I know what you’re thinking, and I’m thinking it, too. “Typical: another girl who thinks she can do the no strings attached thing, but instead catches feelings and proves the stereotype that women are overly emotional.” Maybe I’m generalizing and you don’t think that all. However, if you are thinking that, you aren’t wrong—not even in the slightest. After almost six months of sleeping with the same guy, I fell … hard. I hadn’t even realised it until the end was right there staring me in the face. I would like to say that this story is not like every other friends with benefits cautionary tale, but I am not so sure that it isn’t. Before I get ahead of myself and begrudgingly express the silver lining (trust me, there is one), let me tell you how this all happened.
I met Jason* back in my senior year of high school. We went to different schools and, even though we had a lot of mutual friends, the only time we ever met while in high school? was briefly at a party. After that, I completely forgot he even existed (how I will miss those days) until, after moving to a new city for university?, he came across my Tinder. He had a picture from prom standing in the same spot that I stood and took my prom pictures, probably only weeks apart. We had a short “Hey, don’t I know you?” conversation before agreeing to meet and go for a drive as we both had missed doing since leaving our hometown.
Jason and I sparked a friendship almost immediately and continued spending time together as friends, until I went out with a guy who could not handle me being friends with someone who “clearly liked me.” Even when that fling ended, Jason and I did not see each other until New Year’s Eve, when I grabbed his face and kissed him before leaving the party well before the clock struck midnight. In second semester, we went on one date before eventually fizzling out again. I liked him, but he was not giving me any indication that he felt the same, and I’m not the kind of person to push something that isn’t there. I thought that would be the end of things: we had our moment kissing in a crowded kitchen on New Year’s Eve, and now we were going our separate ways.
It was not until the semester drew to a close that I got a text from Jason asking if I would be staying in town for the summer. I was, and we made plans to hang out after my short summer trip. It only took me a couple weeks to realize his original FWB had moved home for the summer and I was simply the next best option. To be completely honest, I didn’t even care. I had just ended things with my past FWB and needed a rebound. So, there we were, both fully uncommitted and crazily sexually attracted to each other. If you haven’t already figured this out, it was a recipe for disaster. He talked openly about his emotional boundaries and how he was always prepared to cut off any girl who caught feelings for him. He had done it before and he would do it again. Point blank. Weeks later, when I started to think I might be catching feelings, I decided to tell him. That way, he could feel free to disappear and save us both any turmoil. Only, he decided not to leave. He told me he was not sure what he felt, but he did not want to lose what we had.
Fast forward a few weeks, and he finally reciprocated my feelings completely. This didn’t mean he wanted any kind of commitment, but he wanted me to know. From then on, we spent the night at each other’s places half the time. He gradually started meeting my friends and coming out with us on weekends. We were both really happy. We had admitted we liked each other, but we both liked the sex more. Our feelings were welcomed, but always kept to the side, a non-issue for us both. We became inseparable, no topic was off limits, and we were always supportive of each other. This worked for far longer than it should have. We had talked about the possibility of sleeping with other people and, since we were never exclusive, it was always on the table. I never did—not that I didn’t have opportunities, but every time I came close, it just didn’t seem right if it was not Jason. When his original FWB came back into town he almost hooked up with her again before realizing he could only think of me while it happened. After joking one night about finding replacements for each other (I wanted to shave my head and he didn’t think I would be “hot” anymore), we laughed about only sleeping together one more time before starting the search. I didn’t think it would turn out to be true.
The next night, he came over to drop off something that I had left at his place, and I instantly knew something was wrong. He was not an overly warm and fuzzy person, but for the first time in a long time, he made the room feel freezing cold. When I asked him what he had done for dinner, he quickly said that he went out with friends, which would be completely out of character and I knew had to be a lie. He left right away and didn’t even bother to kiss me goodbye, yet again acting out of character. Fifteen minutes later, I got a text saying what I already knew: he sucked at lying and he had been on a date. If this had been the whole truth, I really would not have minded, I went on dates every once in awhile and was in no position to chastise him for doing the same. But it wasn’t just a date—it was a date with a girl he had hooked up with in the past, and they had slept together not even an hour before he was at my door. I knew right away I needed to end things. It hurt too much, and I couldn’t let myself hold back my feelings any longer. I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch something. I knew he was not mine and I was not his, but the thought of him wanting someone that was not me and acting on it set my whole body on fire. For hours, he tried to fight for me, but I only became more angry and increasingly aware that I deserved more than what we were.
The next day, my roommate took me for ice cream and I screamed the lyrics to “Mr. Brightside” until my throat was raw. We compared him to a baked potato, a food I loathe, and talked about how stupid I had been. While trying to heal through humility, I was actually hurting terribly. One part sadness and the other part anger, I was nearly inconsolable. I felt dirty, like I needed to shower him off, but at the same time, I wanted to bask in the filth of our situation in order to keep it alive. I think that we hold onto things until we have been taught what we need to learn from them. I am young, confused, and (more than ever) willing to get hurt. I will miss the late night drives, honest talks, and holding hands while watching the sun go down, but those are things I can do by myself (I will hold my own hand proudly). Eventually, I will forget our inside jokes and the vocabulary we grew to share, but I will not forget how he made me feel, both good and bad.
I was raised better than to cry over spilled milk and, as desperate as this all sounds, I did speak of a silver lining, and I like to keep my promises.
So, Jason was not the guy for me, and thank the heavens for that. I am one step closer to figuring out what I want. I am not just talking about a relationship (or lack thereof), but in my life as a whole. I do not want a relationship. I do not want a friend with benefits. I want to be the best version of myself, and that does not include a baked potato, thank you very much. Maybe one day, Jason and I can be just friends, but for right now, I’m just going to keep making my very best mistakes. With every mess I make, I simply learn to clean up better.
*name changed