I broke up with him. Twice.
Now, he’s past his one-year anniversary in a relationship with my childhood friend.
In the past three years, the most important thing I learned was that there may not have been anything such as fate, but there was timing. Life is all about timing, sweetheart.
Growing up with parents who hated each other but never got a divorce, I wasn’t exactly someone who believed in love. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t a hopeless romantic if that makes sense. I guess I was fascinated with the idea of love, and no matter how much I wanted to believe it would happen to me, I knew it wouldn’t.
I was wrong, which was the first step…
He knew we were friends. She didn’t know I had dated him. It was Thanksgiving as I was moving into my new house when he sent me the text.
“I’m going on a date with (insert childhood friend’s name).”
Remember how that Passenger sang in one of his songs, “Only know you love her when you let her go”? Yeah, that’s what happened to me.
I spent two years hearing “I love you’s” from him and never being able to say it back until he goes on a fucking date with someone else. My excuse, however, is that I was 15 and I had never seen love in real life before I felt it with him. Sue me. I loved him. I still do.
This was the moment I actually found his $50 idea when he sent a pizza to me, telling the delivery guy to say “Will you go to homecoming with me or is this too cheesy,” incredibly romantic and drawing a portrait of me endearing rather than creepy because he was pining for me when we weren’t together.
Guess who pining now? That’s right! MOI!
2. Weighing the possibilities
Our second relationship, he tried to kiss me. I rejected him.
WHY GOD WHYYYYY?
Anyways, after I found out they were together, I wondered if I should tell him. I hooked up with a stranger the following January and because I promised myself I’d keep being friends with him, I told him that night.
We got into a fight where he called me a slut. Don’t worry, he immediately apologized, he’s that kind of guy.
Then, we talked all night very angrily about how I couldn’t kiss him but I could kiss a stranger. He showed a lot of possessiveness and I didn’t know if I was overjoyed or sad because he still wasn’t with me.
For the next month, I debated telling him my feelings.
But what would that mean? Would that mean I wanted him to leave my childhood friend for me? Was I that selfish? Or would I hurt myself to let two people be happy? She really loved him. Unlike me, she knew who she loved just like that. Then again, she was an only child with the most romantic couple of the year as her parents. And of course, she was gorgeous.
What I hated was that, while she grew out of her younger self, I grew into an old and ugly hag.
I told him. He told me he was probably going to break up with her soon due to the constant fights they had in the 2 months.
I thought YAY.
By the way: let’s take in the fact they’re still together as of now, which is more than a year from that conversation.
How horrible am I? This is like Carrie’s affair with Mr. Big all over again, except I don’t get amazing sex or a perfect boyfriend like Aidan to go home to.
And it starts.
The obsession over whether he really is happy or too scared to hurt her when he leaves her for me. You can’t just lose your feelings for someone you said you couldn’t live without after THREE FUCKING MONTHS.
But I haven’t been as ashamed of my creepy behavior since 7th grade when I created a fake facebook account to chat with a guy I thought I loved. Ha!
If I only knew the years of far more torturous love I’d go through in the future, I would have avoided it altogether.
Anyways, I stalked him. Snapchat. Facebook. Instagram. Go to his girlfriend’s (my former friend) Instagram and whine over how her imperfect teeth look way better than my straight teeth smile will ever look. How puberty actually worked out for her while it reversed its job on me.
The normal basic self-hating.
Suffice it to say, my friends were overly pissed.
I deleted him and her from all of my social media for a promised month, trying to tell myself I didn’t love him anymore.
Then I started dating a toxic guy. I was heading off to a great start. He was sweet, okay? He took my mind off of everything and picked up my calls whenever I needed him. Also, he knew how to treat my panic attacks from 100 miles away.
It wasn’t until three months later when I found out how awful of a person he was to others and impossible to change.
Never mind, with the end of one relationship, the other immediately appeared once again.
Bottling my feelings didn’t help when The Chainsmokers kept making popular hits, singing about my life.
“You. Look as good as the day I met you. I forget just why I left you. I was insane.” HOW IS THAT NOT ABOUT ME?
Neither did him texting me at 2 AM, saying how he needed to tell me something. But I was pissed because this “thing” was obviously about him, so yes, I may have said some petty things.
But what can I do? I’m petty.
The short version, I upset him to the point where he left and I felt bad enough to pretend like everything was “ok” and we were back to being “friends.” While I finally accepted my love for him to myself, I knew telling him would only be pointless and hurt the girl who used to be my friend once. It didn’t help anyone.
So I kept quiet.
Moving to a new high school and trying to remain relevant to the people around me, I successfully kept myself busy. The first couple of months was spent towards trying to get the hell back to my old school. But then I noticed the blessing in disguise of a new start.
I joined 3 clubs, started a fellowship on this website, got a volunteer position at a hospital and another news website. I joined leadership conferences with people from across the country and took AP classes. Also, the school newspaper manages to keep the rest of my time occupied.
This is what you have to do. It seems hard, and it’s actually way harder than you think. But you NEED to do this.
I was forced into defeat and thank god I had because I don’t think I could ever force my eyes off the snap he sent 23 seconds ago if not otherwise.
Wait, let me just check it. Yup, another one of his body bragging snaps.
This leads to the next step.
7. Occasional Remembrance
His body is amazing. So is his personality. Everyone has a little bit of bad in them, and no, I don’t mean in the Danny Zuko “bad,” but in general, like insulting people. But still, he was better than anyone I had met in the two decades of my life.
So yea, although I am mostly thinking about myself and how the hell I can go far away from all this drama and hurt, I still have time to think about him in the little spots of times available.
When I wash my face and I remember how he used to love the birthmark on my neck or how I think of the inside jokes we came up with while I’m in the shower. I miss him in everyday activities still.
And I get over it eventually, but some nights are colder than others and, honey, I never wanted a man in my life as much as I want him on those nights.
But I am a woman. And although I crave him more than Nutella on top of vanilla ice cream, I know now that I can move on.
Every. Single. Time.
And you will be able to, too. It’s hard, but if I could get somewhat over it, you can.
You are worth more than this man or this woman or whoever you crave. You go through all these things but from beginning to end, you are stuck with yourself. You are the constant in a sea of variables. People will come and people will go, and while they may take pieces of you with them, make sure they don’t take all of you.
As for those missing pieces, make new ones – with better stability.
You will get through this and you will survive. Just like me.