I hate growing up.

Look. I'm human. I make mistakes. A lot. I try to do what I think is right in the moment and sometimes I'm wrong. Not often, mind you, but it does happen; statistically, it's bound to at one point or another. Regardless, I'm still knocked off my ass when it does happen... however rarely. And I hate it. Who among us likes to be wrong? Who among us likes to be so wrong that it nearly tears you apart from the inside? I may come off a little dramatic but it's just how it's going to be for the next few paragraphs.

I was dumb. I knew I shouldn't have let it go that far that fast, but sometimes, you just end up going with the flow. Even if the flow turns into dangerous, terrifying rapids that ends up with you and your crew crushed against some sharp rocks and thrown from a rickety boat (a 'ship' if you will ;)) and it's just ends up being a lot of screaming and crying and trying to not drown. To be honest, there was no screaming. There WAS crying though, a lot of it. Mainly by me. Mostly by me. By me. I can't believe I LET it get this far. It is 100% my fault and I own it. That doesn't make it any less painful.

What ended up happening is the very thing I told myself not to do again. After my divorce, I met someone. An amazing man with the most genuine heart and personality I had ever met. He was younger, much younger than expected, and I'm not going to sit here and tell you "He was mature for his age" because no one believes that crap. He was, but that's not the point. He made me feel like how I always imagined it would feel to be with your person. He treated me the way I always wanted to be treated.

I remember finding it odd (not in a bad way) that he did things for me that I had forgotten I wanted in a man because I thought that meant my standards were too high. When I was with him, they were second nature to him, and he did them on his own, almost as an instinct. I remember thinking, "This man was raised right.". Things I now miss, like a gentleman, he opened my door, walked on the side of me closest to the street, pumped my gas, that kind of stuff that people might find frivolous. I found it charming and the mark of a good man. And I'd be right.

This would turn out to be the best relationship I've ever had; friendship or otherwise. We had fun and laughed, had deep talks about our passions and likes and dislikes, debated various topics, and were just very respectful, yet stimulating. There were so many similarities, it was crazy, but we were different enough that it wasn't boring. He'd listen to me drone on about airplanes and military life, and I was genuinely excited to hear him talk about Napoleon or politics. He was very passionate about both.... still is, I imagine.

Nothing lasts forever, even though I was optimistic this would, but this is where the title of this story comes in. Around the time he was getting into finding a new job, one that would align with his passions (he was employed, but hated it, and I 100% supported his decision, even though it wasn't mine to make), I was starting my program in aerospace. We had long talks before about the future and the direction of his career and the places I wanted to end up after training. We were on the same page, or so I thought.

If anxiety was personified, it would be him. Everything makes him nervous or anxious, or stressed, and that never bothered me, and I was always happy to help where I could. However, one day on my way home from class at eleven at night, I was anxious as well; the next day was my first exam of my first class and I was already having a stressful day of work, and I was just a hot mess. Anyway, I called to talk to him on my way home and we got on to the topic of politics, his forte. It also happens to be one of the areas that we differ. Not a lot, but enough. Usually we just poke each other, laugh, and move on. Neither of us were having it that night.

It was stupid. Why did I care that much? Fact is: I didn't. I didn't care about being right. I didn't care about the topic at all! I was just so stressed and anxious that I snapped. I snapped and argued for what? To say he was wrong? To get to be right? Neither of those things were going to happen because it was a matter of opinion in the first place! Ugh. You know those moments that you know change the trajectory of your life? Or, you feel they do? Well, this was one of those moments.

I couldn't have chased him away faster than if I had used a stick. It all fell apart after that. It all came to a head, because of course. I couldn't just keep my mouth shut and let it go.

The next month was torture. I was floating between feeling hollow and numb, and the feeling of my heart being painfully ripped out of my chest and an inconsolable sorrow. He had become my best friend and I lost it all in the span of 5 mins. We would talk occasionally, never when he was around people, and hardly ever when he was outside of work. It came back though, the friendship, kind of. My feelings never left, but I missed my friend.

One weekend in the middle of April, we didn't leave each other's side. We watched videos and movies. He taught me how to play cards, and we went on a history hike. It was great. Until he got a text. No, it wasn't another woman. I had no right to care if it was. He was free, as was I. Would it hurt? Like a bitch, but I can't say I would blame him. However, it wasn't another woman, per say. It was, but it ended up being his mother.

When he saw the text, he laughed and said, "It's just my mom, she wants to know if I'm still alive". His inability to let his parents know if he was dead or not was always a little joke. Before we went anywhere for more than a day, I'd ask him if he let his mom know, just because it's a curtesy. So, naturally, I sighed and said, "You didn't tell her you were going to be out all night did you?" then it hit me.... "You didn't tell her you're with me." It wasn't a question. It wasn't a question because we both knew the answer. It was a statement It was also a heartbreaking realization.

I got distant after that. Not cold or hard, just... kept space. When he said he was going to go home for a bit to spend time with her, I steeled myself. "Ok.". He showered and packed all his things away nice and neat, so he wouldn't forget them (cards, wallet, keys). When he got out, he told me I didn't have to do that, that he'd be back; but do to recent events, I knew better. Look. He is an incredible and sweet man, but sometimes his age and emotional immaturity shows, but I try not to hold that against him. However, old scars run deep, and these weren't that old. Hell, they weren't even scars yet.

I told him everything, and how I felt that Sunday morning we parted after grabbing breakfast. I had an amazing time, and evidently, so did he. He even said we had a good "Saturday date" and I really do miss holding his hand. But I also told him, I can't be his dirty little secret anymore. I can't let myself be treated and disrespected like that. I can't be his cheerleader and shoulder to lean on, He can't have me in that way without the commitment. He can't have his cake and eat it too. Naturally, he "understood". As do I.

I am his friend, and I still 100% support him in everything he does. He's great at it and I only wish he'd see it. But, I know how I'm going to feel when I get a text telling me he's met someone. I'm not doing a good job at minimizing the damage, but as I told him, I'd rather be his friend than nothing. I'd like to think that maybe one day, I'll be who he wants again, like I was not so long ago, but... it's time for me to grow up. Stop living a fantasy and accept that he's happy and content. Moreso now than I made him. I'm ok with that. For the record, none of this is on him. These are MY thoughts and feelings. We've discussed other things, but this specifically is just me trying to make sense of it all.

I wish things could be different but wishing is for children. I love him, but I have books on how to help me heal and a counselor to get my feelings out without hurting anyone in the process. Friends I can do. Friends with benefits and secrets, I cannot. I am not that strong or that kind of person. I'm here when he needs me, like I am with all my friends, but I just need to grow up and realize that that's all I'm ever going to be, and how I hate it.