Three Little Words

I miss you.

The truth is I've been longing to say those words. Ok, I've said them bunches since leaving Austin in July. It's just... Ugh... How do I say this? I suppose I should just say it. Here goes... There is someone I miss. Greatly. Deeply. With far more fervor than she would ever guess. Ever. Ever ever. And look, I don't harbor many illusions, none actually. I don't expect her to miss me or - hell - even recall my presence in the world unless specifically reminded. And that's it. The problem. The crux of it all. Why I haven't said (texted, let's be real) those three little words.

Facts are facts. When I moved, everything in my life changed; only one thing changed in hers. Her world is 99.9% the same as it was before. She has her life and I have....well...mine. It's just that mine is completely different and there are things, people that I miss because of that. She is simply (though there is truly nothing simple about her) one of a few things that I long for. I tell people all the time that I miss them. They miss me, too, or so they say. Sometimes they say it without me even saying it first. Though, all that will gradually subside as the weeks drift into months.

So, why can't I say it to her?

• Because it would be so f***ing out of the blue. Her forehead would crinkle and her eyes would narrow as she muttered quite skeptically "Whaaaaa?" It's not like we text often or were even close friends when I lived in Austin. Such an admission would be shocking.
• Because it would potentially lead to suspicion and even more distance. Not everyone (not every straight woman) wants to hear that a lesbian she hardly knows misses her. I mean it's almost borderline creepy when you think about it. 
• And because most importantly, I don't want her to think that she needs to say something she doesn't need to say, like "I miss you, too". Because isn't that the requisite-polite-non-soul-shattering response? I don't miss her, but I don't want to hurt her feelings by not reciprocating. It's almost a programmed response isn't it? I love you. I love you, too. I miss you. I miss you, too. 

But here's the thing - I don't expect that she misses me, too. God no. I mean it'd be nice (better than nice if I'm being honest and why shouldn't I be honest? It's my blog), but so far from necessary. Geez, why should she miss me? I was a small, nearly infinitesimal blip on the long horizon of her very full life. Stacee moves. Life goes on. It should. Seriously, it should. 

Just as mine should. And it is. But when you up and move a thousand miles away from everything you've known for a decade and you're introverted and you don't make friends very easily (not the deep kind that introverts prefer, in any case), there are hiccups. And even though you might have known someone a mere nanosecond in the grander scheme of things, you might crave that person's presence...you might miss them. Because the thing that's really missing is someone who knows you as well as she knows herself,  someone who gets you so completely there's no way to pretend you're otherwise. Because in a world now filled with small talk and casual conversation, you'll desire - need - something more, something deeper, something she (whether she knew it or not) provided. 

***

Clearly, I haven't decided yet. F***. I haven't written in weeks and here I am overthinking three f***ing little words that people say ALL THE TIME so much that I'm spending the early part of a Saturday evening hashing it all out in a blog. I'm pathetic. But in a good way I think. I hope. 

Perhaps I should just leave it right here. She occasionally reads my blog. Maybe she'll read it and somehow intuit that she's the one I'm talking about.........that she's the one I miss. So with that said...

I miss you. 

***

Well, that was certainly the chicken sh** way out, wasn't it?