I won’t tell if you don’t.

by Cait

I am not a relationship person.

Ha.

That’s putting it lightly. If it isn’t a downright lie altogether.

What I mean to say is, I’ve never been in a romantic relationship. Period.

Now, I’ve had close relationships with boys that have meant a lot to me. But those are split into two distinct types.

  1. Platonic (yes, really) friendships
  2. Relationships which focus on tiptoeing around the fact that we aren’t actually in a relationship

The first is great (for the most part), because even if you’ve been friend-zoned you can take comfort in knowing the other person cares enough about you to put you into a distinct category of human relationship. They care enough to keep you in their life in a capacity that allows you to be emotionally available for each other without it bordering on weird territory.

The second is awful. Because once you’ve crossed into this place, there is absolutely no going back.

It’s the kind of relationship that involves caring about another person, but not being able to show them how you feel. It’s the kind of relationship that balks at honesty and welcomes snarky comments with open arms. The kind that always leaves someone hurt and confused, while the other hollowly spends time with another person. The kind that makes your family ask you about the special person in your life, but you’re unable to say anything of consequence because you don’t really have anyone of consequence. Right?

However, humans draw lines so they can cross them and make rules so they can break them, and this type of relationship is no different. There is always going to come a time when someone is too candid, too honest. Eventually the honesty bites them in the ass, and they’re forced to take back their admission in order to save face around someone who still means a great deal to them, but they’re unable to convey their feelings because the other person refuses to accept them. The person who admitted to feeling something is basically forced to claim they were “just kidding” or “a little drunk” when they said what they said.

And that’s the worst part of all. Telling the person you care about, the person you love, that your feelings were a joke; a happy hour confession easily spilled, but not so easily cleaned up. You’re forced to come to terms with the fact that you and you alone are what got you here. Whether they followed your lead, or you followed theirs, is no matter. What matters is the fact that you let it go on…and on…and on. You have stopped trying to make it work with other people because you’re convinced you know who you’re meant to be with. You’re convinced that in this game of chicken, the other person will blink first.

The only problem? It’s too late.

And maybe the other person already blinked, but you were too busy throwing their feelings in their face to realize your moment had come and gone.

And when it’s officially over, and both of you have “moved on” to other things and new places, you’ll always wonder. You’ll always have a niggling feeling in your mind that you really screwed up something beautiful. You thought it wasn’t real, but it was. You thought you could walk away, but you can’t.

The worst part? The worst part is knowing…you can’t fix it.

Until next time or not, I’m still Cait.

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