Bad at Words

Well, it seems to me that the best relationships – the ones that last – are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship. You know, one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. Like a switch has been flicked somewhere. And the person who was just a friend is… suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with.

Gillian Anderson

For a very long time, the Work Bestie was not a text person. Part of this was that he was still having to push the 2 multiple times to get to the letter C when most of us were already using smartphones. Part of this is that he has the opposite of a way with words. If there is a wrong way to say something, he’ll probably find it. In person, his charm outweighs his word choice, over text, not so much. When we started texting he made me promise that if he sent a text that could be taken more than one way, and there was a way in which he was being a jerk, and a way in which he was not being a jerk, I would assume he meant it the good way.

It’s not just a matter of misspeaking, he and I patently disagree about the meaning of some words. I will forever call the long-term students at our work (who are learning a specific set of trade skills in a hands-on environment) apprentices, and he will forever call them interns, despite the fact that they are not fetching us coffee, or making photocopies, or studying elsewhere while at our work short term to learn from and observe professionals in a field they might want to go into later. He’s wrong. He’s just wrong. He is bad at choosing words, but I have a lot of experience translating him.

Well into our unlabeled relationship, we were talking on the phone, as long distance relationships so often require. Then his tone abruptly shifted from flirty to accusatory and he asked me about my next date, and I was so confused because I didn’t think we’d ever had an official date other than my cousin’s wedding, and wedding dates aren’t normal dates, and it was such weird phrasing. I mean, we’d had some nice dinners together, but I don’t think they were officially dates. And so I said I haven’t been on an actual date in years, and he got all huffy and reminded me that back in August, I’d gone out with “that guy.” And it took me a minute, but then I was all, oh yeah, 

An old friend had been passing through town, and we went out for dinner. I was salty with the Work Bestie at the time. A few weeks earlier, I had flown down for the July 2021 workshop at our work campus. While I was there he told me that a student had just asked him if he was single, and he’d said yes. I hated everything about that.

Why was I even there? Why was he telling me this? If he doesn’t want people to know he’s involved with a colleague, he could at least say that he’s seeing someone and then decline to give further information. We were staying in the same room on campus, but he was still telling people he was single.

We were way past the free sample stage, in my opinion. Either he liked me, or he didn’t, but he knew who I was and should have been able to make a decision already. Well, anyway, it left a bad taste in my mouth. It took a certain amount of willpower to not make his words retroactively accurate. It’s just, I didn’t want to spend a rare weekend together fighting only to make up later, after we were hundreds of miles apart. Our time together was rare and precious and I didn’t want to waste it bickering. I certainly didn’t want to go to war over bad word choice.

It was only a few weeks later, and I was still feeling salty about it, when that friend was in town. The Work Bestie kept texting me things that, in hindsight, were probably just him overcompensating for having previously been in a no-friends-of-the-opposite-sex relationship and trying to be chill and supportive. Unfortunately, I read the “have a good time” texts as “go ahead and get laid because we’re never gonna be official.” So, even though I hadn’t originally intended to, I kissed my friend after dinner. I told the Work Bestie about it later that night. It was never meant to be a secret. If the Work Bestie wanted to keep our options open, then our options were going to be mutually open.

Anyway, I eventually realized that that was the date he was referring to, and I scoffed and pointed out that the friend I kissed was not someone I date. We sometimes make out, if neither of us is betraying the trust of any outside parties, but even when we’re both completely single, it doesn’t go far. I can’t be the only person who sometimes smooches certain friends when I’ve been single for too long, right? I just really like kissing.

This wasn’t even that though. It was an unhealthy dynamic I sometimes fall into, spite-kissing. It was sort of a, there’s-no-ring-on-my-finger tantrum. I was kissing my friend that night because I was mad at the Work Bestie for rubbing my nose in our lack of official status. I feel a little bad for my friend because no one should be a consolation prize kiss, let alone a spite kiss. Don’t feel too bad for him though, he’s a very good kisser, and plenty of women know it.

The point is, the Work Bestie certainly doesn’t get to be upset about it. It wasn’t a healthy choice on my part, and I don’t intend to do that again, but if he wants to tell people we’re single, let’s be single. Then the Work Bestie said that he was definitely upset by it. And I interrupted to call bullshit because four years is a long time to just hang out with no label, no commitment, and if he’s free to see other people, so am I. 

Then he was all, “What, you want me to put a ring on it?” And I rolled my eyes so hard you’d think I was trying to see my own tonsils. I started to explain that it’s not unreasonable to want something four years in, but then he interrupted with, “Let’s get married then.” And it took a couple of beats with me going on about what I had been saying about how he’s had plenty of time to figure out if he likes me before that sentence really hit. I kind of broke down like a robot with an impossible question and then I was all, “No, that’s not what I’m saying; wait, is that really what you’re saying?” and I was kinda arguing out loud with myself at this point, and then his phone died. 

I texted him a long thing about how I’m impulsive by nature. I won’t back down from dares, so I will marry his dumb ass if that’s what he wants, but I was just talking about monogamy, official monogamy, and I hadn’t wanted to have any more babies, but I know he does, and I don’t know, and there are so many steps in between, and ALL the logistics, like how we live on opposite ends of the state.

He called me the next afternoon and was all, “Well, did you figure it out?” And I was like, “figure what out?” And he said, “the logistics.” I reiterated that that wasn’t what I was asking for. And he was all, “Fine if you don’t want to.”  And I was like, “Oh no, you aren’t gonna play it like that. If you really want to get married, I will figure out the logistics, but I’m not putting my time and energy into working that out for nothing. So you wanna do it, then let’s do this.” And it seemed like maybe we might end up double-dog daring each other into matrimony without ever being officially boyfriend and girlfriend first.

Then he teased me about overthinking everything. Being an honest person, I cannot argue that he’s wrong. Then he said it was adorable, which I didn’t agree with as much, but before I could object, he asked what my favorite restaurant was. I’m easily distracted, so I went on about how I like dark places and places that fill my water glass, but also I like my own cooking, except I can’t cook Asian food, and then he teased me about overthinking again and said that the next time he comes up to visit me, he’ll be sure to take me out to a nice Asian restaurant and then I asked, “like on a real date?” And he laughed and said yes.

I don’t know if that was a fight, a marriage proposal, both, or neither. I know that I would have done it, though. If he had clearly stated that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, and I knew he meant it, I would have been on the next flight to the wedding chapel of his choice. We had a conversation shortly after where I was still being salty about the murkiness of our relationship status. He asked “are you monogamous?” and I said “yes,” and he said that he was monogamous. Then he declared, “we’re monogamous.”

I overthought that, too. I dissected it alone, with my family, and with friends. Like, did he just mean we have, up to this point, been monogamous? Or did he mean, like, as a species, humans are monogamous? When my nerves settled down, and taking into account how those who indulged me in dissecting it were unanimous, it sank in. Even for somebody as bad at words as the Work Bestie, there’s only one reasonable way to take such a declaration. We’re monogamous means we’re monogamous. And that was all I needed from him. We were really doing this, for real. After so many years of going together, we were finally going steady.

We were officially exclusive! Squee!

You keep your distance via the system of touch
And gentle persuasion
I’m lost in admiration, could I need you this much?
Oh, you’re wasting my time
You’re just, just, just wasting time
Something happens and I’m head over heels
I never find out until I’m head over heels

Tears for Fears
Head Over Heels