Am I bad person?

After my heart got broken in a way that made me feel like I would never be whole again, I went back to my old habits of having casual sex that made me feel more empty than before I did it.

Six long months later at 5pm, I sat on a park bench drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette waiting for my first real date since it all happened. Time passed and passed, and I waited and waited. It was 5:45pm when I realised he wasn’t coming. I messaged him angrily. He didn’t reply. I kept waiting. I knew the moment I stood up and walked away would be real.

Eventually, I swallowed my pride, stood up and turned my back on the hope of a new beginning, with moisture streaming down my cheeks. I wasn’t really crying for the stranger who let me down, but it felt nice to pretend I was. As I walked and cried I imagined the reasons he wouldn’t have shown. I thought he must be dead, and then I thought I didn’t even care if he was dead. I questioned whether or not I’m a good person. I decided I’d tried, and this was a sign. I shouldn’t date. I should stick to the meaningless, empty sex – at least I know what I’m in for.

The next day my phone dinged and dinged again. My messages hadn’t gone through, and neither had his. He was sitting waiting for me. We were back to back, 5 meters apart. We were both alone and we both sat thinking we weren’t even worthy of a cancelation message. Things weren’t as bad as they seemed- they hardly ever are. I wondered if he pictured me dead. I wondered if I’m a good person.