I met him on Hinge in January.
He was funny, well-spoken, and worked at a startup. He lived with his parents in Noida, which I didn't mind because I did too. We were both saving money and trying to figure out what adulthood was supposed to look like.
Our first date was at a small café near Sector 18. He remembered my coffee order from our chats, which was a small thing but ridiculously effective.
We went on three dates in two weeks.
The third date was different. We sat in his car after dinner, talking about relationships, childhood, and the things we were afraid to admit to people.
He told me his last relationship had ended badly. I told him I wasn't interested in becoming someone's rebound.
He looked at me and said, "I'm not looking for anyone to replace her."
I believed him.
That night, we kissed for the first time.
It wasn't planned. We'd been laughing about something stupid, and suddenly the conversation stopped. He looked at me, I looked at him, and the silence became its own answer.
A few days later, we were sitting together when his phone lit up.
A message from his ex.
I wasn't trying to snoop, but the name was visible. He turned the phone over almost immediately.
I asked whether they were still talking.
He said she occasionally contacted him and that it meant nothing.
I wanted to believe him. I really did.
But over the next two weeks, he started becoming inconsistent. Some days he'd call me for an hour. Other days he'd disappear and return with a vague explanation about being busy.
One evening, I asked him directly whether he was ready to date.
He admitted that he still had feelings for his ex.
I was hurt, mostly because I'd given him several opportunities to tell me the truth.
I ended things before I became more attached.
Three months later, I saw a picture of them together on Instagram.
They were back together.
My friends told me I'd dodged a bullet. Maybe I had. But I still remember how good those first dates felt, and that's the part that annoys me.
Someone can make you feel special without being emotionally available enough to build something with you.
The confession: I wasn't angry that he still loved his ex. I was angry that he let me believe he was ready to love someone new.