Yes You Can Let Go. I Did. 

My posts are usually about relationships but this one’s kinda different.

Alright so I’ve been on a week long binge of Grey’s Anatomy, catching up on the latest seasons whilst stuffing my face with junk.

By the way, Shonda Rhimes is a beast. Pulling a show for 13 seasons with merciless deaths of main characters? Absolute beast mode.

Anyway, while watching the show I thought, “if this is what it means to have relationships as an adult, then I guess I’ll be a child forever.” Literally everyone in the show is so non confrontational and quiet about everything, that it’s impossibly aggravating.

So boom. It happened. I saw a piece of my own life play out in the series with the almost completely opposite result.

Breaking up with your best friend.

 A month or so ago, as I previously mentioned I went through a breakup with someone I cared about immensely. It was a guy. Just someone I stupidly fell for despite multiple warnings from our mutual friends. Anyway, whilst falling for him, my best friend (also a guy) sat on the sidelines giving his commentary on how stupid I was for allowing this to happen again. His rant consisted of, telling me how I was destined to be in nothing but failed relationships, I was borderline a failure who loved heartache, and I loved picking nothing but the same kinda guy who didn’t give a shit about my well being.

All the while simultaneously, cheering on my overly caring antics like some kind of confused twit.

In reality, as I develop this blog you’ll realize just how much of a lie that was. I have dealt with a fascinating array of young men within the past few years.

Ya’ll relationship so cute. Goals man.”

Contradictory huh?

The reason behind this post being, to share just another story of my budding womanhood.

Letting go.

My best friend.

We’ll call him…Alex.

Our relationship began earlier on in our high school years but did not really hit it’s peak until our senior year. We’d ironically been placed in the same  third period gym class together. Being that my gym teacher absolutely adored me, in all of his Russian slightly perverted glory-we were both able to pass easily with an A. We spent our mornings sitting underneath the basketball hoop exchanging story after story and discussing relationships and whatnot. Like clockwork.

Fast forward – prom season approached. There wasn’t much of a variety to choose from, from our senior class so we opted in going with each other.

If he wasn’t completely unattractive to me in all senses of the word, I’d actually have considered it to be romantic.

He was always a far cry from ugly, but was utterly not attractive to me in anyway shape or form. He possessed a shit ton of female qualities.

He gossiped.

He found himself in the middle of female drama all the time.

He threw temper tantrums.

The worst trait of him being either his ignorance or undeserved cockiness. Yet somehow I identified a small piece of myself in Alex. My love for him was more than what our grade saw. He had entered my life, and decided not to leave when things got hard and our efforts were tireless.

Present day.

Here we are 7 years later…disconnected.

Safe to say, I don’t regret it either.

I have walked out of and away from very few things in my life. I feel something is never over until you’ve taken your last breathe trying for it.

Alex and I remained close despite our distance of colleges. I remained in the city and he went upstate. We spoke at least 3-4 times a day especially when our schedules allowed us to in between classes. On weekends he loved calling me bright and early. I didn’t care.

He was my best friend.

Now as a female, it is inevitably a painful fact that you will spend most of your young age dating. You’ll stick your hand in a hole, feeling around till you find something you identify with. It’s human nature. Alex on the other hand, felt differently. He felt by the age of 20, if you hadn’t found your soulmate you were destined to be alone. He felt that way about himself as well. So I spent a GREAT amount of time listening to him wallow in his self pity during his late night phone calls.

Self hatred is a better word.

I grew to watch anger become a deeply embedded hatred in someone that I swore I knew better than I knew myself. He grew tired of “dating” the whores on campus. He put on a front as if he could just have sex and play with their feelings. 

But then in turn, would groan out of frustration they left him, before he could catch his breathe. 

Like the rest of us, he was playing the game blindly. He himself swore he knew the game better than anyone, and stepped above anything I suggested.

Rookie move.

Bare with me, this post is kinda long but you’ll understand why.

Whilst leading himself blindly, into the wildfire of romantic charades – he slowly started to resent me. I mean why would I listen to someone who knew nothing about being with someone? He’d had a total of 1 1/2 questionable relationships to his scoreboard. I on the other hand, had 2 solid relationships. One being 3 1/2 years long and the other nearly a year. In between that gap, I dated…a lot. So I had my brunt to bare. I didn’t mind. I didn’t mind being knocked down time and time again by guys who felt the need to stay one minute and leave the next.

Sarcasm. Brownie point for me.

What’s the worst that was going to happen? I’d bitch about it for a month or so, and say my life was over then bounce back.

After 7 years of friendship he knew that I loved hard. He knew that I was raised to be selfless. Because of that, I suffered from separation anxiety. Once you’ve entered my life and proven yourself to me, I can’t let go. To imagine letting go, was as painful to me as physically ripping my flesh off of my body.

He sat by year after year watching me cry endlessly over heartbreaks. He watched as guys stood by the door and took every opportunity to waltz out.

One night amidst a conversation on the phone, he broke down how our friendship had been drifting apart.

How we needed to stop the repetition of our friendship.

It’d become stale.

The friendship was one sided. He felt as if everything wasn’t necessary anymore.

He felt he needed space.

He’d started finding excuses to justify  wanting to leave. Apparently it’d been my fault. I was “giving the same kind of guy the same chance over and over.” What did that have to do with him? Who the hell was I supposed to date? HIM?

Did I mention that he often “jokingly” dropped hints of wanting to give a romantic relationship with me a chance? 

I legitimately shudder with disgust at the thought of the idea.

Pffffttt…

There it was, my best friend of 7 years…wanting to leave. I mean if everyone else left, why couldn’t he? He’d been waiting for me to chase him, while he taunted me with one foot out the door. And I let him go.

I let him go.

Now if you’re still reading this after that entire rant, then I need you to take away something from this anecdote.

God…though it may be scary to walk this road alone at times, it’ll be okay. It’ll always be okay. 

God sometimes takes people out of your life, whom he seemed deemed to be non beneficial to your being.

My love, it’ll be okay .

Though this road may be dark and dreary, there’s always something better coming. Be alone so you that the in the love you’ve developed for yourself,  it remains there when no one else is.

But what do I know? I’m only 20.

#TheKnockDownChroniclesof20

 

 

 


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