Wickham

7/30/2011 The Blue Stocking 2 Comments

It all started when I fell for my best friend…..dumb I know.

We had mutual friends and they thought we would be perfect for each other…and we were. We loved the same music, we both loved to read, we both were very opinionated and for a while it worked.

We spent months getting to know every facet of each others personalities. We would get so wrapped up in conversations that we literally talked the night away. Now the days, nights, conversations blur into a haze of delightful memories.

His friends started bringing up the M word and how he wanted us to take the leap. This scared me (That's an understatement, I was utterly terrified, commitment phob? o ya).

Finally, there was the trip home. Sadly enough my family did not like him and this fact sent me reeling. I have to admit that even I knew deep down that something wasn’t right about our relationship. He wasn’t the one.

(Definition of The One: the elusive tall dark and handsome white knight sent to complete us, armed with a first edition of our favorite book and a box of chocolates)

Right after, I went away for the summer. We grew distant, not broken, just distant. Then my best girl friend called me late one night because to tell me what he refused to...he had a girl, or I should say another girl.

I made him tell me, made him say it out loud. The worst part is he completely blamed me for everything.

He didn’t want another girlfriend, He only wanted me….

I was distant.

It was all my fault.

It took me weeks to stop blaming myself and realize he was in the wrong.

He told me he didn’t like her as much as me, that he was going to break up with her soon….and he did. Then he started trying to fix us. A part of me wanted to scatter the broken pieces of us all over so he could never find them.

It was at this point that I began to see him, really see him. See the arrogance I missed, see how much he put me down, and see how inconsiderate he was. He was never going to be the perfect guy I wanted. The sad part was it was too late, I already made him my best friend.

We started talking again. Hours of conversation where we pushed blame on each other. I was a wreck. Luckily, I have amazing parents and they made me realize that this boy, this best friend of mine, cared more about himself than he ever did about me.

He kept in contact, haunting me with his very presence. I began to see him all over campus. He was literally everywhere. I couldn’t escape. If it wasn’t so depressing it would have been hilarious. (if you read the ex-boyfriends should die post, this whole experience explains that)

He was my best friend, I knew him better than anyone in the world and he used these things to manipulate me into feeling sorry for him….for him.

I would love to say that it’s over now, that we stopped talking…but I can't.

He asked me to go to lunch with him. I said yes. Pathetic right. I hate it, but there is a piece of me that still blames me, that wants to believe that he will make it up to me. That he could still be the one. But it’s all a lie. He is my Wickham.

Dear Husband,

Where are you?

-Sincerely, your wife, The Blue Stocking.