I wrote this a few months ago. I guess the situation never resolved itself, but we’ve pushed it below the surface and are ignoring it again. Anyway, I figured I’d share.
Ten years it has been.
Ten years since you sat on my bed and told me you just wanted to be friends.
Ten years since we turned out the lights and I crawled under the sheets next to you, fully dressed so not to appear to be seducing you.
Ten years ago, you pulled me into you, fumbling for a kiss.
Emotionally immature, we lay on my couch, fingers intertwined.
I was your first and you were my last. We never planned more than 6 months ahead.
But ten years has slid past.
A flicker of photographs, a montage of milestones.
Birthdays, graduations, road trips and overseas adventures.
Every major ‘relationship requirement’ met- ikea furniture, a house the cats.
We are the perfect couple.
For ten years you have been my partner, my better half.
Perfect where I am so flawed.
Unwavering as I decide if I wanted to live or die.
Loving when the weight fell off then piled back on.
You rode the rollercoaster of disorder and depression like it was Disneyworld and we had a fast pass. We stagger out of the exit and queue up again, still dizzy from the last ride.
It’s been ten years.
And now you tell me you love her, whilst still loving me.
My close friend. A confidant.
And I can’t even share my doubts or worries with her because she has unconsciously caused them.
I start by taking an understanding approach.
How can you not fall for her?
She is so shiny and I am dull.
Her body is small and taut where mine is large and soft.
Her mind is sharp and clear but mine is muddled and complicated.
I google polyamory.
Try to convince myself I could share you. I can be progressive. Monogamy is a human construct of oppression, I tell myself.
But it’s been ten years since I considered anyone else.
You make excuses to see her, booking expensive tables for three at restaurants while denying me a cheap dinner for two.
We do not exchange cards or gifts for our birthdays but you overspend on hers.
I feel neglected, taken for granted. I cringe when you mention her name, swearing to end the friendship for the sake of my relationship.
But you make plans for her and I so you can keep her around.
For ten years my only security was our love.
And now I have a contingency plan for when you eventually leave me for her.
For the first time in ten years I check your phone.
I gaslight myself into thinking I am overreacting.
But is it overreacting when your ideal afternoon involves laying on her couch, as you one lay on mine ten years ago?