We're used to it. The pitying looks, the snark and doubt, the raise of the eyebrow, the awkward silence as they wait for you to elaborate. There has to be an explanation right? Who left who. How did you let this fall apart. Are you still sleeping with each other (no.) Are you sure you're not sleeping with each other (yes.)
It's tough to tell people that your ex boyfriend is your best friend.
I've known him for nearly six years and we've dated 3 out of the 6. Sure, to throw in a curve ball for you curious minds, we lived together for nearly two years after we broken up. Yes, we're that good of friends.
To be honest, our dating relationship was a blur. We were good enough friends. Shared the same wry jokes, had the same practical outlook on life, pretty equal in the big three (looks, ambition, humor.) We were textbook worthy.
I keep telling myself we dated for 3 years when it could have been 5, it could have been 2. A blur I tell you. Either way, it didn't matter then and it doesn't matter now. Our relationship really truly started once we broke up, lost ourselves and then found the friend in each other that was never present in the times we thought we were in love.
He redefined family for me. The person I am most eager to share with whether it's the latest music discovery, fucked up Gawker article or rant about fedoras. He serves as the soundboard for my poor dating decisions. Oh, there's judgement. He knew I should have never dated the man with the cat. And rightfully told me so. Not because there was jealousy but any sane friend should warn you about men with cats.
He was there to remind me how stupid I was going back to boys who made me cry. He was there to tell me it's ok when I'm floundering. Tell me to relax when I'm being neurotic (often). He lets me admit that I really don't know what I'm doing. That I have second doubts now - about everything. He stops me when I become self destructive and hellbent on burning cities and bridges along the way. He listens to my most selfish, hurtful thoughts about my friends, my family. Things that shouldn't even been thought much less said out loud.
He loves me at my darkest.
How can we not still be friends.
It's funny how little you know about each other in a relationship. How much you truly suppress to maintain peace, to trick yourself into thinking 'this is how relationships work', how much you compromise. How much of yourself you lose. How much you both end up losing. I don't want him to lose anything.
I nag him repeatedly, I call him out, I push. Oh, I'm a pusher. I constantly push to remind him to live to his potential as he does with me. There's no room for modesty, tact or false hope. It's honesty. The kind that hurts. The kind that makes you feel ashamed as you're crying in the car admitting that you went back to that boy. The kind that makes you avoid each other for days because damn, those words hurt.
But it's those words that now mean something more. Something more significant. You are not telling your boyfriend to lose weight or keep his job because of you now. You are not a part of this equation. You don't have any selfish desires to somehow taint your motivations. You are doing this purely out of your love for this one person. You are building this person to find love, find the job of his dreams, leading him to find meaning.
You ask me again how we can be friends. How rare that is. How you can still be true friends and even more tactless, you ask me how I can want such great things for him even when we're not together.
Maybe that's the problem, we're all doing relationships wrong.
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