When An Almost Relationship Comes To A Very Bitter End

I think it happens to a lot of people; the way an important relationship has to end with a nasty fight that involve things you’d swear you’d never tell them in the first few weeks you meet them. Of course, because the first time you saw them—the person that makes your heart jumps out of your ribcage and makes you sweat like a dog in a Chinese restaurant—you are already ahead of the present, you visualize how the two of you will be in a picture perfect future and you never, in your deepest realm of overthinking, anticipate a fight like that.

Who wants to ruin a blossoming head over heels love (admit it—that’s what you thought it was) with being cruel to them in your first few conversations? Nobody. That’s why you try your hardest to be sweet, thoughtful, and selfless. At first you’re on your way on claiming the Nicest Girl Award, just to make them feel comfortable with you. But then it gets natural and you never have to try anymore. The two of you gets along perfectly like jigsaw puzzles.

It will feel like you’re flying each time you’re with them. Like, Gosh. Is this even real? Am I dreaming? And you continue to question the validity of your relationship. Or your existence to him. Because you can never actually question what does not exist: your relationship. You are never committed, and though it’s making you out of your mind and paranoid as fuck, you never have the guts to ask what are we? It has never been official, and you trained yourself to be okay with that. Because it’s really better than nothing, than losing him with your overwhelming question. It’s not fair, you know. It’s a big risk for you. But you endure the suffering of being in the unknown. You trust them with all of your heart, thinking he is worth all the trouble.

And then, it fades. Mainly because it seems to get you nowhere and it turns into a routine. A boring routine. This guy starts to see you as a hobby he’s over with. He’s bored and probably, he has already found a new girl to waste his time with. When this happens, you still try. Because you’re one and a half stupid as fuck, and you believe that a part of your souls really clicked (Idk, but you start using words like that.) It will break you into pieces and shatter your future hopes. But it will not stop you from remembering him the first time you meet him. That is where you will linger: to your memories and first handed ideas that made you love him.

You remember your first kiss in a dark alley, the way he kissed your forehead first before reaching your lips. You remember the way he grabs your waist, or hand, or your pinky finger, and how little things can make your stomach turn. You remember how his long eyelashes almost bat when he smile. You remember his gray sweater he let you borrow one time because you wore a blouse that’s too thin, and he’s so concerned you’d catch flu. You will remember everything, the little things and the big things, and that is why you will hold on.

Idle days will come, and I’m referring to the times when you will barely hear from him. It will make you crazy (as though you are not already crazy), and you will want to text him, to chat him on Facebook, or to call a mutual friend just to ask how they are doing. But you cannot do that. Because you are not really together. In your mind, you deserve all of this torture and suffering. I don’t know why you will do this, but you will let this all happen. You will let him destroy you.

You will try to ask him what’s up. And if you’re lucky, he will tell you generic excuses. ‘I’m busy. Just don’t have time to look at my phone.’ ‘I was with my friend last night.’ ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t able to come, I did (insert school-related excuse).’ But if you’re not lucky, and you will be sooner or later, you’ll not hear anything. You’ll be all alone with your thoughts of why the hell he hasn’t replied to your ten messages when in fact you used to sleep together naked, and linger to each other like you’re his oxygen. The nostalgia will hit you harder, because you’ll be missing him more in these moments. You will need him to tell you that he’s still there, that he’s just genuinely busy and he will make time for you soon. You’ll want a reassurance you’re never getting.

And then you will reach your limit, because you cannot take the paranoia anymore. You dial one of those numbers. The number you’re goddamn sure you’d get an answer. You call his best friend and ask about him, and though you already know what it is, you still want to hear it from a live person. You can actually thank this person because he will be the one to really care for you. He will tell you what you need to know.

He’s with another girl now.

Oh, hang on. Not singular.

He’s actually with different girls.

Girl A. The girl he’s actually serious. The one all of his friends know about. Girl B. The girl he’s with when he’s drunk (you get the idea.) Girl C. The friend-zoned girl he’s using just so—
You don’t need to hear all of it, because you know. You’re one of them and he has exhausted all of you so that’s why he is walking out now. It will feel like death. Because you’re goddamn attached to him and you cannot take how disgusting his ways are. You let him in your system and now he’s all over your veins. You will cry that very moment, and the nights after.

You will now ask him the right question. In which, he will reply.

He will try to feed you with lies and mostly, he’ll deny. But funny how it doesn’t feel right anymore.

You hate him so much that you’d want him to feel twice the pain you’re feeling now. But he can never suffer as much because he never truly cares. You will throw it in his face all the things he told before, things he swore he’d never be. And it will make him quiet as fuck because he damn knows well that he’s out of excuses.

And then he’ll give up, be the dipshit asshole he is, and just say, ‘you know what go fuck yourself. You always say a lot of things. You always assume. We are not even in a relationship, and I don’t understand why I need to explain—’

Some one night stands don’t last overnight; some last for four months. It really depends on how long you wake up. And you just did. This is where you will say, ‘go fuck yourself, too.’ And never look back. You need to go home. It’s going to be okay.