Page 4 of Wrong Pucking Move
I had to stop myself so many times from texting him or contacting him that I finally blocked his number. I had held onto it way too long, in the hope that maybe he’d message me.
It was time to let that hope go.
And then each month was a little less painful than the last.
I was nothing if not stubborn.
Jesse was not going to win. And winning meant getting over him.
I threw myself into my work teaching 5thgrade. At first it seemed impossible to be able to ignore Philadelphia Heat’s superstar center Jesse Wisniewski. Philadelphia was mad for its professional hockey team, and Jesse had almost immediatelymade the most of his opportunity. He had led the league in goals in his first season, and even made the All-Star team.
I had to face the fact. My unwavering support for him had been completely unnecessary.
He hadn’t really needed me after all.
The way I had encouraged him not to quit, told him his big break would come, spent hours filming and analyzing his form so he could improve? All unnecessary.
He now had the girlfriend fitting an NHL superstar.
With Taylor on his arm, he made celebrity gossip headlines with every trip to a sushi restaurant. At first I had to allow myself one thirty-minute period a week where I feverishly searched the two of them on every social media platform, gorging myself on her beautiful stylish outfits, his gleaming white smile.
The worst was the way his big hand spanned her lower back as he guided her past the paparazzi and into those fancy restaurants or movie theaters, because I remembered how it felt. Like I was the luckiest woman in the world to be loved by him.
Did he say all the same things toherat night?
Did he washherhair in the shower, singing funny little songs about Rapunzel?
Did he kissherafter every game, smelling like heat and power and exhilaration?
I guessed he did.
They had been together a year and the headlines were all speculating about an upcoming engagement.
Well, whywouldn’the wait?
He had exactly what he had clearly wanted.
5 years with me and no ring.
Only 1 year with her and he probably already had a ring picked out.
For a while I wallowed in this pointless misery, in every single picture of them together and every cute fit check and video Taylor posted on her Tiktok.
But slowly I began to realize that a man who flashed a $60K watch at the camera probably had nothing in common with me.
He was still a dog, but we hadn’t been compatible after all.
Then I began needing less than thirty minutes a session to gorge myself with internet stalking, and then one week I didn’t need to do it at all.
I began to start going out on dates again.
Bryan, one of my old friends from college, had messaged me to say if I ever needed a distraction, to give him a call.
I did need a distraction, and he was pretty damn good at it.
We became friends with benefits, and I stayedfaraway from dating any athletes at all.
And then one cold day in January, with the entire city bundled up as tightly as I was, my phone buzzed gently in the pocket of my slacks as I walked home from school.
