A bosom friend–an intimate friend, you know–a really kindred spirit to whom I can confide my inmost soul. I’ve dreamed of meeting her all my life. I never really supposed I would, but so many of my loveliest dreams have come true all at once that perhaps this one will, too.
L. M. Montgomery
Anne of Green Gables
Writing a hurtful email was wrong and I shouldn’t have done it. I apologized and we seemed to be okay. I mean, as okay as we could be while I was still feeling hurt, angry and humiliated by his infidelity and Side Chick seemed determined to be everywhere I turned.
July 31, 2022 was the happiest I have ever been. I had a long transatlantic flight to reflect on my summer in Portugal. I had somehow gone from the screwup kid who couldn’t get a high school diploma to a UC Berkeley undergrad studying overseas. No, not somehow. I had worked really hard for this. On the flight back from Portugal, I knew that nobody could take away the experience and that I had earned it. Yeah, my college years kept me surrounded by people who were much smarter than I am, but I worked so hard. I deserved my spot.
It’s such a hollow feeling, believing the happiest day of your life has come and gone. It was such an ordinary day, I couldn’t have possibly recognized it when it happened. I know there are people who say that their wedding days were the happiest day. I was all anxiety on my wedding day, stage fright, event management stress (even though my family did most of the managing, I felt responsible for it all). The births of my children were similar days, excited about the future I’d waited a lifetime for, but mostly overwhelmed by the actual events of the day. Some days are just too big to leave enough room for maximum happiness.
It wasn’t the day itself, the chaos of international airports and jet lag that made my trip back the best day. It was the unwavering optimism. I had just accomplished what had once seemed like impossible things and was heading home to a man I loved, having discarded my last stubborn reservations. All of my best dreams were coming true. I was so sure we were going to live a wonderful life together.
Even when I was a kid who thought romance was gross, I wanted a person to call my own. I was ride or die loyal to my friends, but grownups always got in the way. Teachers punish you for talking in class as if anything in a textbook could be as important as connecting with friends. Parents make you separate when the street lights come on, or worse when they just decide to move far away, even though they have cars and kids don’t. Kids don’t get a lot of say in who their person is, ‘cause they can’t control access.
When I was a teenager with a bus pass I finally felt like nobody could come between me and my besties. I mean, grown ups were still awful grounding us and whatnot, but not forever. And then one by one, each of my besties ditched me for some guy (different guys, but the same pattern). I mean, they didn’t think they were ditching me, they were just in love. But it meant I had to wait in line for my turn. As long as my friends insisted on having love lives I was never going to get to be anyone’s person
So I finally gave up and got on the bandwagon. Apparently, the only way to have a forever friend is to fall in love and get married. Then nobody makes you go separate ways when the streetlights turn on and nobody has the right to decide that just one of you is moving far away.
I wasn’t even trying to be someone’s first priority. I don’t want a martyr who will die for me. Give me a partner who will live for me, for themselves, for whatever they need to get them through the day. I don’t need every minute of anybody’s time and I wasn’t offering every moment of mine. I just wanted to have a bosom friend of my own. Someone who keeps me in their top three and doesn’t get taken away from me.
The key to a great relationship is vulnerability. The key to an unbearably painful breakup is also vulnerability. As angry as I was at him, and at myself, I still needed his friendship. There was too much going on in my life. He was the only person I had talked to about most of it. I didn’t have it in me to start the whole conversation from scratch with anyone else. I was in crisis and he was the only one who knew everything that was going on with me.
Yes, he had hurt me, but I needed a friend and calling him out was no way to invite that friendship. I had to push back all of what I felt about how our relationship ended and focus on the friendship. He’d screwed up. We would never be a couple again. I’d screwed up, I’d lashed out in anger. We had to push that all aside if we were going to stay friends. I needed my friend.
Breaking up, especially when you’re still in love, sucks. Even when you know you’re better off, there’s still so much grief. It’s nothing compared to the pain of losing a friendship, though. He was my person, my best friend. I had to focus on how much he meant to me and not on how hurt and angry I was.
I couldn’t lash out again. So, I swallowed down, “you low-class, no-integrity, two-faced, chickenshit, goddamned, motherfucking, cheating, son of a bastard,” and instead, I said, “I love you. I miss you. Call me back.” Every call went straight to voicemail anyway. I was in such a dark place and he was shutting me out. I was on the verge of writing him off.
