He did things for me, day in and day out. He was my best friend, my partner in crime, and my lover. It was literally us against the world, until one day I woke up and I didn't love him anymore.
Almost 2 years of long distance, and he moved to a different continent after college to be with me. We set up his apartment, and I spent all my time there albeit still living at home with my family. #BrownGirlProblems
The honeymoon phase soon ended and work took over our lives, or rather mine. I spent all my time working or thinking about work. Before I knew it, I was dedicating my weekends to hanging out with colleagues or working on the latest pitch at the office. I saw less and less of him, and his desperation to regain the spark became more and more evident.
When he took me out on a date, I'd tell my colleagues I was there and they would show up there "for ladies night" as a "coincidence". At first, it was believable and even kind of funny, but soon the act grew old and frustrating. Everything he said in hope of provoking me to spend time with him made me defensive in-turn and eventually, he stopped trying and started spending time in his apartment with my brother and his PlayStation.
One fine evening, he fell severely ill with a high fever and we messaged back and forth about how home-sick he was. He lived 10 minutes away from my office by car, but I went out partying to the bar near work with colleagues as usual. My mind grew distracted by a co-worker who was very attractive and emotionally dependent on me, at the time. He begged me to take care of him and I pointed out that he was being selfish because I would get sick too, what with my terribly immune system. He sheepishly agreed and suffered through the next few days in sweat and sickness, and when he was well enough, he asked to meet for lunch. So I met him for lunch, with my colleagues, of course. Week by week passed, and we both grew accustomed to the new lifestyle I had adopted.
On a night out partying, I hung out with a group of new people and I met a boy who excited me. As he attempted to hold my hand, I vocalised that I had a boyfriend, in a very matter-of-fact fashion. The night went on and alcohol drowned our consciences and senses, and eventually, after ended up on a beach with bottles, he grabbed my face and kissed me. I let it linger for a while and I even kissed him back, The next 24 hours of my life were miserable and I'm sure I made my boyfriend's life miserable too.
The next night, I was drinking again and I called him to tell him that I cheated on him. Almost 3 years in, and thousands of miles flown - I ended it all on a phone call, when I was drunk. He begged me to meet him.
"Please just talk to me. We can fix this. I know we can. It's you & I, always and forever. Remember?", He whined with his trembling voice.
I refused to meet him and bumped into him, only days later. He wouldn't look me in the eye. He refused to talk to me or even acknowledge my existence.
That was nearly 2 years ago and I'm nowhere near as selfish nor have I met another human being as selfless.
This story has a happy ending though — he's moved away to England with his new girlfriend and they plan on starting a life together soon with a white picket fence and all that.
So that, ladies & gentlemen, is how I lost my best friend.
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