This is to the man who made me believe.
This is to the man who made me believe I was the “apple of his eye.”
This is to the man who made me believe I could do no wrong.
This is to the man who made me believe forever was too short – that we would be together to infinity and beyond.
Nearly four years ago, I had met you at a sporting event with friends in tow. You were skinny, wearing hip hugging jeans and skate shoes. You had the shaggiest sandy hair one could ever imagine, driving your Mitsubishi Evo, showing you were “all that.” You were everything I had been looking for. Someone with a job, a goal oriented mind, you knew how to handle your money. You were smart and everything fit like a glove. There was always something to talk about, always something going on that we both enjoyed. Your friends were my friends. My friends were your friends. Everything was exactly the way we wanted.
We spent weekends together at your house. Cuddled all night in your room on that stupid futon (we almost broke a few times).. We would play video games, have friends over, go for food; then come back and stay on the couch all day through the night.
There were rough patches, like any couple. We fought. Words were said that neither of us meant to say. I left you.
We didn’t talk. I eventually learned how to live my life without you during that break. We conversed through email when we could, even though you wouldn’t text me. Often I wondered, what had happened to you, where are you, how are you? What did our distance do to change you from who I thought you were?
You lost a family member, your grandmother. You hurt. Away from you, I hurt, she loves us together and wanted to see us happy. We both lost something, but we couldn’t share it.
But there you were again after, saying hello.
You were drunk, very drunk, the first night we hung out. It was a surprise to your friends to see me, I didn’t mind. I loved them too.
The weight you had gained was troublesome to me, I didn’t know you this way. All those nights of ordering pizza and wings… it showed. But looks are not why I was attracted to you. The way you made me feel was always the best, it made me desire to see you again and hope.
We worked, quite well for a while, but the fights came back. Many rumors were spread, and some were true. We stopped seeing each other again.
Though the pain and troubles there were times we found each other, unofficially but true. You didn’t want to date again until you were sure nothing could go wrong, when everything seemed right. Your company picnic was incredible, our summer with everyone together was better the second summer around.
One night in Winter when I introduced you to a friend of mine, we all had some great beers, he couldn’t drive home so I had took him home from your house at three am. On my way taking him home, you sent me a message: “Is he okay? You’re amazing. I love you.”
That was the first time you had said that to me since when I lost you many months ago. I was overjoyed. I was happy. Everything was going to work out, be perfect. That was the night you wanted to be with me again.
Immediately, you changed. You moved, you found a new high paying job, you lost interest in or common bonds. There was no more cuddling, you didn’t allow me to share a bed with you, and I couldn’t stay over, I couldn’t even hold you hand.
There were no dates for us to go on, except to get food that I paid for and things that interested only you.
Then came the lies. You started lying more and more – to me and to yourself. You didn’t want to do anything for me, or “us” anymore. It was always about you, never about us, NEVER about me.
Everything went downhill. We fought more, and we were never intimate. You were afraid of sex, because you were afraid of children. Condoms and me being on the pill, it was not enough for you to reach out and love me physically. This hurt as much as anything, that we could not connect romantically while dating.
The man I once loved was not the same man.
The man I loved was still a man, but not a child, broken and unwilling to change. The highlight of your life was drinking excessively every Saturday, and ignoring everyone he “loves” on Sunday.
We split, again. This time it didn’t seem salvageable. But as a friend, I still cleaned up after your drunken escapades, because I cared and you needed someone to do it. For me, it was to show you I care, and make sure you were ok.
I still cared.
I haven’t seen you in person for more than a month, It still feels weird to me.
You were my best friend You still are a friend, or you could be. You told me we are “better this way due to all the issues you had with relationships and the constant flirting with other girls while we were dating.” Is that what a relationship meant to you? It wasn’t to me.
You didn’t even try to be a friend to me, it was always me trying – in the relationship and after when I was told I was to be just a friend. Even that, you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. You refused.
I don’t know what happened. I didn’t deserve that. I didn’t deserve to be blamed for everything. I didn’t deserve to be kept waiting for when you needed me.
It hurts that I haven’t heard from you in a long time. I hurts that in your eyes, I don’t even exist.
After everything, I would still drop it all if you needed a friend. The truth is, I can’t hate you. No matter how much I want to hate you and never talk to you again; I can’t.
I want you to feel the pain I went through. I want you to look at your dinner one night and not be able to eat it because it was my favorite meal and it reminded you of me. I don’t want that at all.
I deserve better than a half-assed friend. I deserve the friend who met me and wooed me and let me believe I was bound for better. I deserve the friend who was always there, and you do too.
To love someone who once made me believe I was the one for you, and now you believe I was everything wrong for you… that is what hurts.
This isn’t an apology, this isn’t acceptance, this isn’t a plea, and this isn’t an attempt at something new. But it is my time to reflect and know we both could have been better. I’m choosing that road, for me, and knowing we’ll likely not be together again, I hope you choose that road too and we can find ourselves again as the friends we once were somewhere along the way.
I will always love you, but first I will always love me.
Originally published on Thought Catalog.