Hello. It’s me, the girl who guys seem to flock to the minute they break up with their girlfriends. I am the listener. The comforter. The compassion queen who always knows just what to say to make you feel better in your time of desperate vulnerability.
I am your safe haven. Your keeper. Gosh, I am so easy to talk to. I’m so great. Such an amazing person. You are so thankful to have me. I am the one you run to, every time. I’m the girl you talk to every single day. I am your anchor. I’m the cute little therapist tucked away in your back pocket. I am here to get you through your day, and listen to your rants. I help you decode the sources of your emotions that keep you up until four in the morning, spilling your heart out to the girl from high school who you haven’t seen in over five years. I’m the girl you wish you hadn’t fucked over back then, and would love to try to make things work with now. I’m the girl you pretend to respect as I politely decline your offer of anything more than friendship.
I’m the girl you make empty promises to. I’m the girl who you tell to let you know if I ever need anything. You swear I am one of the best friends you have ever had; one who you trust with anything, and swear I can trust you, too. I’m the girl who makes the mistake of actually believing you.
I’m the girl who eventually lets her guard down, and lets you in. I’m the girl who finally opens up to you, in bits and pieces, disguised as empathy. You finally gain my trust. I find comfort in the illusion of your consistency. I mistake you to be different.
I rebuild your confidence. You recover. And suddenly, I stop hearing from you.
I don’t want to appear clingy or too attached, so I don’t really go out of my way to talk to you. I don’t want to be overbearing or seem like a psycho for being bothered by the fact that I stopped hearing from you, so I give you your space. Lo and behold, within that very week of our sudden halt in communication, you have a girlfriend. I am outraged.
The fact that you have a girlfriend isn’t what bothers me, seeing as I previously made it clear that I had no intentions of dating you. The fact that you stop talking to me simply because you’re dating somebody is what has me absolutely furious. In that moment, I remember who I am. I am not your friend. I was never your friend. I was just a temporary, emotionally-comforting convenience with pretty eyes and a way with words. In your eyes, I was nothing more than a placeholder. A beautiful distraction to keep you from looking in the mirror and seeing yourself as the piece of shit that you really were. I was the white flag waving in the sky above this war that you had waged against yourself.
I stop hearing from you, unless I am the one to initiate the conversation. In your absence, I pick up the pieces of what I mistook for a friendship. I rebuild my walls. I question my worth, and why me and my friendship are both so easy for you to just kick to the curb. I question my emotions and whether or not I have validation to feel them.
I promise myself I won’t make the same mistake again. On the rare occasion when I do hear from you, it is just so you can vent about your relationship issues to me. You have no concern for my well-being or catching up. You just need a quick, convenient therapy session. Then you disappear again for months at a time, until the next major fight. Or, of course, the break up.
Eventually, I get tired of your warped-carousel of behavior, I get off the ride. I tell you I’m done. I explain that I am too old for carnivals. You make me out to be the bad guy. You paint yourself the victim of abandonment. You say everyone leaves you.
I wonder why.