virginia is not for lovers

February 3, 2021

This is a letter to a boy who I fell in love with for a day. There are two things that make me think of this guy: the band Movements, and January. He introduced me to the band (which is now one of my favorites, regardless of him) and I met him in January. 

He seemed perfect (don’t they all?)… Except he lived in Virginia and I was in New York. This was my first real touch of a long distance relationship. Sure, I had flirted with guys online in other states & countries before, but this was different. This guy and I talked every day, I really saw a relationship with him. He wasn’t just another hot british guy on tumblr. I think we met on Facebook. He popped up in my mutuals somehow with one mutual friend. And let me tell you, we hit it off. 

I can recall him coming over one cold night in January. Just passing through the area while his band was touring. I always went for band boys, if I wasn’t in a relationship, I still would. Something about musical guys always interested me. Dark hair, beard and tattoos… again Emma, really? Really. I thought he and I had really hit it off. We talked, fooled around a bit, and then slept in separate rooms. I’ll spare the dirty details, but I remember finishing myself off in my bedroom because he didn’t. To be honest, that should have been my first red flag. If a man doesn’t want to make you cum, you run as fast as you can, because fuck that.

The next day he took some of my first portraits that started my modeling career. I liked them, I thought it was fun. We literally got along so well. Everything was great. We cuddled, I laid on his chest, and we discussed a potential long distance relationship. Actually, at this time I was still conversing with my five year ex and when he saw I was with another guy (snapchat) he wasn’t pleased. I didn’t care, I needed to get away from him. So anyway, new guy, great guy. I remember him telling me his tattoo stories, my wide eyes were dewey as I was nodding, listening to every small detail. If you ever need to make anyone think you’re really into them, listen to every tattoo story. Including the boring stuff. It works. I then told him about all the tattoos I’d never have. My old conversation tactic. I had a script at this point:

If I had any, I would get a quote by Zelda Fitzgerald on my forearm below my elbow, “Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold.” If I had the guts, I’d still get that. When I pulled this tactic on Connor he said, “I think talking about that tattoos you’d want is the same thing as having tattoos and talking about them.” Which made so much sense, I never got a tattoo, and haven’t had the conversation since.

So anyway, when the day was done and it was time for him to leave, I cried. I liked him a lot and didn’t want him to go. But like all good things, he had to leave, too. I never heard from him again.

As I write this, I have a La Dispute lyric stuck in my head, “Was our touch half as sacred as I made it seem? Or just another fabrication of a half-dream.” I feel that this line is relatable to more than just this incident with Virginia guy. AKA all of my almost-lovers, such as the mysterious man from my previous post “the moon & you.” Was our touch as sacred as I felt it was? Both virginia boy, and mystery man? Did they feel it too? Or was it just another dream?

As I continue to ponder what could have been going on in their heads, I think about this question a lot: did you think you could love me? Both mystery man and Virginia guy. Did they think they could love me?

I think mystery man knew he could love me, and it terrified him so he ran.

I think Virginia guy felt like he could love me, but then met me and changed his mind. But at what point? When I was on my knees? When he was photographing me? What was the turn off point? 

I wrote a poem.

Love Me

I watch the snow fall come down

It makes me think of you

A one stop shop

Did you see anything you liked?

I didn’t know I was a pit stop 

Did you think you could use me?

In love with the idea of love

This fictional narrative of a pastime I once knew

I’ve been thinking about the taste of you

Did I feel good? How do you like it?

You sucked the nectar from my lips

Without ever touching me

not even once.

One hand over my mouth

Another around my hips

I’ve been thinking too much of you

And the way you left 

and the way it felt

Did you think you could lose me?

This already bleeding heart broke wept

When you decided to leave me on your own

Or was I just scared?

Afraid to be alone?

Afraid to see myself

Burying my demons 

By kissing yours

They visit me in the night 

As I try to sleep

And now I’m haunted by the ghost of you.

Did you think you could love me?

Did you think you could love me?

Did you think you could love me?

— it’s okay, I thought so too.

I thought I could love me, too.  


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/By Alice Marie ROose