I told him that I was done.

Over twenty-four hours later when he was trying to provoke the playing of a Scrabble word, my text finally received a response: “I don’t even know what that means.”

Done is not code; it’s a pretty clear –almost universal –word, in my opinion. Yet he must have understood as he didn’t ask for further clarification. He only stated, possibly in defense, “You only want me as a noodle anyway.”

These noodley-boys were a perpetual subject of interest for him, constantly under scrutinty, as if a sub-human population with slightly different molecular structure which caused their odd collective behavior. He investigated them like science project with the ever-eager interest of a eight-year-old, constantly questioning. “Tell me what happens with you sleep at their house!” (“I sleep on the couch and when they aren’t too drunk, they remember to find me a pillow.”) Or “When you go out to dinner, how do they know it’s not a date?” (“Because we split the bill and talk about our respective dating prospects.”).

But since I had already told him that I was done, I responded, “No, you weren’t one. My noodles I keep at arms length. I don’t invite them over to cuddle.” A clarification which I had never explicitly said, yet one that was stated infinite times with examples. We had covered, without a doubt, how I treat my noodles. And the non-noodles, well, he never gave me a chance to illustrate; he was busy being unavailable.

He said that he had never seen me that assertive before – that I never say my direct thought. I said that he’s the one playing the games; I only play defense. The conversation ended then, as I had homework, but he said that he’d talk to me later on.

He didn’t. Not that I secretly hoped he would. Because I’m done … and the relieving part about being done is that I don’t have to do anything. The unrelieving part is that I don’t even know if it could have been something; he intrigued me but I don’t know if that would have been enough. I don’t know what I really thought about him and what bothers me most is that I always like to know. Knowing gives me resolution and only then I can stop thinking about it. But I’m done, so I guess that even includes being done thinking.