How NOT to tell them you like them?

One thing you might already know about me... I'm a widow. I'm 27, the exact same age my husband was when he died last year. It's a tricky place to be. Especially, when a year later I feel like I'm ready to see what's out there. I'm not saying I want to actively start dating. I'm definitely not ready for it. But at the end of the day, I'm young and hot and really awesome, and tired of third-wheeling everyone.

I tried dating apps but they're not for me. My widow brain (or maybe heart) is way too picky and loves to overthink. By the time the date happens, I already convince myself it's a horrible idea and a huge mistake. Then I proceed to delete the app and tell myself I'm not ready.

And possibly I'm not. It's very possible that a year is not enough time. God, ten years might not be enough for me to feel ready. But at the same time, I'm not a person who shies away from life. I live my life to the fullest because I owe it to myself. I do it because I used to be convinced my husband had all the time in the world to go places with me and he clearly did not. I don't know how much time I have left, so I might as well go on a damn date, and see how it goes.

Easy enough right? I wish. Not only do I compare everyone to my extremely hot, athletic, and funny husband, but I also can't express my feelings to save my life. I'm petrified of rejection. And I feel like I've been using that word a lot lately since it's been quite a big month for me. I published a book - telling everyone how much I loved my husband. I opened a bookstore - in honor of my husband. And somehow, along the way, I caught feelings for one of my friends. I made my whole life about loving a dead person, just so I could realize there was someone alive I couldn't stop thinking about.

Of course, I couldn't just tell him I liked him. Firstly, I told everyone else but him. Then my friend asked him how he felt about me. According to her, he liked me too but he also gave her a whole list of why it would never work between us. And I already knew that list... because I had the same one in my head. But for some reason, I got so hurt I just had to write a poem about it. And as I usually do when I feel hurt, I didn't hold back.

Yes, I could've just sent him the poem and let him know how I felt, but that would require me actually talking to him. Instead, I waited two weeks just, so I could perform it right in front of him at the open mic. My best friend told me it was a horrible idea. She told me it was an asshole move to say it in front of everyone and not to give him a chance to respond. Me on the other hand, I thought I was a genius. I got to express my feelings while staying in my comfort zone. I didn't have to look at him. I didn't have to hear what he had to say in his response. I just came back to my chair, pretending like I didn't just tell him he was an asshole for not liking me back the way I wanted him to.

When I finally looked at him... he did not look happy at all. I didn't expect him to come up to me and profess his feelings for me but at the same time, I kind of hoped for... I don't know, a conversation?

It's been two days and we basically went back to pretending like nothing happened. The old me would've left it as it is. But the new me - the one who lost the love of her life the day she refused to tell him she loved him just because of her own stubbornness - refused to sit with these emotions and keep wondering what if.

So I texted him. I said exactly how I felt. He hasn't texted back yet. And yes, I hate that sinking feeling in my stomach that I've had for the past hour. I hate that my heart skips a beat every time I get a text message. I wish I could block him and never see his response because I know the list of all the reasons why this would never work. But mostly, I hate the part of me that tells me that I'm not good enough for him to like me back. That I'm too damaged for anyone to love me. And no, it's not him making me feel that way. It's all me. It's the same part of me that tells me that if my husband loved me more... that if I was a better person and loved him better... he would've survived.

He might not respond. Knowing him, he will wait TWO long unbearable days, to give me some stupid answer that will leave me disappointed and slightly heartbroken. And I'm trying to convince myself that it's okay. That maybe one day my heart will open up again and I won't be too damn scared to let them know. Life is too short not to tell people they make your heart skip a beat. And while I'm fully aware of how cheesy it sounds - it's not cheesy when they die before you get to tell them. Then it's just tragic. And believe it or not... it happens.

PS. As my best friend pointed out - doing a poem on how annoyed you are with them in a room full of people, is not an acceptable form of telling them you like them.