We have to stop whatever we’re doing because I can’t do casual,” said Ben, my friend with whom I had been hooking up with for the past four months.
I was taken aback. Nothing about our situation seemed complicated. We were long-distance friends who happened to hook up whenever we were in the same city. No dreadful “situationship.” Nothing overwhelming, at least to me. It started to sink in that this was the end of what I’d found to be a rather enjoyable tryst.
“Do you want to hook up one last time?” I asked, internally devastated.
Afterwards, Ben walked me to work. We hugged as we went our separate ways – I cherished every second, hanging on for a few moments longer than our usual goodbyes. I was crushed.
I didn’t understand what went wrong. We seemed to have a good thing going on. Ben and I had been friends for a little over a year. Our affair started when he kissed me at a music festival, which led to a longer make-out session. While I found it funny, sources told me Ben had found it stressful.
We hooked up later during Thanksgiving weekend. I remember flirting with Ben all night, only to be met with little reciprocation. I was upset, frustrated and felt rejected. After all, he had kissed me first.
It was only at the end of the night that Ben seemed to get over his internal conflict — and that’s when it really began.
We saw each other periodically, but rarely talked in between. I guess it felt awkward to try to change our dynamic. He had just moved to Toronto; I was in Montreal. We couldn’t hang out regularly anymore, and we rarely texted. In hindsight, maybe I was too scared to get closer to him. Maybe I knew that I would catch feelings.
As I spiralled in the moments after our goodbye, I began to wonder why I was so devastated. Was I not a fun, casual hookup? Even worse, was I so gutted by this loss because I… had a crush on Ben? Had I had feelings all along?
I began to rewind and realized it had been a minute since I last had a proper crush, with my last crush being my math tutor in the fall of 2023. It’s no secret that the “crush economy” has been low. Soon I was feeling that familiar rush of euphoria I hadn’t felt in a really long time. I was excited, flustered, and eager. Suddenly, Ben was the perfect man for me and no one else could compare. In an instant, it seemed like he was one of the most nuanced, intelligent, sexy, and soulful people I had ever met. But then the harshness of my reality set in. After all, what was there to be eager about if Ben had just broken off our relationship? My heart was shattered.
Amidst my heartbreak, I began to scramble for a solution. What could I possibly do to keep him in my life? That’s when I realized I had to tell him — and the nausea set in. Should I wait to tell him in person? No, that wouldn’t be for another month. I had to tell him right then and there.
So, I decided to send him a text: “I think there might be some feelings I’ve been suppressing, and I think I really like you…”
I was ready to throw up at any second. In retrospect, writing that line made me feel irredeemably tacky.
I sent it. Then I waited.
Waiting for a text back is quite possibly one of the worst feelings of all time. I felt dread, adrenaline, and a weird sense of giddiness. I began to fantasize about what it would mean if Ben liked me back. After all, there was already a mutual attraction between us. What if when he said he didn’t want to be casual, he actually meant he wanted to be exclusive? Would he want to be my boyfriend? I’m aware I was leaping when I should’ve at most tip-toed. My God, my crush had led me to reach a point of lunacy.
“…I think I just see you as a friend, but I admit the circumstances and the distance led me to never really consider anything else, so I’m sorry about that,” he wrote back.
I felt it then: the beautiful feeling of release. Truly, Ben’s reply felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Not only was I immediately okay with it, I also felt relieved. As I analyzed my feelings, I found this sense of relief to be both refreshingly depressing and surprisingly hilarious. I had expected further heartbreak, pain, and sorrow if things hadn’t gone my way. I didn’t want to go home and bang my head against the wall to forget his existence. In fact, I felt grateful for it. And then I realized: this was the first time in my life I had ever told anyone that I liked them.
Though I hadn’t experienced a crush in a long time, thanks to the current dismal “crush economy,” this brief experience reminded me of the unique thrill that comes with liking someone. The butterflies, the “what-ifs,” and even the heartache are all a beautiful part of being human.
In the end, I highly recommend telling someone you like them — it’s a liberating act of honesty. As adults, it’s no longer cute (or sustainable) to silently destroy ourselves over the fear of rejection. Handling romantic rejection well means embracing the vulnerability of putting your feelings out there, accepting outcomes beyond your control, and finding gratitude in the growth that comes from the experience. With this newfound wisdom, I can only hope Ben and I have a strong enough foundation to continue our friendship. After all, love isn’t a conquest, and nothing truly belongs to us. All we can do is appreciate the connections we’ve had and the lessons they teach us.
After reflecting on my experience, I absent-mindedly checked the time. It was 4:53 p.m. Ben and I had left my apartment at 1:00 p.m. My crush had only lasted four hours.