This year on Valentine’s Day, after much persuasion, I finally got Cole to take me to that trendy couples’ restaurant everyone raved about.

Just as we sat down and started to order, Nadia’s call came through.

“Cut it out; you’re more sensible than she is. I’ll be back soon.”

With those words, Cole left.

I waited until the restaurant closed, but he never returned.

That’s it, I’ve had enough.

Waiting for someone who never shows up is futile.

Cole, I’m done. I’m begging you to leave.

——

The restaurant truly lived up to its viral fame.

Both the ambiance and the food justified the effort I put into snagging a reservation after several late nights.

But now, even the tastiest food seemed flavorless.

Because of the Valentine’s Day-themed event, the place was packed with couples.

Despite their varied ages and appearances, all guests wore happiness on their faces.

There I was, dining alone, an anomaly in this setting.

I kept my head down, scrolling through my phone to hide my discomfort.

That was when I saw Nadia’s latest post on social media.

[Never learned to grow up, but luckily, there’s always someone to tolerate my whims.]

The post included two pictures of Cole and her – one from their graduation, and another apparently taken today.

Good for them.

What a Perfect match.

Truly deserving of their college’s golden boy and girl title.

Cole, I thought I could wait for you.

I’m sorry. I was deluding myself.

I turned off my phone, stuffed the last piece of now-cold steak into my mouth, and left.

[100 people ahead of you, estimated wait time: 30 minutes.]

True to form, getting a cab downtown on Valentine’s Day was next to impossible.

Even the cab app honestly told you how long you’d have to wait.

But Cole couldn’t manage that.

He’d give you hope, telling you to wait for him.

But he never said how long.

Like today, I waited until eleven, until the restaurant closed, and Cole still hadn’t come back.

Yet he kindly sent a message, telling me to take a cab home.

He even remembered to remind me to let him know once I was home.

And of course, there were those never-forgotten explanations and justifications.

[Nadia’s not feeling well. I had to take her home to be sure.]

[Take care and try to get some sleep early.]

He was not unaware of the dangers a girl would face taking a cab alone at night.

But while he could escort Nadia, he couldn’t do the same for me.

Because I was more sensible than Nadia, as he said.

Cole always said what he loved most about me was my sensibility and compliance.

Whenever he mentioned this, he’d always add, “Not like Nadia, who’s been spoiled from a young age.”

But Cole was wrong.

Sensibility isn’t innate.

Even the most sensible people wouldn’t want to be sensible forever.

He might not realize, but what I hated most was when he said, “You’re more compliant than Nadia; you’re more sensible than her; you’re better than her.”

But I never wanted to be compared to Nadia.

Comparison meant he was judging, choosing, weighing me against Nadia.

Even though he always concluded that I was better, his choice had never been me.