Wes had pale skin and wore tighter jeans than I did. He was conventionally good-looking, with intense cheekbones, longish-dark hair and a flawless smile. He had a handsome Facebook profile picture when he announced on the Suffolk University 2015 accepted student’s group that he would be living on the 4th floor of the 10 West dormitory that fall. It was that picture that inspired me to message him, letting him know he’d be my neighbor, and offering him my phone number. It was bold, but it worked; Wes did text me.

The two of us met up the second day of school. My Facebook stalking observations portrayed him as an outgoing partier, but I quickly realized that was not his character. In reality Wes was an introvert; the near opposite of myself. Unlike me, Wes didn’t take interest in drinking or partying. Regardless, he always had pot so we got along nicely.

For months Wes and I had a ritual. We’d hang out late at night and walk aimlessly around the Boston Commons with a blunt. If it were windy, he and I would sit in the empty fountains in the Public Garden in order to light up. On the rare occasion either of us had $5, we’d buy cannolis from Mike’s Pastries (if we made the 10pm closing time). We’d talk about whatever issue was prevalent in our lives at the time. I’d often lecture Wes on his inadequacy socially and in school. He never mentioned my shortcomings, although there were many obvious ones.

He’d play John Mayer on his guitar as we sat on the laundry room floor, leaning up against the washing machine, waiting for our clothes to dry with my head on his shoulder. When he played he had me in a trance. I can’t explain the sensation I felt as no written description could do justice. Although most of the time I thought of Wes as just a close friend, in the moments he played for me I was overcome with what I imagined love to feel like.

I came home from clubbing one night full of energy, I texted Wes to ask if he wanted to hangout. The two of us went to a diner at 3 am, Wes wore pajamas and I wore a skimpy dress and heels. Normally when two people are openly attracted to one another they would spend more time under the covers, but Wes and I never reached that point. Instead he accompanied me in whatever activity I felt necessary, most often thrift shopping and smoking. It was the strangest love affair i’ve ever taken part in. For eight months he and I would hangout, occasionally make out, but nothing more.

In a way I used Wes. I used him for the way he looked at me. A boy of very few words, Wes’s eyes said it all. I don’t know why he admired me; I never gave him a reason to. He never told me I was beautiful, or verbally expressed fondness, he didn’t have to. In a way I used Wes as a person to text, knowing he would always be quick to respond. I assumed he had feelings for me, but he never said a word of them. I could kiss Wes without guilt or ignore him as I pleased; at the end of the day he would still answer my calls. He never expected anything from me, commitment-wise or sexually.

I disregarded his feelings in a way only a cold-hearted college freshman would do. He never snapped at me or led me to believe I had hurt him in any way. It irritated me how nonchalant he was about my behavior. I couldn’t get a rise out of him despite how hard I tried. I held out sexually with him, despite how I acted around other guys. I failed to give him any attention, even after being treated similarly by those I chased. Despite months of this he still regarded me with the highest level of respect. I couldn’t get a reaction. He never led me to believe he didn’t care about me, but he never verbalized anything to the contrary. We were at a standstill for eight months, and it was never clear what we were waiting for.

Wes was a talented guitar player, unquestionably my favorite thing about him. When we first met, he promised me he would learn my favorite songs on the guitar, under the condition I would eventually let him kiss me. The first song on his agenda was the ever-so-cliché but beautiful “I Will Follow You Into The Dark” by Death Cab for Cutie. One night I walked past his dorm room to find a note attached to it. The note read “I hear you playing my favorite Death Cab song on the guitar for hours every day, you’re amazing.” It wasn’t that I hadn’t realized before that we weren’t meant to be together, but for the first time it truly sunk in that there was probably somebody out there better for him. We go through life allowing people to play the roles of characters in our lives without truly taking into consideration their needs. I used Wes as reassurance of my self worth.

We lost contact the summer going into our second year of college. I’ve always been told not to let negative people into my life, but with Wes I was the toxic influence. With the exception of a few drunk “I miss you” texts, I let us drift naturally. Occasionally I’ll hear something about him and another girl and I’ll find myself questioning whether or not I missed out on something special. Truthfully, I may have, but he did not.