I told her I was cold. Like anybody would do in this weather. The nights are especially cold, I added. I didn't expect any sort of elaborate answer. It was just a comment. Something you say in a conversation to fill the silence. She giggled before she replied. "I haven't really felt it," she said. And it could have stopped there, at her acknowledgment of the cold and her different experience around it. And yet it didn't. "I sleep cuddling," she went on. "He hugs me all through the night, so I haven't really realized it's cold."
A small silence followed her as I tried to find an appropriate response to her words. I'm happy for you, I managed to say. I changed the subject as soon as I could. I know she didn't mean to, but her words stung like a hive. They were a reminder of just how alone I am. She doesn't feel the cold, but I do. At night, as I turn myself into the smallest ball I physically can in a giant bed I can't really fill, I have no arms wrapped around me. I have no goodnight text warming me up from inside. I have nothing. I have myself, sleeping in a bed I bought for two.
A couple of days later, she calls me in distress. A friend of his told her he's going to ask her to be his girlfriend the following day. She was upset because he had been planning to surprise her with the question, and now she knew when he was going to do it. She was crying. How do you comfort someone who's about to get what you want most? I tried my best. Told her it would still be special. Told her to get a shower and cry it out.
What I would give to be chosen. To be loved by somebody else. And here she is with tears on her face just because she now knows her day is tomorrow. Can't you see just how lonely I am? I'm not the right person for you to complain about this. And yet you do, and I say nothing because doing it would be the deepest admission of how miserable and alone I am.
The next day, he pops the question and, of course, she says yes. It was wonderful, she says and I congratulate her. Because she's my best friend and I love her and I want her to be happy. Still, it stings a bit. Envy. Jealousy. Things I wished I didn't feel but that no matter what I do, I can't seem to shake off.
It's been four years since the last time I had sex. I've never been asked out on a date in my entire adult life. I've been used and discarded. I've been misled and betrayed. I'm tired. I don't think I'd be able to withstand another heartbreak. Another ilussion crashed under the weight of reality. It ain't about me and it never will. The sooner I make peace with my loneliness, the better. Love was not built for people like me. Nobody will ever chose me. I'm too broken. Too weird. Too much and yet still not enough.
Please, somebody, anybody... Just prove me wrong.
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