It’s hard to not matter
- demichellewrites
- Mar 9
- 12 min read
Updated: Mar 11
Why, when, with my man of almost 3 years, do I find it hurtful for him to recite to me how all the other women in his world are doing? Shouldn’t I want to know? I do. Shouldn’t I care? Of course, I care.
Do they want to know? Do they care? I don’t know. I’ve never seen them. I’ve never heard their voices. Nor, do I know the men in his crew. I’ve never received a text.
When we first met, he told me all about the girl squad. Up front, wisely. They’ve all been friends for so long that it took a lot of walking and talking for my man to get me from nowhere to where these ladies are in their lives, now. I listened, and I asked questions. In fact, I often got confused and asked him to clarify that confusion.
I’ve seen Facebook photos of a couple of them. Others, not.
It’s the end of March today and summer is coming. Once a year, during summer, a friend from out of state comes to town and organizes a gathering of about 4 people from work. I don’t know her, nor the other woman invited. I do know my man and his buddy who lives just down the street.
His buddy stopped by on his motorcycle once, for a moment, and I haven’t seen him, since. This woman’s only around once a year and so, while, I mind being left out, I, honestly, see why it would seem weird to all of them, especially, if his buddy isn’t bringing his wife.This isn’t a get to know somebody new situation. It’s a we’ve been friends forever reunion.
I did mind, though, on his 55th birthday. I was sitting home, 2 miles away from the restaurant where his bff was prepairing to meet him, J Gilberts. It was a restaurant that my bff and I had frequented. In fact, we know the bartender. I spent that night, alone, at home, following him on Facebook.
I could feel the excitement in his text that not only was his best friend there, but his whole girl squad came. They felt this was an important birthday so they should celebrate with him. There were many photos of many people, and everyone was clearly having a blast.
At one point, I decided that I should get up and go do something. Anything. It’s a bit silly to just sit here and wallow. I took a long walk through the park at the end of the road. While I walked, I tried to rationalize what it was that I was feeling.
Having grown up in a N home, having feelings and then having the nerve to say so out loud was grounds for dismissal. I’d had feelings, but I didn’t speak of them. I was never taught how to identify what I was feeling nor how it could be processed. I have since gone no-contact with that whole circle.
We met in June, this was August, and these are his work friends. On the surface, it made perfect sense. Because of my mood, though, and, I learned later, a mix up in my meds, I wasn’t able to calm myself.
When I got his ‘going home’ text, I asked him about his evening, and he said it was awesome. He had such a great time and what a wonderful surprise for all his girls to be there. The next day he couldn’t wait to tell me everything that had happened. With everybody.
When our relationship was new, my man and I had made a firm agreement to always be honest and, so, I gave that a try. I spoke to him about my feelings. He listened, he identified it as jealousy for me, and he related. I wasn’t much relieved. I was still jealous.
That next evening, when I got to my man’s home, I noticed the Rx mix up, told him about it, repaired the error, understood why I might not be entitled to my own feelings, stuffed it down and apologized. It really should have been all good from there.
Over time, though, there have been many times when he would get together with the girls, and I’d wait at home. He would come back to tell me how awesome it was, what everyone said or did, laughing and smiling the whole time and each time I forced myself to swallow a bitter Fuck you.
Now, some of this might just be my own fault. I’ve had 2 friends in my life, my man, and Masha. I love them both.
Masha, for very good reasons, has moved to NY. She’s an hour and a half from us, me and my man. I drive out to her once a month or so to puppysit when she’s away, but I don’t end up seeing her at all.
Trey, her puppy, is awesome and we have had many years to get close to each other. I think he’s 5 now. Well, then, I guess that would make 3 friends in my life.
My man and I have been together for just about 3 years, and he was involved as much as possible with Masha. We make a pretty good trio.
In those 3 years, I have met his bff twice, another couple once, everyone else, never. Covid, perhaps, who knows.
My man also has a group of 3 men that he talks to and about all day, every day, with situations and circumstances from their younger years. They are funny stories. I’ve met the youngest man one time, the eldest brother one time, the middle child two times. I don’t really have much to say about any of them. All I can tell you is the ring tone of their text messages during a game.
