Dear Reader,  To All The Haters

LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO: Of broken hearts and weird sales tactics

Hello, Dear Readers!

Some of you may remember the post I wrote two years ago that talked a tiny bit about a “sort of” relationship that ended poorly. Unfortunately, after two years of healing and even moving on, one of us can’t seem to get over it and stop talking about it—and it’s not me.

Now, I don’t know how exactly it was brought up, or what was said specifically, but the reason why I’m dredging up this old topic is that the same person who ended what wasn’t even a real relationship has been spreading some misinformation to customers of my brother’s pest control company in order to make a sale for the company he is currently doing summer sales for. He’s saying that he dated me, to gain some kind of authority on knowledge about my brother and my brother’s business. Thankfully, our customers know us and told us about what happened when this “salesman” knocked on their door.

I realize that writing this may be a little petty on my part, but I need a little bit of catharsis, since my name is being used as a sales tactic. I’m writing this because he doesn’t deserve sympathy for what he did, and I want those who know us both to know my side of the story.

Note: I’m not going to use his name in this, because there is no need to. I’m not that petty. This blog is searchable and I’m not out to harm him.

So, here’s the whole story of how I let myself fall for a boy who led me on for three years and broke my heart in a cruel way.

Our story began in 2010, when we met at EFY, a church youth camp of sorts. I thought he looked a lot like a friend of mine who I hadn’t seen in a long time, and he happened to have the same first name. He was the first one to escort me (the boys in my EFY group were awesome at offering their arms to us girls as we walked from activity to activity) and I had to ask him what his last name was, because I knew I would feel bad if he had been the person I thought he looked like, and I didn’t recognize him. He was a little mean to me when I explained that I thought he could have been my other friend. Somehow, that began a weird cycle of us becoming friends and spending a little bit of time together that week.

Move forward a few months- My church was holding a formal dance for those 16 and older, for a replacement of sorts for prom. I wanted a date and went through my options. After a few dead ends, I thought about my new friend who lived nearby and sent him an email letting him know I was available if he wanted to go with me. He thanked me, but said he had already been asked by another girl in his ward (congregation). I ended up going with a different friend and we had a blast.

Move forward to that summer- my family moved into a house that happened to be in his stake. Our congregation met in the same building as his, just at a different time. When I saw him, he immediately gave me a bear hug, unknowingly in front of my parents, which was not the best thing for him. (My mom likes to scare people)

“You’re going to hug my daughter without introducing yourself?” my mom said, rather accusingly, to my amusement.

He freaked out and (with his right arm still holding on to me) stretched out his LEFT hand to shake her hand. To which she replied “Wrong hand.” It was pretty funny to watch, tbh.

Move forward to the next winter- It was time to plan for another church formal. I had asked a guy I had met the previous summer to go with me, but he had began dodging all of my attempts to plan the night. I felt like he was going to flake out on me (which he did), so I preemptively started asking all of my other guy friends, including ‘he who shall not be named.’ I texted him to see if he was available, but he wasn’t. This time, he called to apologize, but to say he had other plans. Me, being the emotional human I am, started crying a little (MUCH to my embarrassment) on the phone. What he didn’t know is that my wavering voice had nothing to do with him rejecting me again, but everything to do with exhausting my last option for a date to the formal. (Silly, I know.)

Later that week at a different church dance, he asked to dance with me and there explained that he was going to ask a girl who’s mother asked him to take to the formal. This girl had had a huge crush on him for a while and he wanted to help her have the date she’d wanted for so long.

A few months later- A friend and I decided we wanted to do a double date to Six Flags. She asked her date, I asked you-know-who. In the week leading up to the date, she and her date backed out. I was upset, because I wanted to go to Six Flags, honestly. So, I told HIM about it and told him we could still go if he wanted, or not. It was up to him. He made the decision that it was okay for us to go alone. The end of the Six Flags date resulted in him asking if he could hug me, and he did. Then I went inside and went to bed because I was exhausted from running around an amusement park.

Fast-forward to the end of summer. I had begun liking a returned missionary in my new ward, who happened to like a girl who had dated my brother (talk about your weird love-triangle). My brother and I had planned on going to a taping of Studio C and I invited the guy I liked, who included my brother’s ex in the plan. So they both got tickets. My brother decided to back out and went on a blind date, so I found myself becoming a third-wheel to the guy I liked and my brother’s ex. I was SO not okay with that. So, I asked the one person I knew who could make the guy I liked a little jealous, who had come up to Provo to start his time at BYU that fall.

My plan worked like a charm! Except one little change-I actually enjoyed the time with HIM and kinda let go of the other plan. After the taping was over, he walked me to my car and gave me a hug before we parted ways. That hug was a LOT longer than I expected and the first time I realized there might have been something more than just friendship between us.

