You’ve been dating him for a while. Long enough that you’re really invested. He knows all of you. You know each other so well and so intimately.
Maybe you’ve lived together or shared holidays; maybe you’ve traveled together, or you’ve got a routine down. You know what he’ll order off a menu, and he knows what you like to drink. He gets you, and you get him.
But now, your relationship is coming to an end, and you have to have the dreaded breakup conversation (insert eye roll here). He tells you why he doesn’t want to be with you anymore, and you agree on some level.
You knew it wasn’t totally working, but this sucks. At the end of it all, you know you’re breaking up, but he insists he “still wants to be friends.”
Friends, huh? FRIENDS? Like one of those friends you play videos games with and draft your fantasy football team with? Or the friends you usually forget to call back? The kind of friends you only see at weddings or the ones you hang with on the reg?
We’re “friends” who just spent the last few months -- or years -- dating and really getting to know each other. Getting to know each other’s families, psychoses and idiosyncrasies. We were more than just friends -- we were lovers.
Friends and lovers are separate and not equal. My friends haven’t seen me truly vulnerable and totally naked. Friends haven’t tasted me in the morning. Friends don’t know what positions I like or how I oddly hate morning sex.
Friends don’t know how insane I can be after one too many gin and tonics (well, maybe that’s not true). Friends haven’t let me in the way you did. My friends and I didn’t share this thing we had.
You still want me in your life but in a drastically different way. For whatever reason, this thing we had is over. And, frankly, I don’t want to just be friends.
I still want you to be my first call.
I liked having you on the other end of any call I made when something happened to me. You were there for the good, the bad and hopefully not too much of the ugly.
I want to text you when I see something that reminds me of you. I want you to know what happens to me throughout the day. Most importantly, I don’t want those inside jokes and private moments we shared to fade.
Not that friends can’t call each other, but you won’t answer me like you used to. And I don’t want to have to think twice when I want to dial your number or send you a message. I don’t want to play that game.
I still want to have sex with you.
What we had was good. We had a good rhythm going. We knew what each other liked and didn’t like, which positions worked and which ones we could’ve worked on.
Ugh, I dread having to go through that period of learning someone sexually again.
Plus, I’m still attracted to you, and I can’t just turn that off. And now I can’t do anything about it because “we’re just friends.” I’ll have to pretend I’m not thinking about you when I'm with someone else.
I can’t stand the thought of you with someone else.
Sure, I want you to be happy. You can be happy, but not with someone else. Not just yet.
The thought of you having sex with someone else makes me nauseous. I don’t want you doing the tricks you learned with me on someone else. Even the thought of you just kissing someone else or sleeping next to another woman makes me cringe.
Is she going to be the new person you call when you see something funny? Is she going to get those texts I used to get?
Does she get to borrow your T-shirts and sweatpants? Does she get to spend time with your family that loved me so much? I don’t want to be replaced.
I don’t want you to see me with someone else.
It’s irrational, but you’re supposed to be stuck on me. I’m going to move on, but I still want you to think about me. I want to know I was a chapter in your book, and you won’t forget what we shared.
But, I need to do me, too, and I don’t want you to see that. And I certainly don’t want you to be OK with it. Not just yet.
I don’t want to pretend I’m interested in your love life.
Because I’m not interested. As far as I’m concerned, your sexual existence began and ended with me.
Friends have to talk about sex and share those sometimes embarrassing moments with each other. They give each other graphic details about the night before.
I don’t want to do that with you, and it’s an unavoidable topic. If we can’t talk about these things, then we’re just not friends.
I have enough friends.
Hence, why we weren’t just friends in the first place. I had a void in my life that you filled. I wasn’t looking for more friends, and you weren’t one when it comes down to it. You were my BOYfriend.
I have plenty of people to go to brunch with. I have tons of people to talk to throughout the day. I have endless people to go out drinking with. And so do you!
I don’t need another person at the dinner table. This table is full.
I have to adjust my future so you’re not a part of it.
I’ve been thinking about how life looks with you in it for a while. Now, I have to picture it differently, and how am I supposed to do that while you’re still around?
I have to rewrite the story so you’re not in it. That chapter is closed. And I can’t do it while you’re around.
If it were up to me, we’d either still be together, or we’d be done completely.
So, no, I don’t want to still be friends. We can be exes.