So there’s this guy. Maybe you met him at a party, made out a little bit before getting his name. Or maybe he made some “Buffy” reference while in line at Commons that made you go weak in the genitals. And suddenly you’re talking and you feel some real Lindsay Lohan word vomit coming up because, hahaha, did he really just compliment my Jurassic Park t–shirt and, seriously, did he actually laugh at my “Arrested Development” joke and OHMYGOD his smile is so cute and is it hot in here or is it just me? And even though all you wanted was some ramen from the Gourmet Grocer, you have a date on Friday.
And it goes swimmingly. He pays for your Pattaya dinner and only slightly grazes your ass with his hand while walking, like a real gentleman. You talk about classes, about how he’s a senior and what jobs he’s looking for, about how that kid wearing the light blue polo shirt at the next table looks like a total douchebag. So you go out again. And again. And before you know it, a month has passed and you’re really starting to fall for this guy. You put off talking about where this is going, because you know it can’t go anywhere. You’re a sophomore and he’s a senior. He’ll be gone in four months. He’ll have a real life with real problems and he’ll be a real person. You’ll just be tying him down. And before this becomes anything real, you decide to end it: to make the smart decision, the practical one. The one that comes with a little pain now, as a trade–off for not being completely devastated come the beginning of a new school year.
You’ve never been in this situation before, where you both want to be together so badly, but you can’t because the timing is completely, dreadfully awful. You’ve dumped and you’ve been dumped. You never just… couldn’t. And in some ways that’s worse. You’ve always been angry, mad, upset at the other person when the relationship ended. Now you’re just mad at yourself. “Did we make the right decision?” you’ll ask yourself. You’ll tear yourself up, thinking of all the reasons why a doomed four–month relationship would be better than no relationship. You’ll think of bullshit sayings about living in the moment and wish he would show up at your door, soaking wet, and just kiss you. And then your romantic notions will end. Because you’ll realize you made the right decision. You’re smart. You rationalized this. Maybe Buffy and Spike really can’t be together. And that just really fucking sucks.