About two years ago, I started dating a really great guy. Some of you know him, he used to post here as SolGrundy. For both of us, it was our first serious relationship ever. Which is surprising, for two guys in their thirties. Denial will do that to you. We’d both been alone for a long time. I used to joke that I was so desperate, the only thing I was looking for in a partner was consent. Consequently, I was pretty amazed to find myself in love with such an amazing guy. We had a huge amount in common. We never fought. We got along great with each other’s friends. My parents adored him. You couldn’t ask for a more perfect match.
Tonight, we broke up.
We’ve both known the relationship was dead for at least a year, but neither of us had the balls to do anything about it. We were both too scared. Of hurting the other person. Of never seeing each other again. Of being alone. At some point, we just stopped talking, because the only thing either of us could think to say was, “This isn’t working anymore,” and neither of us was brave enough to say it first.
Something finally broke today. Because of a combination of business travel and family emergencies, he’s been gone for the last two months. He only got home a week ago, and things were worse than ever. Two months apart, and we spent the weekend sitting on his couch watching Lost re-runs on DVD. Finally, we finished a disc and turned off the TV, and we just sat there, staring at the blank television. And staring. And staring. We sat there for at least twenty minutes. Truthfully, I spent most of the time staring at him. I’d never seen him look so miserable. I thought maybe he was worried about his dad.
I asked him, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
We sat some more.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” A pause. “I don’t know if I can talk about it right now.”
“Do you need to be alone? I can go, if you want.”
“That might be a good idea.”
I gathered my stuff. “If you need to talk, call me.”
“Okay.”
We hugged. Before I let him go, I said, “Can I ask one more question?”
“Sure.”
“Are we okay?”
“I don’t know.” No.
And, at last, we started talking. God, I forgot how much I missed talking with him. I’d known for so long that the relationship wasn’t working out. I’m an honest person, most of the time. The only person I’ve ever been able to convincingly lie to has been myself. I could tell myself that everything was fine, that I was happy. I couldn’t tell him that. So I just stopped talking to him at all. And he’d been doing exactly the same thing, and we were both miserable. We had to change something. We still love each other. We still need each other. But we’ve got other needs. Ones we just can’t fulfill for each other. Our relationship isn’t over, it’s just not what we thought it was. He’s not my boyfriend, and he hasn’t been for a while.
He’s my best friend.
I haven’t had a best friend in a long time.
I love him. I haven’t been able to tell him that for a year, because in the context, it would have been a lie. I didn’t love him as a boyfriend. Tonight, I could tell him I still loved him, that I’d always love him. Because he’s my best friend, and right now, there’s still no one in the world more important to me.
I love you, Chuck.