Wish You Were Gay


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Welcome to our column written by Managing Editor Caitlyn Araña, called Catching Up With Caitlyn. Through letters, she addresses the trials and tribulations that come with learning and growing as a 20-something. Tune in for your weekly dose of drama. Love, work, relationships, health… Nothing is off limits here.


Dear Brandon*,

You probably should’ve told me that you had a girlfriend. You also should’ve told me that you lived with her. And if you really wanted to keep all of that to yourself, telling me that you had a kid would have also sufficed. You might wonder why I’m writing about you. We were never really together, so why would I feel the need to call you out? Well, let me refresh your memory.

I think a lot about the first time I saw you in the break room—working together probably should’ve been the first red flag. You were easily one of those guys who gave girls half-hearted compliments to keep them wanting more, and that definitely intrigued me.

When you found out that my last day at work was coming up, you offered to buy me a cupcake. I told you that chocolate was my favorite, even though I thought you’d forget. I thought that we’d go on with our lives. However, on my last day of work, sure enough, you surprised me with a cupcake. Chocolate. You took your break as I clocked out so we’d be able to spend that time together, and for a moment, I was absolutely positive that you might have feelings for me. After all, a cupcake is equivalent to a romantic relationship. 

As I was getting ready to leave, you asked, “Are you going to see your boyfriend?” The question felt loaded. Not once had I mentioned being in relationship.

“No, I don’t have one,” I wanted to be as straight up with you as possible.

You nodded at me and then followed me down the stairs. We had been talking for a few weeks, but I had no way to contact you outside of work. Being that this was my last day, I figured that it couldn’t hurt to push you a little more.

“Listen. I’m going to give you my number, but you’re not going to give me yours. And I’m going to wait for you to contact me. If you contact me or not, that’s your choice, but don’t say no because that would really hurt my ego.”

I think that’s as straight-forward as it gets. 

“I’ll give you my Snapchat,” you said, and I immediately forgot all about my rules and agreed. It was better than nothing. I added you, and you waited days to add me back. 

When I went home that day, I texted my best friend to tell her what happened. She said that you either liked me or were gay. Thinking back, I totally wish that you were gay, because I was just not ready for the truth. After texting a mutual friend of ours to tell her what had happened, I was informed that you had a girlfriend… that you lived with. 

No biggie, I thought. We could be friends. Maybe you weren’t happy in your relationship and compensated by buying other girls cupcakes and half-flirting with them. As much as I hate to admit it, I think I was desperate for a relationship. So, I waited around. Our mutual friend, less than ten minutes later, then informed me that you had a whole child with a previous girl that you were with. Needless to say, my mind was boggled. 

For some reason, I still wanted you to be interested in me. With all the mess that came with you, I was still curious about why you didn’t add me back on Snapchat. Then one day you did, for all of two hours. You added me back and snapchatted me. When you got home, you deleted me. This went on for a week. You were playing games that I swore to myself I’d avoid. Before I knew it, I was playing games too. I was posting things solely for you to see… subtweeting… you name it. I was playing games to get the attention of a guy who was in a relationship and the father of a child. 

Enough was enough. I decided to be straight up with you again. I snapped you saying, “You could’ve told me you had a girl. I would’ve left you alone.” I didn’t mean for it to sound as hostile as it did, but regardless of how I meant it, you still deleted me for a final time. Maybe you felt attacked, or like I was accusing you of something. Maybe you felt caught. But, I just wanted to keep things real after all of the false pretenses.

I remember defending you, too. I swore you were a good guy. I swore up and down until I decided I was done playing games with you, and realized that I had just been playing myself. I was mad that you were able to make me question my morals. I am mad. I also feel bad. I feel bad for you, and your relationship. I feel bad that you needed me to validate a part of you that you didn’t feel good enough about. 

So as I sit here writing this letter to you, I’m realizing everything that I did wrong. I realize that I jumped to conclusions, and I chose to be shady. I just wish you were as straight up with me as I was with you. But now that it’s all said and done, I can move past this and you. And, even though I can move on and keep going, I still can’t listen to “wish you were gay” by Billie Eilish without thinking of you.


Only Love,

Caitlyn Mae


*Names have been changed to maintain integrity.