A few months later, I had to attend a play for class and asked him to go with me. After the play was over, he suggested we get Jamba Juice and we had an interesting conversation, that somehow turned into him asking me how I felt about NCMOs (non-committal make outs). AWKWARD. I told him how I felt (Um. Soooooo wrong, thank you very much) and things between us were weird the rest of the night. And for a while after that.

We went on one more date before his mission, where he held my hand. It was a little weird, but it was nice.

Then came his mission. I wrote him, not expecting anything back at first. Not long passed by before he did write me back. And this continued for a while. I wrote encouraging words, hoping to keep him focused on his mission. For me, it didn’t matter if there was something that would be something more when he got home. I was just writing a friend. My thought was that if it did turn into something later, it would be okay, but I’d also be okay if it didn’t.

Friendly letters became more eloquent on his end. Notebook paper turned into romantic looking stationary. Then one day I received a letter that changed everything. He ended his letter with “with love, …” That was when I realized I needed to make a decision of how I really felt about him. I prayed. I cried. I screamed a little. I wasn’t sure how to handle the emotions and anxiety I was feeling, but I knew I either had to break things off abruptly, or allow the little feelings I had grow.

So I let them grow. We kept writing. The letters were more frequent and more tender. I still did what I could to keep my end missionary friendly, but I allowed myself to use the L word a few times in signing off. There were no “I love yous,” but things felt like they were heading that direction. He sent me more than letters a few times. Once, he sent me leaves. Another time, he sent me soap he made.

Then he came home. The day after he was released from being a full-time missionary, he came to institute to see me. He hugged me three times that night (which, if you know about recent RMs, is NOT normal for them to be comfortable with). A couple weeks later, we spent nearly three hours after institute just talking in his car, the two of us alone. We talked about going on dates. He asked me what I wanted to do on those dates. I told him it didn’t matter, as long as we spent time together.

That should have been when he said something.

July 4th, 2015. I invited him to dinner with my family. My mom wasn’t feeling super great and accidentally misspoke and said something about the two of us maybe dating. It came out a little harsh and more of a “so you’re dating my daughter” instead of a “you’re going to take her on a date?”

The next day was the WORST day of my life up to that point. I knew we had to talk, but I was thinking more of a “we haven’t gotten to the relationship point” talk. He had different ideas.

Like the PTSD I have from my car accident, I can still remember the shock of what happened and how it felt like I couldn’t get oxygen into my crushed lungs. It HURT.

We were at church, in the chapel. It was right after sacrament meeting (the main meeting). “We should talk…” I nodded my head, thinking “Okay, we’ll talk, so let’s figure out when.” He sat down on a pew and patted next to him for me to sit. People were still milling around the chapel.

At first he pulled the “I’m not ready for a relationship” card. So, I asked him to tell me if that was the truth, or if he meant he didn’t feel that way about me. His response? “I don’t love you.”

I started crying. He tried to hug me. I didn’t let him. He tried to hold my hand. I pulled away. I don’t really remember the rest of the conversation, but he left to go home, leaving me to stay at the YSA ward by myself. I headed to the bathroom, where the relief society president saw me crying. She told my best friend, who came in to comfort me. She was mad with me. I got in my car, called my other best friend and told her what happened on my way home. I got home and cried. Explained it to my mom. When the first best friend got out of church, she came over and we burned all of his letters and pictures. That helped, a lot.

Near Halloween that year, he and I had a conversation to clear some things up. I told him he was a jerk. I told him that I didn’t hate him any more, but that we wouldn’t be hanging out. I told him that I didn’t want him to do the same thing to another girl, because it was not okay. I told him that he can’t use the L word with a girl who he is “just-friends” with. We rehashed the dates we had been on. We both left that conversation feeling lighter and I felt like the healing process had finally begun.

It didn’t take long for the feelings I had for him to go away. It wasn’t love, not really. However, it did take me awhile to let go of the trust issues I developed. In a way, I’m still fixing myself because of how he hurt me. I don’t regret that we never ‘happened,’ but I do regret the way he made me feel through the entire thing.

If there is anything that could be said from this, it’s that we never officially dated. So it’s pretty sad that he’s telling people that we did. I’ve moved on. So should he. In fact, he’s currently engaged. He has no reason to think about me, and especially no reason to talk about me.

Which brings me to the title of this post. It’s interesting that Taylor Swift happened to drop her first single in three years the day after I found out that he’s been talking about me. It’s fitting that her song is the way it is. Say what you will about the quality of the song, but it is very relatable to my feelings right now.

So, former friend, if somehow you find yourself reading this post, I hope you get over it. I hope you get over us. LET IT GO. You were the one who ruined our friendship. You were the one who broke my heart. You can say you know my family, but do not use me or my name for anything. Have enough respect for yourself to realize that you were the villain in my story. STOP USING ME.

And, for the sake of your fiancée, GROW UP. Be a man. Listen to Kesha’s song “Praying.”

Peace and blessings,

Savannah M. Hawkins

image of me circa 2010.

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