would you love me in another universe?

because i would

If things had been different, would we be together?

The concept of ‘right person, wrong time’ never sat right with me. Even as a romantic, I could not accept that someone could be meant for me but was put in my life in a time that held us back. If time is against us, then surely I am not right for you.

If time is against us, then surely my feelings for you will fade. I will forget the gentleness of your voice and its stark difference from the last person I loved. My mind will no longer conjure up memories we never shared. I will not cry when a piece of fiction reminds me of you. In fact, nothing will remind me of you ever again.

I will recall who you are and only recognize your name. I will not wonder how you’ve been and if life has been kind to you. I will be able to meet your eyes from across the table at the next lunch with our friends and treat you exactly as that label suggests.

Time was against us, so I will not entertain the concept of ‘right person, wrong time,’ because I do not (or must not) believe in a cheap attempt to lighten the blow of the fact that you had a girlfriend and pursued me anyway.

And yet, my mind betrays me.

On my weakest moments, I battle with myself. I have a habit of hating my exes, but I struggle to apply the same sentiment to you. Maybe because you were never mine to begin with. I think that is the only thing I hate about you, along with the fact that I desire to write about you, still. I’ve been thinking about this a lot—how the people I never dated tend to stick to my heart the most like gum at the bottom of a seat at the cinema. How while I rewatch the story of us on the big screen, I try to spot details I hadn’t noticed before, like when you lied or withheld information. It wasn’t until you made me cry when I realize those two were the same thing.

I know I’m weak, because I wonder if you think about me too. And if you do, how often? Is it only on times you feel alone? Or is it every day? You broke up with your girlfriend partly because you wanted to be with me, yet I rejected you for a breach of trust. I wonder how you live with that regret.

I made the mistake of telling you I would have loved you. You said it back, and that was the closest we’d been to being anything other than what we were—an anomaly.

Do you wonder if we would be together had things been different? If we were in another universe? I do.

We would have met the same way we did here—online, through a group of friends. We would have started texting here and there, the occasional funny conversation starters that made me curious about you. If this universe were perfect, you would have been single.

When we had the chance for a ‘casual’ meet-up, I would wear my favorite pink dress that made me look like a picnic table, and use the new lipgloss I bought just for this night. I would tell myself this wasn’t a date and try my best to ignore the anxiety of the possibility that it was. And you’d tell me that night how hard it had been to hold yourself back from kissing me. You’d be exasperated, like it was physically exhausting, and once we’ve pulled over, I’d take the pleasure of kissing you first.

In this world, I am the most loved by you. You play the guitar for me because you know how much I love it. You learn my favorite songs, even though they’re too easy and you prefer a challenge. When we’re not cities apart, you hold me because you missed me more than you’re willing to admit. Yet, you don’t rush when you kiss me. You take your time, gentle at first until I decide I want more, because you declared intimacy is up to me after the what I’d gone through before I loved you.

And when I cry on the phone, you are careful with your words. You are careful with me. You hear more than what I say, and you stay on the call until I fall asleep. You stay even until the next morning, and you ask if I’m feeling better. I’ll say yes, always, because you know how to steady my heart amidst any challenge.

When I said I would have loved you, I meant it. But when you said it back, I knew it wasn’t true. Not entirely. You would have loved me, yes, but you wouldn’t have loved me well. I know that because I know you. You are smooth talker. You know when to give attention and when to withdraw to keep me enthralled. You are afraid of confrontation when you’ve made a mistake, so you hide in a blanket of almost-truths as if it will shield you from the consequences of your own actions.

We were hopeless from the start, see? You weren’t single. It wasn’t a date. In fact, I had to find out that night. You only played guitar when I asked you to, and you never learned a song I liked. None of the videos you sent made me laugh, and you asked for a picture all the time. It’s so easy to say this in hindsight, but I wish I let you go sooner. That I caught the lies right away. That you hadn’t lied to me at all. We could have been good friends, at least.

Still, I care about you. I’m not sure if that makes me foolish or kind. But perhaps that is the extent of the love that I can give you.

I would have loved you, but now I know I never could. That’s why you weren’t right for me. It wasn’t the timing—it was you.

I hope the other us is happy. I hope you love me in that other universe. I would have loved you, too.