In The Meantime: He Was In Love With His Best Friend

March 18, 2014  |  

 

Note: This series will go in and out of parts. Some will address the ghosts of past relationships, others will talk about current situations, and most will give advice. Pay attention to the page breaks; they help you understand the transitions. Also it would help to read part 1 of this series first. You can find it here.

My last relationship—which lasted three years—started out with amazing dates. We went to gorgeous restaurants, scarfed down pastries at dainty and hidden cafes, and kissed on the promenade. I know most relationships dwindle in the dating aspect, after a while but we seemed to be diminishing faster than the average couple.

At first, it was effort.

We took turns in planning intricate dates. I decided on a picnic at a close by park that hosted a toy boat race. He’d come up with a trip to the planetarium where he could boast his knowledge of the stars and I could smile at his excitement.

Suddenly, he stopped suggesting things. When I spoke about us going out, he’d suggest that we’d stay in and enjoy each other. The first couple of times he said this I was excited about his dedication for one-on-one time but soon I was concerned at how much time we spent on the sofa. Finally, after much complaining we agreed on a date night. Every Tuesday we were supposed to go out and we’d take turns on planning it. On the first Tuesday, after our arrangement, he called early in the morning.

“Babe, I’ve got kind of a family emergency. Can we reschedule for another night?”

I was disappointed, but I completely understood. I told him to handle it and I’d talk to him later.

The next day, I went to his apartment to hang out for a while. I suddenly remembered that I needed to run some errands, but he’d brought me over and I didn’t have my own car. He was overprotective when it came to his brand new Infiniti and I was afraid to ask, if I could use it.

He read my mind, “Babe. Do you want to take my car and handle it?”

I smiled, “Really?”

“I trust you, of course you can.”

Trust.

It’s something that was broken over and over again, in past relationships.

I struggled with trusting the men who claimed to love me.

They struggled with giving me reasons to.

But this was supposed to be different.

This is was my first ‘grown-up’ relationship.

He’d introduced me to his mother.

I’d played with his cousins at family barbecues.

We’d talked about finances and future plans.

Pillow talk: I can’t even envision my future, without you.

Trust is something I decided to let go and let God.

I got into the car and took in the smell of the fresh leather interior. I turned on the built-in GPS and got ready to enter the address I was headed to. The recent destinations popped up. The first:

Selena’s House—7pm—The day before (date night).

Selena was his ‘best friend.’ She was the type of friend who got jealous when he spent too much time with his significant other, always seemed to pop up, and always had an ‘emergency.’ I wondered if his family emergency was really about her. If so, why didn’t he just say so?

I went back into the apartment to inquire, about what I’d found. He was sprawled out on the couch, on the phone.

“Hey, I’ll talk to you later.”

He hung up the phone and I spoke, “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sorry that was Selena. Yeah, sure babe.”

“Selena? Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s great. Why do you ask?”

“You told me you had a family emergency, but your GPS says that you went to see her last night. I wasn’t snooping; it popped up. What was the emergency?”

“She needed to talk. She’s my best friend, she needed me.”

“Why couldn’t you just tell me that? Why’d you lie?”

“Because I knew you’d act like you’re acting right now.”

Naturally, my next line should’ve been that I wasn’t upset, because he went to see her and that I was upset because he lied. However, I just sat there silently. My heart was racing and my intuition danced around the room, mocking me with her pirouettes. I knew something was up.

I was right.

Months later, I’d find out how desperate he was. He vied  for her attention. I’d learn that he longed for her, in the ways that I longed for him. I would also discover that she didn’t want him at all.

That’s the most heartbreaking betrayal. Well, at least from my perspective. It’s one thing when your man is tangoing with someone who is more than willing to learn the steps. However, it’s an entirely different choreography when his prospective partner isn’t even on the dance floor.

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