It’s always the guys who initially express interest in you, the ones who you brushed off at first, that end up consuming your thoughts once you give them a chance. The thoughts that they instill creep up on you without warning. It's not until after the boys have exhausted themselves of your presence and have decided you are useless to them that you begin to realize what you missed out on in the beginning.

It wasn’t my fault that he decided to stop talking to me. There was nothing I could have done to prevent it from happening. That’s the way that he was: temporary and ephemeral. I should have foreseen his tendency to enrapture girls, even if I wasn’t impressed with him at first, but he made me feel like I was exceptional. I don’t fall for the charms and fancies most boys pull. I can weed through false statements and deceivingly flattering comments. I can identify rare moments of authenticity. If he ever called me beautiful---I can’t even recall whether he did---I was entirely unfazed.

My fascination with him was present far before my infatuation. Even before I fell for his antics, to me he was always separate from anyone else. He was his own entity, unlike any boy I’d ever seen before. He wore his shoulder-length, curly dark hair in a ponytail and adorned himself in unconventionally stylish clothes that were too big for his lanky frame. He was tall. Too tall for the span of his waist, wrists and legs. If I had a type, he was nothing like it. The most important aspect of them all was his heritage. Of Lebanese descent, he had an olive complexion and an atypical face that was nothing like the “pretty” faces of the white boys at my school. He was Muslim, a detail that sparked my interest immensely. My obsession with Islam had emerged far before I met him, but I would be lying if I said he didn’t influence my decision to start a Muslim Culture Club at my school or to attend Jummah on Fridays. I had no idea what the extent of his devotion was, but I delved into the religion partially out of a passion for a boy’s existence.

He was never adamant about texting me or keeping up with me, but he was consistent. He continued to contact me for weeks and weeks. I thought that my interest in Islam would keep us together. He called me refreshing and said I was not like other girls. I was skeptical about his intentions, but I was interested in his intelligence and how nonchalant his attitude and his mannerisms were. He was far more mature and intellectual than my last boyfriend.

I bought a prom dress right before he ceased to talk to me anymore. Now he is back with his old girlfriend, someone no one can compete with, and I am in love with a fleeting apparition.