“And that’s when we broke things off…” I sighed as my story trailed off.
“Aw, I’m sorry to hear about you and your ex,” my friend responded sympathetically.
“Oh. We never dated. He was never my boyfriend,” I corrected her.
“But you broke up…?” She questioned. “What were you then?”
It was a loaded question. I didn’t know. What do you call someone who checked to see how you doing each day for months? Whose apartment had basically become your own residence? And who had accompanied you to every formal function and proceeded to drag you home when you no longer could stand after each one? Yet, never felt it was appropriate to grant you the privilege of being his girlfriend? An almost relationship? Someone who’s “basically” your boyfriend? That’s what I would tell my friends when they would ask. I didn’t have an answer that didn’t sound foolish.
I went in thinking it wasn’t going to evolve into anything serious. In fact, the first night I met him I thought he was the creepy tall kid who wouldn’t leave me alone. Fast forward a couple hours, a few shots, and an array of bad decisions, I ended up back at his place. It almost sounds like a shitty rom com plot. But the kid had game. So much so, that I continued to see him. I started pushing away the feelings when they started creeping up, but I became less resistant over time. He insisted it was casual; I wasn’t persuaded.
He had just gotten out of a serious relationship. He was a senior. Those were the reasons why he didn’t want to date me. Yada yada yada…bullshit. He told me there was no future for us. You may wonder why I didn’t just peace the fuck out right then and there. The best way for me to explain it is this: imagine yourself out on a weeknight. You’re at the bar, drinks flowing, friends surrounding you, music blasting. Pure bliss.
In the back of your mind, the thought that you have to wake up for your 8 a.m. creeps up on you and the idea that your hangover alone may kill you is starting to register, but you push it away. That’s what I was doing. I was putting off the pain. I was pushing away the inevitable and enjoying the moment. If you still don’t relate, just understand I’m really bad at making decisions.
I thought I was being oversensitive. Don’t ever let a guy make you think your feelings are unjustified unless you’re crying about the fact that all your wine is gone or your favorite Grey’s character died. Wait…that’s totally justified.
I was under the impression I would change his mind. Even if I did, I’m not sure I could ever overcome the fact that he didn’t feel I was worthy of a relationship for that long. I tried to validate the fact I was making the right choice by staying with someone who couldn’t even muster up the strength to actually date the person he was sleeping with. Fuck exclusive. Fuck “the talking phase.” Either you want me and only me in your life or you don’t.
I learned a lot about myself and as angry as I sound, I’m not…at all. How could I be mad at him when I didn’t have the balls to stand up for what I wanted? Just remember if he isn’t willing to give you something as simple as a status, don’t give him your time. Oh, and fuck him. (not literally,of course). .
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