The One That Got Away

Hi. I've liked this guy for a year and wrote too many sad poems about him, but I've never met him. I can't precisely explain how I like him this much if I haven't met him, but trust me, I like this dude a lot.

I spent the entirety of last summer seeing him every week but not talking to him, and now he's moving out of state. I'm so afraid that I'll never meet him and that he will never meet me. 

Will I have to accept the fact that he's just going to be the "one that got away"? How do I forget about him? How do I get to the point where hearing his name has no effect on me?


Pam Beesly


Girl. You just spelled out something that was a major part of my existence for 800 years of my life (aka too long). The amount of dimpled boys with race car heartbeats and perfected charm that I have stayed up late writing poems about are too many to count. Many of which I used to build their very own stage out of ungrounded hopefulness, infatuation and an irresponsible imagination. 

I know how it goes, you find yourself laying in the grass, looking up at the moon and wishing you were brighter, wishing you were as bold as it is. So that maybe, just maybe you could try on bravery for long enough to masquerade as a more confident version of yourself for a little while. Because if you could, that boy, that silly boy would notice you. But Pam, you are not the moon, you never will be the moon. You are a woman, and that is so much more powerful than the moon could ever dream to be. 

So, if you want to, walk up to that boy with your glow, with your fire, with the sass in your step and introduce yourself. But if you don’t, you will still be powerful, and he will just be a boy who stood up on the stage you built him for too long.

Yours Truly,

The Damsel