Saying goodbye sucks. It sucks even more when there’s no closure. I met a friend 6 years ago. He was this stand-up guy with whom I shared so many interests. Even the most important part of our spiritual walks were the same. At one point not too far into our acquaintance, I asked if he might be interested in hanging out. He put out there that he wasn’t in a place to be in any kind of relationship, but that he was up to hanging out. So we did.
He was my go-to guy for seeing all of the new Marvel movies because none of my girl friends were into superhero movies. We talked about deep life stuff. I was able to ask him questions from a guy’s perspective that just helped me understand the male mind a bit better. We snapped back and forth all the time. We texted. However, I suppose I was friend zoned. Meanwhile, I was hoping I was becoming a good friend that he would see was perfect for him once he was ready. So I asked if he was in a different place from the last time. This time he said that it was complicated, but he was interested in someone he had known for a while. But he really valued our friendship.
So we kept going to movies. I kept texting him about new music, or our mutual favorite pizza place. All the while, saying bro in my head, but my heart holding onto a bit of hope. Years passed. Things happened that gave me hope over the years. And then came the Instagram post introducing his girlfriend. He looked so happy. She looked so happy. I could only feel happy for him. For them. That he finally found someone to make him happy like he deserves.
The funny thing is that I removed him from my Snapchat a couple of weeks before I ever saw that Instagram post. I needed something to protect my heart just a bit more. Something to stamp down that desire to comment on his stories, to try to feel connected. I met his girlfriend, and she’s beautiful and sweet and makes sense. He’s an adventurer. She’s an adventurer. They share the same faith too. She is GORGEOUS, and the opposite color of hair as mine. It’s hard to not see who she is and not see myself as being inadequate. It’s hard to keep myself from saying, “No wonder he never pursued anything with you.”
I miss the friendship. I miss the connection. How do I get past this friendship that now when I tell my story seems so one-sided? I question whether there’s another person out there who can match up to the quality of this guy. I hope and pray that there is. You see, I never knew a two-parent, loving family growing up, and it’s my dream to have that. How do I save the hope of those dreams as I approach 35?