A good love story.

I have always had a fascination with love. It was really unhealthy and fed my brain unrealistic expectations but man do I love a good love story. It was so bad at one point that I would marry (in my head of course) literally every man I met that was not directly related to me. Not small weddings either, elaborate thought out sweepingly romantic ceremonies and tear inducing imaginary vows. My imagination was one to rival Pixar. Then I met Steven.

I did not like Steven initially. I met him through my best friend so I was naturally territorial but also he was very reminiscent of a tumultuous on again off again relationship I was enduring at that time. I believed my heart naturally rejected the thought, “Not again” it said. And so, Steven became the first man I did not romanticize, the first man I did not marry in my head, the first man I did not create an imaginary life with. Yet, Steven stayed around and became closer and closer to my friend. I didn’t love that but Steven paid me and my opinion on their friendship no mind. It’s not that Steven particularly disliked me, he just had standards for how he expected to be treated (I tend to be authoritative and Steven is not one to be pushed around) and because neither of us wanted each other, he never felt the need to be nice to me. He was curt and he was crass. I generally have an easy time getting people to listen to me and a boy who didn’t just do what I said did not sit right with me. The low level animosity was mutual.

My relationship officially ended ( I thought at the time, it honestly wasn’t really over for another 2 years) and eventually Steven and I started a casual arrangement. Steven was a playboy who once called women “wet holes” to my face, he was so clearly not my prince charming. However he was fun and the sex was enjoyable but also unimaginably detached. I felt nothing, he felt nothing, it was a perfect set up for that time in my life. I was going through the motions and attempting to mend a newly broken heart. I needed simple and sex with Steven was simple.

When we talk about it now, he claims that one day I just started opening up to him; feeling so romantically detached from him, I lowered all my guards. He was quite literally completely unfiltered with me, every “hangout” he would for at least 10 minutes discuss his favorite post coital topic “who i’ve put my dick in this week.” It was equally disgusting and hilarious. I asked him for his opinion after and he gave brutally honest feedback. I did too. He coached me on my blowjob game before spending the night with guys I actually liked. I taught him what an actual gentle touch was. We truly gave no fucks. He was a firm never in my head so it was simple to talk honestly with him, no faking to impress. It was unexplainable, it was just so effortless.

We were in our early 20’s and careless so eventually, I got pregnant. And thus, a mess ensued. I made mistakes handling it (I spoke to our mutual friend about it before him, and then had them tell him. Not the most adult way to handle that situation specifically because it was not known publicly we were sleeping together.) he made mistakes reacting to it (he denied it completely to said mutual friend) and when I ultimately miscarried, it was obvious that our thing was fully fractured. He was mad at me, I was hurt by him. We each mattered to each other more than either of us were admitting. He was my friend, and I felt abandoned by him. I was his friend, and I didnt give him the chance to be there for me and handle the situation together without others. So the dissolution of us made sense and we went our separate ways.

I was sad but I’m also stubborn. He was cut off and I was not going to be weak and tell him I was sorry. However, a year went by, and I kept feeling pulled to go back. A spirit inside of me telling me that I needed to get back my friend, that this is a person who was supposed to be in my life. It felt so ridiculous but it wouldn’t stop nagging at me to fix it. So I finally swallowed my pride and reached out.

We agreed to meet and a few days later I was in the parking lot of NCC, anxiously awaiting a conversation I didn’t think I would ever have. We talked in my car for hours. There was so much anger and confusion in the air. Mostly, although it should have been obvious, there was a surprisingly intense amount of pain. But even with all that, there was no yelling, no volatile arguing, no storming out of the car. We were adults now and we were having this conversation and sitting in every beat of anguish that came along with it.

“What was the point in telling him? Why did our problem need an audience?”

Oof, a gut punch.

“I was scared and needed to feel supported.”

“And that support couldn’t have come from me?”

“I didn’t trust you to support me. You didn’t prove me wrong.”

Well damn.

“What was the point in denying it? Was there an actual reason beyond being a little bitch? Or to make me look crazy?”

This conversation was going great. Our words were cutting with no reconciliation in sight. It eventually became silent, no more punches to throw. Steven broke the silence after a few minutes.

“….Wanna see who i’ve put my dick in this week?”

Only a sociopath would say that in that car after that exchange. Only a psychopath would laugh at it. A much needed reset.

Once all that tension was released we were able to give apologies that we desperately needed from one another. We were fucking for over a year but we had never seen more of each other. Being secret friends was a business model that could never be sustainable, and it definitely was not one that could handle a problem of that magnitude. We needed to be real friends. I made him do a question game that he hated but humored me and answered all of them. “20 Questions to build and grow interpersonal relationships” 20 simple questions turned us from borderline sworn enemies to people who could sit together platonically for hours without fucking or fighting. It was cathartic. It was vindicating. After a year of casual sex, it was the best time I had ever had with him. Who says Cosmo is useless?

That talk was a little over a year after the misscarriage. It felt so much longer than that. The person I was in that car with was not the guy I was casually messing around with prior. He was up-front and genuine and eventually vulnerable. I couldn’t imagine him ever telling me sorry before and when he said it then it felt like I was in the twilight zone. He didn’t say it explicitly but he missed me too (to this day he will deny this fact but I know the truth, no one completes the 20 questions I made him do if you don’t care about the person. No one.) We left that night ready to start over as actual friends this time, although it still took us years before we openly acknowledged the friendship (he too is very stubborn.)

Steven is now literally one of the closest people to me on this planet. He is so different from the young man I met 10 years ago. I speak to him weekly. He’s so in love it’s funny to think he was ever the legendary baboon’s ass he used to be. I like to think that his growth has mirrored my own and it makes me happy to see how far we’ve come. He can’t wait to have kids. His girlfriend is my best friend and I often show up at their place without him even knowing I’m coming over. I’m going to be her maid of honor at their wedding next year and she almost definitely one day will be mine.

This relationship is so complicated and so fulfilling. Steven is my soul tie.We have a spiritual connection deeply embedded in one another. That’s why he came into my life the way he did. That’s why we never had any interest in a relationship with each other and that’s why I had the internal turmoil when he left. He is very distinct with his role in my life as someone I love and never romanticized. I really learned to stop romanticising everyone after I met him. I learned healthier emotional boundaries and my heart eventually mended. I learned to value the platonic love in my life and it calmed down my obsession and desire for constant romantic love. Meeting him was the shift in my brain. Meeting him was the lesson of how to treat people. Our connection is a wonderful mess and irreplaceable to me. It’s the love story I needed.

…But don’t tell him that, if he knew he mattered this much to me I’d never hear the end of it.