A little over a week ago, I heard the dreaded words “let’s be friends” by the person I had been thinking about since I met, but broke my heart earlier this year.
Fast forward to June of this year: I’m happy and in a better place now. Not only have I been working through my (many) issues in therapy, I had finally gotten my degree, a job in my field, and was going to the gym three times a week. I wasn’t just crying over him every night anymore. Life was good.
Then one morning, I got the Tinder ping. Not only had he matched with me—yes, I swiped right. I was (let’s go with) curious—he messaged me, “I miss you so much.”
I didn’t think he really meant it. The last time we spoke, we got into an argument and I really thought he never wanted to speak to me again.
But since he sent that I miss you text, we began talking every day. I began wondering when he would message me back and smile every time he did. Somehow my goal to soothe this feeling that my ex didn’t actually hate me in order to move on, was only evolving into me catching feelings for him again.
I told him we should pick this back up when I was ready to actually be friends. He told me we should get back together.
I tried my best to go about it logically and not get my hopes up. But he texted me every day. He called me babe. He once again brought up the future. I know I was a fool for thinking this could be real, but how was I not supposed to believe he finally felt the same way?
We ended up meeting on a Friday night only for him to admit he didn’t know what he wanted, all he knew was that he wanted me in his life.
“But we’re not friends… so how do you see me in your life?” I asked him.
“…I don’t know. Like this? Like seeing you around at shows? I’m friends with all of my exes.”
“Didn’t you fuck your ex without protection before you met me? You never told me who it was, but I guessed it because of how all over your social media she was, and how she was constantly messaging you.”
*Silence from him.*
“So why did you even say that you wanted to try again if you weren’t sure?”
“I was just scared you were going to press the delete button again and I didn’t want that.”
“That was really selfish of you… You can’t just fuck with people’s emotions like that… I was finally okay. I was finally moving on from you.”
For an hour we went back and forth about the breakup, our argument months later, and the potential outcomes of actually meeting up. He said he didn’t want to commit to anyone—to which I interjected that he really meant commit to me—and even when we parted ways, nothing seemed certain or resolved, really. The only thing certain was I felt played… again.
But never in a million years did I think he would intentionally hurt me. He was just confused, right?
I texted him when I got home that while I thought his actions were completely selfish, I’m glad that we didn’t hate each other and that we both did want one another in our lives.
He replied that he got my messages, but would take a while to reply. He never did. A few days later, he posted a girl on his Instagram story with the caption “babe.”
I was already building up anger at that point. Only after waiting for a response, playing the scene over and over in my head, and realizing how fucking selfish he was truly being.
Someone who truly cared about me wouldn’t treat me like I was fucking disposable.
For SEVEN long months now, not only was I blaming myself and absolving him of any responsibility for the breakup, I was also continuously telling him much I care about him.
Even when he impulsively told me he wanted to be with me and took it all back once again.
So for the first time, I’m being completely honest about our relationship:
You tell me, “let’s be friends,” but let’s not. Let’s just be real for fucking once.
You don’t want me in your life as a friend, you want me as another contributor to your emotional validation. Just like your other exes that you’re “friends” with.
You don’t want to be my friend, you want proof that you’re a “good guy” who never means to hurt anyone. Because you’re friends with all of your exes. And if nobody hates you for hurting them, that obviously means you didn’t hurt them.
You want to be able to fuck me without protection when you’re lonely. Because you know I’m here waiting for you to finally “PICK ME!” when you’re finally—hopefully—ready to commit.
You want me in your life because you know that I would let you treat me like shit and still blame myself. So you don’t have to feel guilty for anything, right? After all, we’re “just friends.”
You want to be able to lean on me when you’re sad and act like my boyfriend without the responsibility for my feelings or giving me any of your time.
Friends don’t do that to each other. Friends don’t use one another to lay their emotional baggage just because they can.
Just because I might have feelings for you, it doesn’t mean you can use that against me to always be there for you. I can’t put up with that kind of shit anymore. You’re not my friend.
My friend wouldn’t post another girl on his story after he told me he doesn’t want to “commit to anyone right now.” My friend wouldn’t leave me hanging for a week when I’m obviously emotionally distraught about our relationship. My friend wouldn’t constantly put his feelings above mine because that’s what he wants and what he thinks is best for him.
So no. Let’s not be friends. I don’t want to be friends with pieces of shit.
And you’re lucky that girls are so understanding and love so goddamn hard. Even when you don’t deserve it. Because for every dumb bitch like me who would wait seven months in hopes that you would finally come around, see me for who I really am, and finally choose to be with me—there’s probably a lot more where I came from.
But you’ll probably treat them all like shit too.