A letter to the person I may or may not have accidentally fallen in TEMPORARY love with during my summer


First of all, this is not a proud moment for me. You already know I’m one of those embarrassing people who wears their heart on their face, fuck the sleeve. Despite that, I try to be aloof when it comes to relationships, however casual or fleeting they might have been. This time, however, it went spectacularly wrong, and the only conclusion I can draw from this is that I must be a little bit in love with you. A LITTLE BIT, calm down.

I do tend to fall in lust fairly easily, that early, slightly creepy infatuation you get when you’ve started to like someone. That didn’t actually happen with you though. I was fairly indifferent, although granted, I thought you were attractive, but I feel the same way about some types of cheese. When you struck up conversation, I was literally in another world, as I have been on and off for the last couple of months. Things have been weird, I’ve been trying to figure everything out and having a small panic about being in the final year of my Twenties – it’s been difficult AF. You didn’t magically cure that by asking me random questions and being all twinkly like a less rich, South American James Bond. The idea of you built over the course of a few days and, although initially I tried to ignore it, I couldn’t. It happened so quickly I didn’t realise for about a day, but by then it was already too late and we were making out next to a fountain like EVERY BAD MOVIE, EVER.

That dodgy Sunday night when the flirtation morphed into something else, had NOT started well at all. I was all over the place, anxious, stressed, sad, but I ended up having one of the best nights of my summer thus far. Sitting with you by that fountain, seven gins deep, was the calmest and the happiest I’d been in weeks. Of course I was consumed by guilt the day after, because I am a neurotic mess, nice to meet you. I thought I’d done something terrible, being even remotely interested in someone else, so soon after the breakdown of a moderately serious relationship. You were comically nice to me over the next two days, although God knows what you must have thought, sitting in one of the most beautiful parks in Barcelona consoling a crying, premenstrual lunatic English girl. I couldn’t help it, I felt so comfortable with you and it TERRIFIED me. The fact you kept coming back led me to believe that you must have been completely insane, but apparently you were just a nice person.

I know it was only a month. I know it wasn’t real love, merely one of these travel ‘romances’ (trust me I’m cringing as hard as you probably are reading this bullshit) which burns out as quickly as it starts. I’ve been through this stuff enough times to know that. I know that in the real world, there’s no way in hell we’d have been into each other. I’ve had food in my fridge which lasted longer than whatever we were, and which I probably had a more meaningful relationship with.

But it meant something to me. Maybe in my slightly mad, existential-crisis state, I couldn’t see things clearly, but the closeness that we shared was unusual and, in my opinion, special. We went on actual dates and didn’t run out of things to talk about. We laughed a lot. You paid for my (huge) dinners, held the door for me, genuinely comforted and supported me during a slightly weird period of my life. You were so nice to me, even though I must have been a disaster.

I don’t even know why I’m writing this, to be honest. It’s clear to me that we liked the idea of each other, that this wouldn’t have been something that would have ever worked in the real world. But it’s been 2 weeks (that’s a lifetime in Beth-world) and I miss you so much. I suppose I want to thank you. I’m figuring stuff out, just like we all are, and I’m sorry you got swept up in that, especially because I projected a lot of my negativity and weirdness onto you. It’s something I’m working on. So I don’t know if you’ll read this, but thank you for dealing with that.

Thank you for putting up with me for one month of weirdness. Thank you for being so nice to me. Thank you for (probably) understanding that I’ve deleted you from my social networks, deleted your number, because every time I look at your messages right now, I get a bit sad. Thank you for being a legend. Thank you for paying for about 6000 tapas.

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