The ladies, the girl squad, are Alice in Wonderland, ‘drink me’, size, 5 feet and under. The men are all ‘eat me’ size men, 6’ 2” and up. I bet it would be fun to get all those people together in one place for a photo. I’m not anticipating that, though.
I’ve pointed these things out to my man, and, over time, I’ve slowly and justifiably allowed myself to believe that they just weren’t interested in me, let alone getting to know me. I’ve listened to my man invite many of these people to join us out somewhere but, repeatedly, in the end, nothing came together. No one had time.
It was about more than the talking. I just wish the squad and the men would have made some time for me.
My relationship with those ladies was through relayed text messages from my man at the end of his workday, if he remembered. The men, even less. My man’s ok with it all because, for him, they will eventually show up. He will see them. He’ll swap stories with them. He has the inside secrets. He will have a blast.
He knows everything there is to know about these people and can interject into his response messages things that are funny. The inside jokes. The “remember when’s. In time he will see them and have a blast. Then he will tell me all about it. And I will swallow……
I had really started feeling lousy about this relationship. My man and I had one relationship. One on one. For several months I’d been feeling like it was time to give up. I was feeling like there was no room in my man's world for me. There was no room for anyone who hadn’t already been there. I had no relationships with any of them.
Earlier this month, I broke up with him. I told him it was about his incessant talking. In the end, I’m not completely sure that was accurate. I was discouraged and I knew that the relationship had nowhere to go. I’d told him often how I felt. He knew. He shrugged his shoulders, so, I believe he heard me.
I was tired of begging my way in, I couldn’t push my way in, and, at this point, if these are the lengths I must go through to make myself feel heard, I no longer want anything to do with any of them.
Should this let on that this situation could have been better, I would know that the pity party would be all about my tantrum and not about the damage that had been done to me.
Because I threw a tantrum.
I already feel defeated. Theres no coming back from there. It’s too late for better.
I found myself feeling lonely and my BFF suggested that I go onto Facebook dating. Her friends had been talking about it recently. She’s 23 years my junior. She felt, not so much to start dating, but to have conversations with other people. Maybe, I would feel less lonely.
I pulled it up and BOOM, there’s my man’s face. First picture. OUCH.
I sent my man the pic of himself and said, “Really, that didn’t take long.”
His response: Started getting emails from Match again, a few months ago. Just decided “what the heck”and a couple hours later I was on the meat market.
I needed to be nice and I told him, ‘Good luck. Youdeserve to be happy’. Then I swallowed another…..
Clearly, I did not log on to Facebook Dating.
Today, I pulled up my own Facebook page and BOOM, top of the page, there is a picture of my man, with three wonderland, drink size friends. Triple OUCH. My man had mountain face. White Mountain face.
I can see that his friends make him very happy. They wouldn’t be friends if they didn’t.
Immediately, I wondered how I would have felt to be in that situation but I swallowed ….. and knew, I wasn’t invited. Well, certainly not now.
Mountain face is the look he had on his face the first time he and I went to the White Mountains. He said that the mountains were his happy place, and he was glad to have me with whom to share.
I had never been to the mountains, and it was a great experience. The views were unique and captivating. The trails were many and so were the waterfalls. He said he would try to get to each of them with me at some point. In Conway, we took a train ride and ended it with an ice cream in the park. For whatever reason, I had one hell of a time with the cone and wore the ice cream on my face and down the front of my brand-new white shirt.
That was aserious bonding moment.
The boy crowd in my man’s world get together, twice a year. Alone. No ladies. Six times, so far.
So, how is it though, that, I remove myself from my man’s world, and these four suddenly all have time to get together. Does that not validate my feelings? Since, I'm not confident that the squad had any idea about what I was feeling, maybe, maybe not.
That’s the thing tough. Should any woman in anyman’s world be given both the opportunity and the time to wonder, maybe or maybe not?
Does this represent that they are only loyal when he hurts.
They had 3 years to pull that together for me. I’m an author, I’m always free, so it wasn’t me who couldn’t make time. Not only could I make the time, I had no choice but to make the time to sit back and watch.
It took only 3 weeks to pull that reunion together. I guess we can both be confident about who his friends are.I already knew that, but none of them know me. How would they?
He had us all, me and his squad, me and his men, but he kept us in completely different worlds. I did my own things in my own world my own way. I never joined them,and they never joined us.
