged a harmless message or two with the Beautiful Boy, deciding that since we were officially single, I wouldn’t tell him anything until we were face to face again. It felt bad though. It felt like lying, like cheating.
By Sunday night I reached a low point. I couldn't do it, not like this. I wrote a long confessional e-mail, reminding the Boy that I found myself in completely uncharted territory. I was trying to be single while getting over something and at the same time I’d fallen in love with someone new who could not be there with me right then.
Not knowing when he would read it or what his reaction would be nearly drove me insane. I was just going to have to wait. I cried myself to sleep, tears of loss and fear.
What if I’d just given up the best man that I ever would meet?
What if he took this occurrence as a cue that my feelings for him were not as sincere as I’d professed?
What if he’s the jealous type who could never get over this?
What if he’d been kissing Other girls?
Would I want to know?
Could I accept it?
And what did any of these question matter as we were both “single”?!