He Was Never Mine
My boyfriend, Liam, was this super–genius, a
real cold fish, and absolutely hated being
touched.
We’d been together for years, but we’d never
done anything remotely couple–y. No holding
hands, no pecks, nada.
I just figured he was wired that way, and I’d
resigned myself to a totally platonic
relationship.
Then, on his birthday, I took a forty–hour
Greyhound bus ride to see him.
And I saw him under a streetlight, smiling,
lightly tugging on some girl’s ponytail, and
then, get this, holding her hand.
<
That’s when I knew I was done.
“If some other chick’s touched him, he’s too
dirty for me.”
He went completely ballistic, totally losing it.
- 1.
It had been fourteen days since Liam and I
had last talked, and today was his birthday.
Clutching the present I’d bought with six
months‘ worth of waitress tips, I rubbed my
butt, which was completely numb after the
forty–hour bus ride.
From Ohio to California, basically across the
country.
<
Standing under the streetlight near the
University of California campus, I couldn’t
help but feel nervous about Liam’s reaction
when he saw me.
Probably the same as usual, right?
Expressionless.
Maybe a nod of acknowledgment.
He was always like that, like some
emotionless robot.
Thinking back, on the fight that led to this
silent treatment, I couldn’t help but sigh.
The distant light caught a familiar figure, and
I started to move towards him, then noticed
he wasn’t alone.
く
A girl with a high ponytail, dressed in workout
gear, was laughing with Liam.
And Liam…
I don’t think I’d ever seen him look so relaxed.
The girl was chattering away, and he reached
out, gently tugging on her ponytail.
She playfully swatted his hand.
Instead of getting annoyed, he joined in the
playful banter.
The streetlight cast a warm glow on them
both.
A cute couple, messing around under the
moonlight.
<
Like something you’d see in a rom–com.
But I wasn’t feeling very romantic.
The reason why was because our argument
had been about Liam’s personality.
He was a local boy genius, a real brainiac,
fast–tracked into UC at seventeen.
By twenty, he was already this rising star in
academia.
But he also had his quirks.
Liam was pathologically repulsed by physical
contact.
He wouldn’t do contact sports, wouldn’t ride
public transportation.
<
In middle school, he’d nearly beaten up a
classmate for accidentally touching his hand.
And I, as his girlfriend, wasn’t an exception to
his no–touch policy.
We didn’t kiss, we didn’t hug, we hadn’t even
held hands.
On our anniversary, under the fireworks, I’d
tiptoed and pecked him on the cheek.
His eyes had been blank, and his quick step
backward had stung for weeks.
I’t telling myself that was just how Liam
was.
But sometimes, I felt a pang of resentment.
L
On Valentine’s Day, my roommate went public
with her relationship, posting a photo of her
holding hands with her new boyfriend.
I’d screen–shotted it and sent it to Liam,
half–joking that it had been three years and
we’d still never held hands.
He’d only replied with a, “Huh.”
In a huff, I hadn’t texted him for two weeks.
And he certainly wasn’t going to reach out to
me first.
A
ual, I’d talked myself out of being upset.
I crossed half the country to see him, and this
is what I found.
<
A massive feeling of disconnect washed over
- me.
A motorcycle zipped past the girl, and Liam
instinctively pulled her behind him.
He was holding her hand.
That protective move was like another stab to
the heart.
At the same moment, Liam saw me across
the street.
