The time finally came to sell my house. The days leading up to the closing were stressful. Between the divorce, packing, moving, and trying to rebuild my life, the house had become one more thing hanging over my head.
I hadn’t seen much of either guy recently, although I had seen even less of Chris.
I took the day off work for the closing. It was strange knowing I would be walking through that chapter of my life one last time.
The sale went through without any issues. I saw my ex-husband for what I hope was the last time ever. There was no dramatic goodbye. No emotional conversation. Just paperwork, signatures, and the quiet realization that this part of my life was finally over. Or at least as over as it could be.
Afterward, I spent the day running errands. I deposited the money from the sale. I returned my Verizon router. I checked off all the boring administrative tasks that somehow feel monumental after a major life event.
That evening, I had plans to have dinner with my grandfather.
I told Chris I would try to stop by before, but between the errands, traffic, and dinner, it became clear I wasn’t going to make it.
He wasn’t happy.
Our text conversation went something like this:
Chris: I am here. Whenever you want to come over. No pressure.
Me: You keep saying that, but when I don’t come over, you get upset.
Chris: You’re right. I want more than that.
Me: I can’t give you that. With everything I have going on, I’m just trying to keep my head above water.
And just like that, the conversation I had been dreading sort of happened on its own.
Chris realized he wanted more than I could give.
The truth was that I knew that already.
I had been wrestling with how to explain that our relationship wasn’t progressing the way I had hoped. He was a genuinely good person, and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt him.
In the end, I was relieved I didn’t have to tell him that the physical chemistry simply wasn’t there for me.
That conversation would have been much harder. Chris deserved someone who was excited about him in every way.
And I knew I wasn’t that person.
Once my errands were finished and dinner with my grandfather was over, Jack texted and asked if I wanted to come over.
His apartment was less than a mile from mine, making the decision easy.
When I arrived, though, something felt different.
We settled in and watched another Harry Potter movie, continuing our mission to correct the fact that he had somehow made it through life without seeing them.
But Jack was quiet.
Really quiet.
Normally, conversation between us flowed effortlessly. We could talk about anything and everything.
That night felt different. He wasn’t rude. He wasn’t distant.
He just seemed… off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
The next day, he apologized. He explained that sometimes he gets moody and retreats into his own head.
I appreciated the apology. I also appreciated that he recognized it.
But if I’m being honest, it still left me feeling uneasy.
One of the things I admired most about Jack was how well he communicated. As a school counselor, he was usually incredibly thoughtful and articulate when discussing emotions.
So when he seemed unable or unwilling to explain what was bothering him, it stood out.
Maybe it was nothing. But it stuck with me.
That Saturday, we spent the entire day together. It was one of those simple dates that somehow becomes memorable because everything feels easy.
We grabbed burgers from a new spot in town. I picked up flagels from my favorite place for breakfast the next morning. We finished the last Harry Potter movie, celebrating the fact that he was finally becoming a functioning member of society.
The night was great. Comfortable. Easy. Fun.
Exactly the kind of day I wanted after the stress of the previous few weeks.
The next morning, Jack made breakfast. As we sat and talked, I noticed some of my things had begun accumulating at his apartment.
A few toiletries. A couple odds and ends. Nothing significant. But enough to notice.
At the same time, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still slightly off.
Maybe it was him. Maybe it was me. Maybe I was simply exhausted.
The house sale had taken a lot out of me emotionally, even if I didn’t fully realize it yet.
Whatever the reason, the strange feeling lingered.
When I left that morning, I was the quiet one.
I was tired. I was overthinking.
And for the first time in a while, I wasn’t entirely sure what to make of everything.
Between The Matches 
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