And you don’t know me

I don’t know you. I don’t know what made him choose you over me. I don’t know what history you have with him. I don’t know if he’ll ever man up and talk to me about it. But I do know how deeply I value him and his friendship. We spent a lot of time and energy teetering between that and more, and I honestly thought we’d just tipped the balance. I was mistaken. You tipped the balance.

Whatever you did or said or were that paved this path, I hope it was honest. I hope you’re good to him. It’s one thing to say I let him go because you were his better match. It’s something else entirely to think that you may have manipulated him into being with you. I can’t bear to watch that unfold.

Still, I wonder if you know about me. He used to mention you in passing, but always as a friend or an old classmate. He never confessed to more. Perhaps you’ve heard stories of me then, as a friend or even a coworker. From the way he’d spin it, you’d have no idea we were ever anything else. Or maybe he did finally explain everything to you when he made his choice. I wonder how the truth hit you. How’s it feel to know that he spent Valentine’s night with me instead of you? Or that he houses a constant yearning for physical contact between us? What about knowing that just a week before he took you camping, he tried to follow my drunk ass up the stairs to bed? Tell me, how’s that feel?

The truth stings. Trust me, I know. But I’m not here to torment you. I’m not going to call you out and say you tore your own family apart. I’m not going to call you a whore. I won’t do any of that because I don’t know you.

I don’t know you and you don’t know me, and all we have in common so far is a man who cares for both of us and who both of us want. Lucky for you, I drew the short straw again. He’s yours as long as he’s happy. Just try to understand that it’s not easy for me to trust a stranger to take care of someone so damn important.

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