Today has been hard for me. My emotions are all over the place. I left all of my problems back in my hometown, but the memories are still with me.
I met a boy while I was in an open relationship with my boyfriend at the time. We had been dating for over 2 years and we made ourselves open to meeting others. When I met this boy he looked like he hadn’t left his room in weeks. He wasn’t my type at all and looking back on it I laugh. But after a while I got attached to him. He lives five minutes away from me back home.
We hung out every weekend. We laughed and played games together. He became a best friend to me. Unfortunately, when I tried to ask how he felt about us, it ended badly. I went home crying. A week later, we met to talk about it. He said he didn’t think he was cut out for relationships, but was willing to work towards it. I saw hope. We agreed to try to make things work. Of course they didn’t. Every weekend that I’d come over, we’d have the same vanilla sex, then he’d fall asleep, leaving me to watch The Office by myself for the umpteenth time. I’d had enough.
The day I moved into my dorm was a whirlwind. I got a job opportunity to do a teaser for a potential HBO film. I was told by my sister, who is best friends with his little sister, that he called me his girlfriend when his relatives at a reunion asked about me. But, everything went to shit a couple days later. The teaser job fell through, AND I found out he called me his “girlfriend-thing”. I was furious and so upset. I took a train home, tried to meet with him to talk, and was told “I’m going to an event, I won’t be back until tomorrow”.
So I had to wait at home for him to return. The next day comes and I text him “when will you be home?” No response. I ask his sister when he’ll be back. She tells me “he’s been home for hours”.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. I drove to his house and went straight up to his room. He was sitting at his computer in his boxers and stubble with a look of dread on his face.
We talked for hours about our relationship. He cried in front of me. I asked him if he ever felt anything about me. He said he loved me. It was too late. We ended things and I went home.
He thought he could make amends; he said he’d take me new places, get out and about more, get better for me. I told him there was no fixing this. He got angry with me and tried to bring up me seeing a guy, but this was before he and I were exclusive (my love life is complicated and I’m just so fucking relieved I’m single now).
I blocked him on everything. He even went as far as to find me on Tinder and tell me he wanted to die. This boy was tearing me apart. Leaving him was not easy. I really did love him, but we weren’t good for each other. I enabled him to continue being lazy, and he kept me from growing and being a social person.
Now, I’ve been meeting new people, having an absolute blast in Bushwick, Park Slope, Bed-Stuy and DUMBO, but I keep thinking of home. Of him. I hate him for what he said to me, but I miss him terribly. I haven’t gone to therapy in months because I wanted to be independent, and I don’t have the money for it anymore. This is the hardest part of growth; healing from the past.
I know that time will make things better, but god… right now my wounds are fresh. I miss my cat Banksy, my little sister, my mom and dad, and him. Despite the random hookups, I’m so fucking lonely. I know I need to be single for a while, but I crave love so fiercely and it’s killing me.
Life is so different here. I’ll be okay, I just have to keep on going.
-Alibi
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