I’m going to get her back.
It was all going great, or so I thought. From the moment we met online (shut up, everyone meets online these days), I knew we had something different. She was outdoorsy, liked mountain climbing and going on hikes with her dog. What kind of dog, you ask? A Husky that she named Balto. A little cliché, but cute, and he loved me too, just like she did. We went on those walks together every Wednesday morning, and I lived for them. That mountain air, and the sun catching the red in her hair, making it glow. It was like a dream.
Now it might as well have been.
She ended it out of the blue, in a little café that we met at for brunch. I was in the middle of talking about the coffee, saying how good I thought it was.
She said, “Maybe it’s better we stop seeing each other.”
I just stared at her.
“I think I need space. I want to be on my own for a while.”
That coffee didn’t taste so good anymore.
I haven’t really been sleeping, but I’ve been going to the gym like a madman. Bulking up, making myself look stronger, leaner. She was always into that, the more active-looking guys. All her exes were positively ripped. Gym rats. Maybe if I show her how much hotter I’ve gotten, how I’ve lost all that baby fat, maybe she’ll come back.
No, not maybe. She will. I’m getting her back.
Good news. I sent her an email yesterday, and she actually responded. Didn’t think she would. I was looking on her Facebook, at our pictures together from our trip to France, and when I took a break to check my email, there it was.
It was short, but the feeling in my chest I got when I saw it was bright and hopeful.
“Hey,” it said.
“Please don’t read too much into this, but I would like to meet for coffee this Friday. It’s not a date, I just really need someone to talk to. I’ve had a rough month, and just talking actually sounds really nice. See you at two, then? Best, Anne.”
I know it said it wasn’t a date. I know. But she wants to see me! I thought she’d ignore it! I’ve got to get ready for Friday now. Maybe get my hair cut, and dyed darker again. My grays have started to come back, and I want to look my best. I want to look like the John she remembers, the one she misses.
She didn’t say she missed me, really, but I can hope.
I’ll move slowly, and we’ll be back together in no time. I’m honestly so excited.
It’s been a long time since that last journal entry, but here I am again. We did end up meeting for coffee.
Things didn’t really go so well. I’m pretty heartbroken.
I got to the coffee shop early, wearing the sweater vest she liked, looking sharp with my new haircut. I got her flat white, which is her favorite. I even wore my glasses, which I hate doing. She used to tell me I looked cute in them.
I was so ready to impress her.
She came in, my Anne, looking like a vision in her gray peacoat and houndstooth scarf, the scarf I bought her. I was sitting in the back, and waved my arm so she could see me.
“Anne, over here!”
Something strange happened as she walked up to me. Her face drained of color. She looked honestly terrified, which made no sense. It was me, couldn’t she see that?
Her blue eyes went wide. “Who are you?”
“What are you talking about? I’m John. We dated for two years.”
She was backing away, shaking her head, her voice tremulous. “You’re not John. Why…why are you dressed like him? Why are you wearing his glasses? What’s going on?”
People were staring now, and it was getting embarrassing. I had no idea why she was freaking out so much. What was wrong with her? Why didn’t she remember me?
“Honey, calm down— ”
She pulled out her phone, held it to her ear, and ran out of the coffee shop.
They took me away after that. The police came in record time, cuffed me, took me away. I’m in a psych facility now. They tell me they searched my apartment, that they found John’s body, drained of blood in the bathtub. He’d been missing for a month. I was wearing his clothes, the clothes he had last been seen in.
Apparently, according to Anne, I’d gone on a date with her once before, but that was it. She barely knew me, she said. I’d made myself look like her boyfriend, all down to his hair color and the pair of glasses he wore. They tell me I’m delusional. The doctors say I’ve convinced myself that I actually am John. They tell me I’m obsessed with her, and that its unhealthy.
They’re lying. I can’t believe she would do this to me. After everything we’ve been through. She’s broken my heart, and my trust. I know she must not want to be with me anymore, but why would she turn me in like this?
I’m not dangerous. I’m not. I’m just her boyfriend, who loves her, and wants to get back with her. I didn’t kill that man. There wasn’t someone in my bathtub; they’re lying. They put him there, and they’re trying to frame me. She’s conspiring against me, because she’s angry with me for some reason. Anne, what did I do? I never did anything wrong.
I’ve upset myself now, but it’s okay. It’ll work out. I’ll get out of here, and I’ll make her forgive me. She can’t keep me away from her.
I’ll get her back. She’s mine. We were together for two years.
She’ll see. I’ll make her see.