On and off. We were on and off for a few years. Not really ever completely on, so I guess we could never really be off. We clicked. Had a great date. And then another. He went away for a trip for a month and when he got back dropped the news that he was moving.
I wanted to keep talking. We said we’d keep talking. We did at first. And then he stopped responding. I thought it was done. But he came back around. But I was done. Then I came back around, and he was with someone. Then he came back around and I was with someone. Could never quite get it right.
Then it happened. Two years later. He was single. I was single He was home. I was home. But he was heartbroken. So heartbroken. So heartbroken when he looked at me I could tell he wished it was her. But I stuck around. I figured he had to get over her eventually. If I dressed a little sexier. If I gave him a little more. He had to love me. Right?
Wrong. The truth is that she was the one he wanted. She was the one he loved. He wasn’t on and off with me, he was on and off with her. The girl he actually called his girlfriend, instead of his friend. Turns out the times he was texting me, he was “off” with her. The times he wasn’t talking to me, he was “on” with her. I was no one. I am no one to him. I’m who he needed to get over her. My body is what he needed to move on. I’m the redhead that Noah Calhoun used to distract himself from the fact that Allie was gone. And when Allie returned, the redhead had to go. The redhead. She doesn’t even have a name.
And just the same way Noah ended up with Allie. He went back to her. Or so I found out on Facebook yesterday morning.