Were We Ever Really Friends?

On Friendships and Situationships

January 25, 2024

For as long as I can remember, my mother told me that people around me for a reason or a season. I always ignored her proverbs, as one does when they are young. Eventually, I would have to face the truth.

I didn’t grow up in a “normal” family. My dad abandoned us after I was born, and a lot of the men I knew lacked communication skills and sensitivity. I can recount many instances when a younger me sat behind a closed door, listening to all the shouting, name-calling, and blaming that would shape my perception of what a relationship should be. This, coupled with my fear of abandonment, formed my anxious attachment style.

In friendships, this fear put a strain on every interaction. It translated into me self-isolating, assuming I wouldn’t be accepted. Every time people made plans without me, I took it personally, and my sadness made people dislike me even more. It was truly a vicious cycle: I wanted to be included, complained about being excluded, and was then avoided because of it.

Being the only Black girl in a friend group didn’t help either. I never felt pretty or cool enough, and for the longest time, I was too poor to shop at Lululemon or Urban Outfitters like the other girls. When you feel different because of your appearance, background, or personality, it’s easy to get attached to people and things that make you feel less lonely. It took me many years to feel comfortable being independent—and even now, it’s still a work in progress.

Situationships

In this day and age, situationships are very common. I’m sure we all know someone who’s gushed over a person they weren’t officially dating, but assumed it was serious because of the person’s actions. From the outside, it seems foolish. It's only when you’re desperate for attention and validation, that you start to crave the volatility and understand why they can't leave. Low self-esteem made me accept what I thought I deserved.

I had a situationship one summer that ended in me being gaslit, insulted, and disrespected beyond belief. I latched on to this person because I was in a vulnerable place. I leaned on him and trusted him with my secrets.

Before I understood his intentions, he was already taking advantage. I even thought I loved him because I believed, “This is finally my chance at happiness! Someone actually likes me!”

El Boriqueno

I had always questioned my worth when it came to my race. I wasn’t one of those Black girls with long, looser-textured hair and a curvy body that guys liked. I was skinny with big boobs. Top heavy with bad posture. My aunt even said I looked like macaroni. This did not make me happy.

During the pandemic, I decided to work out so I could become slim thick, in hopes it would make me more attractive. Problem is...I started attracting the wrong type of attention.

He and I never actually did anything physical. We were friends with a secret desire. But shortly after we started talking, I realized we wanted different things. Still, he pressured me for sex, and when I said no, he told me he was only attracted to Hispanic women because they were superior (it was clear he wasn’t talking about Afro-Latinas either, not that I am one of them. I am not.).

I told the people I trusted most. To my “friends,” I was overreacting. The insecurity and self-loathing that washed over me were dismissed as unwarranted. My feelings and experience were invalidated, and all of a sudden, we weren’t friends anymore.

Girls I had been best friends with since third grade cut me off and started hanging out with the guy who hurt me—a guy they had previously disliked. I found it ironic how quickly they were willing to betray me for someone they constantly spoke ill of.

I had no choice but to isolate myself again—not because I felt unworthy, but because I realized they were.

I was alone.

Until him.

He was there for me when no one else was. We FaceTimed, texted, and watched shows together every day. We even hung out a few times, and his actions and words suggested that he wanted more. Sure, we initially said we were just having fun, but when there’s no clear line drawn between the emotional and the physical, feelings get hurt. If only I had followed my intuition... I always knew he was going to hurt me, but I stayed because I didn’t want to be alone.

When he left, it was because he never got what he wanted and was secretly embarrassed about people finding out. He even claimed not to be attracted to me—despite the visual indications that he was. I felt more abandoned than ever. When the school year started, I had to watch him do all the things he claimed he couldn't do with me—with someone else.

At first, it felt like a stab in the back. I thought I loved him. I thought that giving that energy to someone else would make me feel less empty, but it didn't. Now I don’t even care. Upon examining our situationship, I realized none of it was real. He lied to me and led me astray from my God-given path. I see him walking the halls with his partner now, and I feel no resentment. I’m glad that someone who didn’t care about me left my life and found someone on his level. Me? My sights are set on bigger things than high school relationships.