Under pressure from the colleague who knew I was at my limit with him, he texted me back. I didn’t want to get into it all in writing. Especially, knowing that he was letting his sancha read the things I wrote to him. Such a violation. This was my personal business and I couldn’t trust him to protect my words if I wrote anything down. Just an eight minute phone call, some blind reassurance that it was all going to be okay, would be enough. That shouldn’t have been too much to ask after more than a decade of friendship.
His response was bone-chillingly cold. He was unrecognizable. It was like texting with a total stranger. He let me know that if it was something work related just message him what was needed of him. If it wasn’t work related, there was nothing he could do for me. He let me know this repeatedly. It felt like the scene where John Malkovitch dumps Michelle Pfeiffer in Dangerous Liaisons, but with less warmth than the fictional character gave to his cruelty. “It’s Beyond My Control.” No matter how I approached it, all I got was ice.
There had always been some things that just didn’t add up. This math error just sort of kept nagging at the back of my mind. You see, all along, I’d kept subtracting anything that wasn’t the best version of That Man. That wasn’t the real him. He was just stressed out, exhausted, or distracted. He wasn’t really the kind of person who would do that thing he kept doing. I’ve always struggled with math, but at a certain point you have to trust the data. After our last exchange, I put those parts I hadn’t wanted to see back into the equation.
That text exchange killed whatever shred of respect I still had for him. It finally clicked for me. I was fighting so hard to stay friends with this person who I didn’t even like. I’ve seen behind his mask and I am not impressed. I would never treat a friend the way he was treating me. He’s charming, agreeable to a fault, but he so rarely actually shows up for people. He’s all talk.
When we broke up, I just needed a little time and space to work through it. Instead, what I got was Side Chick trespassing on my work campus, my professional Google Drive documents (which he shared with her), and my social media notifications. She read my most personal and intimate correspondence. Yet, in the end, I was the one he tried to school about boundaries.
That Man and I had irreconcilably different perspectives on what was appropriate going forward. I was struggling under the weight of other things in my life and needed him to be there for me, talk to me, distract me, problem-solve with me. I needed my friend. In my hour of need, he offered me no more than cold professionalism and an admonishment about healthy boundaries.
He wanted me to respect his prioritizing the feelings of the woman he cheated on me with. That was too much for me to give. I was interacting with him platonically because I don’t want a romantic relationship with a cheater. My lack of flirtation, my lack of interest, that’s about my standards. I know all too well now that even when he’s in a relationship, he’s still single. No, thank you. I have no interest in what he has to offer romantically. That is not the same as having any respect for the foolishness that goes on between the two of them.
So yeah, our friendship reached an impasse. I’d still give That Man a kidney if he needed one, but I hope to never speak to him again. As a friend, I deserve better than what he was willing to offer. He must be willing to earn the friendship if he wants to repair it. I’m pretty sure certain places will freeze over first. Until then, I will keep my heart under the floorboards, typing out my side of this tale.
I was in a terrible place, and the person I turned to for support only had salt for my wounds. On top of everything else, our friendship was over. This was my rock bottom. Determined to keep it together for my kids, and feeling like I had no one else to turn to, I ended up calling 988. They couldn’t fix anything, but at least they gave me a stranger willing to give me a few minutes of compassion until I was ready to talk more to the people I know about what was weighing on me.
It wasn’t until our last texts that I understood why people go no-contact after a breakup. I had never blocked a number before his. If I kept him in my life, he would only continue to hurt me. There are few things that hurt more than the death of a close friendship. That Man had managed to make staying friends one of those things.
He is still who I think of first when I’m crying and in need of comfort, even when I was crying over him. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss the man I thought he was. I want the friend I thought I’d had, but I don’t think he ever existed. I know he doesn’t now.
Well you couldn’t be that man that I adored
You don’t seem to know, or seem to care what your heart is for
I don’t know him anymore
There’s nothin’ where he used to lie
Our conversation has run dry
That’s what’s goin’ on
Nothing’s fine, I’m torn
Ednaswap
Torn
Crystal, Clearly 
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