I come from a twisted past, and I am having a hard time deciding whether the laughter posted on Facebook was intentional. Was I the butt of that joke? Most likely, but…..
My gut says “Of course it was. It was the punch in the gut you needed so you’d know you’d done the right thing”.
I kept thinking about those things, and I grew angry. So angry that I took a long walk, up a steep hill, along the lake, struggling to breathe, to try to soothe my nerves. It didn’t work. It didn’t matter.
After the walk, I came home, and went straight into meltdown. I knew no one could hear me but I had to say, out loud, everything that I would have said had I had a stab at that same audience. I had a lot to say.
It didn’t matter.
Until I cried.
I then found myself saying, ‘I just wanted to matter’, repeatedly. I wanted him, at the beginning of each workday to relay everything going on in my life to all of them. Would they want to know? Would they want to care? I’ll never know. It doesn’t matter.
I had asked my man if we could be friends after the breakup. I didn’t know why, at that time, but, for some reason, I knew it was important to me.
My man, however, decided that he had many female friends but “…my soul won’t let me add another”. Theres the second punch.
Apparently, I just wanted to matter. I wanted to be his friend because his friends mattered. Because his friends were on the positive side of the shoulder shrugs, he gave me when I said that I was feeling hurt. I suppose I must have thought that maybe I could wiggle my way into those worlds from a different angle. Maybe, if I was alike with the other people in his life that mattered, I would matter. I must have thought that maybe he would invite me to go out for drinks, with his friends, if I was also one of those friends. Maybe I could text him during a game. But, he could not bring his soul to add another. I still didn’t matter.
I’m having trouble resolving these feelings and I’m not sure what comes next.
After SLAP number two. He’s now blocked on FB and on text. If the laughter was intentional, I do not wish to keep seeing it. If the laughter was genuine, I do not wish to keep seeing it. Either way it mocks me.
I was tired of spending time by myself while he was out having fun. Would it have been so horrible to invite me, also. I mean, I’m a girl. Well, it’s too late.
It just doesn’t matter.
Vindication? How would he feel if I went out with a group of boys tonight? I could text back and forth with them going foreward and quote him the snippets, if I remembered.
What if I posted it on Facebook? What would he feel if he was the one who was alone at home, watching TV and my pic jumped off the phone screen at him? What response would he have to a pic of me and some very happy boys?
We are different people, I could never do that, but it soothed my anger to think it.
What, then, if I put in an application to V, where he works. I could become one of the people he works with and maybe that would make things change. Then he could be friends with me because now, I would have made myself one of them. Then we could all go out together appropriately if propriety had been the problem.
The truth is, for me, now, it’s too late. I’m tired, I’m sad, and I’m hurting in a way that I never perceived as possible.
Maybe, he wins. I could accept that he ‘won’ in this break up. Does anybody ever win, though?
He joined the dating world first. He gathered the people who would not have had time for us when I was in the picture. I sat at home and watched. Do I accept that I didn’t matter before? That I still don’t matter now? I don’t know. It just doesn’t matter.
I spent Easter in my own back yard with my own fire and I dwelled on my anger all day long. Finally, after 3 hours, I decided that this fire wasn’t helping. It didn’t matter.
I guess, from this, I hope that my man will understand that being the first person in the dating pool, doesn’t matter. When he selects, whoever he selects, he needs to remember that she will want to matter, also.
He’s going to have to be sure that she has not gone no contact with her own family. That would be an equally difficult situation in which to put himself.
He’ll want to be sure she has many friends nearby, in case one of them is busy, to entertain her while he’s out. He’s going to have to find a way to include her in something. Anything, at any time, will do.
He should choose someone who is independent and welcomes being out with her own squad, even when that makes the man jealous. Someone who is dependent on him, as am I, is going to want to matter, too.
I’m tired of begging for a place in this world. I’m feeling reduced.
I am not an ‘eat me’ size person nor am I a ‘drink me’ size girl. His soul will not let him add another.
Friends always come first; I had never stood in the way. The woman who loved you, T, in this situation, just didn’t matter.
If your soul won’t let you add another, there’s no room in your soul,
for anyone who matters.
Please understand,
The woman that loved you
should never have been left standing
on the outside, looking in.
-deMichelle 4/1/24
We hear you,
deMichelle
WIGT, WIGT….what I’m going through while I’m going through it
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