I say all this to say that everyone plays a role in the person you become. Had it not been for those friendship breakups and the end of that situationship, I wouldn’t have found solace in being alone, and wouldn’t have achieved what I have thus far. If someone doesn’t reciprocate your time and energy, then leave—sooner rather than later. And don’t look back.

I always think of my mom in times like these. She would say something like: “Mi never grow up ina poverty fi you a cry ‘bout some buoy,” and she’d kiss her teeth in that stereotypical Jamaican way.

I fear she is an icon.

11/3/23 Update: Night of the Senior Banquet

It was a Friday night, and I was all dolled up for my senior banquet. I arrived almost two hours late because I figured the party wouldn’t start until later—and I was right. When I walked in, I was greeted by a table of beautiful Black women who hyped me up and told me how gorgeous I looked in my dress. That was where I belonged. I completely ignored everyone else—because my people were the only ones who made me feel appreciated.

I sat down for two bites of stale bread and unseasoned mac and cheese, and after 30 minutes, I made my way to the dance floor. All the typical school dance stuff happened—people started out shy until later in the night when they started twerking on each other. I’m not going to lie—I got down too. It was fun... until I saw him.

Yes, him. The guy who led me on for a month only to leave because he was embarrassed of me. He was dancing with another girl—one I thought was my friend.

To be fair, she didn’t know our history. But even after I told her, she continued dancing with him and took about ten pictures with him at the photo booth. My mind bounced between jealousy and numbness. He wasn’t embarrassed of her—but he was of me.

The funny thing is... I wasn't jealous of her. I was jealous of him because he was able to hurt me and move on like nothing happened.

I tried to clear my head, sipping on some soda that tasted like it was spiked. I kept dancing.

Then he did it.

While I was dancing in the circle, he walked up to my friend—not realizing I was there. He turned and we made direct eye contact. He smiled awkwardly and laughed one of those awkward laughs. I stared at him, emotionless. I pulled her aside and told her the truth.

At first, she seemed like she cared. But by the end of the night, she danced with him more than ever. My last interaction with him was purposely bumping into him as I left, hoping he’d feel even the tiniest bit of pain.

When I got home, you won’t believe what I saw. She had texted me, saying she was sorry he hurt me and hoped I still had fun. But then on Instagram, I got a message from her. Not words—just a photo of him doing the half-heart finger thing and smiling.

I was enraged. So angry that I considered revenge. I mean—how dare he? From another girl’s phone?

It’s giving jail.

Some Time Around January 2024

He soon started spreading rumors about me—convincing his new girlfriend that I was trying to steal him. I tried to clear my name. I had a friend deliver him a letter where I expressed how hurt I was and hoped he would treat her better (even though I had no respect left for her).

Later that day, he smiled at me—menacingly.

In the following days, his girlfriend and I had to present our New Year’s Resolutions for class. She said she no longer felt guilty for hurting people and rolled her eyes at me when I said I wanted to be around people who value me. God forbid a girl wants to be treated well.

I initially felt bad because what happened between me and her boyfriend happened before they dated. But her actions afterward exemplified the lowest forms of pettiness. She would kiss him in front of the classroom door, knowing it affected me, and even tried to get her friends to jump me—when I wasn’t even trying to get back with him.

After the situationship ended, I realized I was only drawn to the attention because my ego was bruised from my past. I hadn’t even been attracted to him before.

In the end, my mother was right. The people who wronged me were there for a reason. In fact, they helped me find my reason. So, for that, I’m grateful. Spending more time by myself has allowed me to be more creative, pursue my dreams, build healthier connections, and find a purpose beyond a boy, because that's all he was.

And where is he now?

Who knows?

Who cares (Notice how I didn't ask the 2nd time).

XOXO, J