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This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at VCU chapter.

*This article was written by a member of the Her Campus VCU Staff, but names have been withheld to protect the individuals involved*

Some have justified lying by saying they lied in order to save someone else’s feelings, but all too often lying only makes things worse. The biggest lie ever told to me was that I was “the one.” And for a while those few choice words made me feel desired, but the truth was that I was the side chick.

There’s this dishonor that comes with being the side chick and the blame is usually put on the female — as if the guy has a tattoo on his forehead that says “taken.” I’ve had absurd comments thrown my way anytime I share my story with someone and most of the hate comes from other females.  Girls have said time and time again “He’s an athlete! It comes with the territory.” — as if that validates him being a player. As though I decided to be the side chick, like it was a choice. Catching shade from other girls is not even the worst of it. The scariest part is that you could think you’re their everything and in reality be the last thing on their mind. I wasted two years of my life.  The beginning stages were optimistic yet deceitful.  The text messages were consistent during winter break, major holidays and summer break. 
 

The first red flag should have been the fact that we had never gone on a date, hung out in the daytime or even in public for that matter. As we grew older and went off to different universities, I would commute back in forth almost every other weekend. Those weekends were the perfect illustration of college romance, where I’d do my own thing during the daytime and we’d “Netflix-and-Chill” together at night.  I can admit I’d gotten so caught up in the idea of him that I failed to accept who he really was. The saddest part is that at one point he even told me “I am not a good guy” and “Don’t wait for me.” Progressively I started receiving text messages and calls a lot less frequently. If I’m being completely honest, I would only receive messages during booty call hours.  

 

 

I realize now that he was not doing all of these things because he saw a potential future with me, but because I was willing to stick around simply based on “what ifs.”  I didn’t truly learn my lesson until one fatal weekend that I spent with him. Before venturing off to his school, I asked him a question I should have known he would not have given me the honest answer to. “Do you have a girlfriend?” Without hesitation he said “No.” Something still felt off putting about his response and still despite my instincts I took the trip. I got there and we hooked up a few times. Everything seemed good, or so I thought. I went through his text messages and found an unsaved number constantly addressing him as baby, babe and various other lovey dovey terms.

My heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach in shock for a few minutes. I didn’t cry or anything because part of me already knew I wasn’t his everything. Instead, as the official side chick, I felt it was my civic duty, and I would be doing all girlfriends around the world a disservice, if I did not tell his “girlfriend” that he cheated on her with me, and so I did. I did what I think most young collegiette side chicks would have done, I wrote her several messages on Facebook. I told her everything in grave detail minute-by-minute as if I were a Super Bowl anchor. 

I didn’t write this story to put him on blast. Being the side chick does not make you a bad person or unlovable. Not just any kind of guy deserves the chance to get to know you, and you are not alone.

Sincerely,

A Former Side Chick 

 

 

 

 

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Keziah is a writer for Her Campus. She is majoring in Fashion Design with a minor in Fashion Merchandising. HCXO!