.

I met a guy in Miami more than a year ago at an underground warehouse party.

The kind of party where everything feels like it’s happening in a dream — dark lights, sweaty bodies, heavy bass, and naked strangers.

While I was there, this really attractive guy approached me.

He looked like Superman. Tall. White. Handsome. Muscular. A sharp jawline, the kind that makes you stare for half a second longer than you should. And when he saw me, it wasn’t subtle. He didn’t “notice” me. He picked me.

It felt predatory — like I was prey and he had found his hunt. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t sweet. It felt animalistic.

And for some reason… I liked it.

I felt wanted. I felt chosen. Like I was the only thing in the room worth looking at. And that feeling is addictive, especially when you don’t feel it often.

So I let him have me.

Even though he was there with his boyfriend, we hooked up. We had fun. It felt reckless in a way that made it hotter. Like nothing mattered except the moment.

At one point he asked if he could spit on me, and I said yes.

And honestly… I still don’t know how I feel about that. Part of me liked the intensity of it. Another part of me felt strange afterward — like I agreed to something I didn’t fully understand yet. It’s hard to explain. It wasn’t trauma. It wasn’t empowering either. It was just… complicated.

Afterwards we talked for a bit, exchanged Instagrams, and that was that.

He went back to DC.

And I’ve been secretly crushing on him ever since.

—

More than a year passed.

And then just this past weekend, I saw him again in DC.

I went up to him and said hi. Just a simple “hi.” Nothing dramatic.

He said hi back, but something felt… off.

He looked at me differently. Maybe I looked at him differently too. We held eye contact for a moment — just long enough for me to feel the shift — and then we both went back to our nights like we didn’t know each other.

I was with someone that night, but only as friends. He gave me a ride, and since we were both at the party alone, we decided to stick together.

And I couldn’t help wondering: Did my crush think I was dating him?

Maybe that’s why he looked at me the way he did. Like I was off-limits. Or embarrassing. Or not what he remembered.

It was an awkward encounter. All I did was say hi. I was trying to be nice.

But the rest of the night, I could tell he was avoiding me. He wasn’t friendly. He wasn’t warm. It was like he wanted to make sure there was distance between us.

And honestly? I understood.

He’s engaged. He has a boyfriend. And whatever we were that night in Miami… was never meant to become anything more.

But I’m glad I saw him again.

Because sometimes you don’t realize you’re still holding onto a fantasy until you’re forced to see the person in real life — in normal lighting, with real energy, and real choices.

Seeing him again gave me the closure I didn’t know I needed.

Just from that one moment, I could tell it wasn’t right.

Good Bye Superman…