Being a Stand-in Girlfriend

“I just—I don’t want to be a stand-in to you.”

Stand-in sounded so hateful coming out of my mouth. The words did carry a lot of hate, though. I had said the words a million times to him, yet this was the first time I actually meant them and wasn’t just seeking validation by his denial. No hatred or anger was directed towards him, but towards the situation I faced. I hated knowing that I was being replaced in the coming days, and my once nonexistent insecurities and confusion seemed to ooze out of my pores like the hangover I knew I was going to have tomorrow morning.

I stared down at my nails and refused to make eye contact, only glancing up quickly to try to read his expression. He acted offended that I even said such a thing.

“What? Stop. You’re not a stand-in.”

He sounded so sincere, but when I looked up, he couldn’t meet my eyes and as he processed the words, his face transitioned to a moment of brief realization that he may have lied when he said it. It would have been easier if he would have just corrected his obvious mistake. My blonde ponytail could have belonged to any other. My tiny hands he made fun of could have been a different size attached to a different body. My laughter could have easily been replaced by any other laugh that was probably less annoying in nature. He should have realized this and however he felt, he needed to be honest. To tell me that yes, I was a glorified stand in and that he was going to replace me, move on with his life, and that I should do the same. I proved I could handle all of his brutal honesty—but even after all the times he became vulnerable with me, I knew he felt that he just couldn’t trust me with this. That honesty in this matter would topple the remains of the coliseums in Rome and cause all hell to break loose.

I wanted something more. I wanted closure for sake of my sanity and to update my Tinder profile or (best case scenario) for him to confess he didn’t want to move on because his feelings for me were too strong to just ignore. Just like how mine were.

But we rarely get what we want right?

This wasn’t the first time I had felt like this that year though. First time being the other woman? Definitely. And trust me I would never do that again.

But the first time feeling like a placeholder? Definitely not.

You would call me cute if I walked past you on the street. I’ve been told my smile is one that could be the start of many wars. I’m the girl your parents actually like and I get along well with other girls and your friends. I’ll take care of you when you’re sick and surprise you with dinner when you’ve had a bad day.

Guys, I get it. I’m a drama-free girlfriend to have when you need one. I understand why this happens.

Don’t worry, I also know I’m no angel.

I recognize that and I know my faults—yet I’ve gotten the drunk and sober calls from ex boyfriends saying the same thing each time:

“You were the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Yeah I know. I know that I was. I’m loyal as hell and would literally shove knives into my leg for you if you asked me to. I am said to be the best thing to ever happen to you, yet that only is realized after my rotten and bruised peach corpse has already been tossed aside and you picked up a different kind of fruit.

My biggest fear comes true again and again—I serve as a placeholder for another girl to come along and take the spot.

You’ll laugh with me, have fun with me, create our own little inside jokes, and even fall in love with me.

However, I’m a stand in for the girl you actually want to marry.

It’s a placeholder position that I have.

It’s a temporary space I occupy which may last years, but my main purpose is to not allow you as the guy pursuing his hopes and dreams in life to be lonely. It’s a space that could be filled by literally anyone else with a vagina. Meanwhile, as I make you laugh and satisfy your thirst for a companion and a friend, you consume a huge chunk of my heart and my mind. I won’t ever be able to minimized us or be able to talk about us like we were just acquaintances. Because none of my relationships will ever be just acquaintances. You actually meant more to me. Maybe I didn’t fall in love with all of you but I can tell you for a fact that you didn’t serve just as a placeholder to fill a void while I waited for my true love of my life to enter stage right. That’s not how I ever saw it. To me, at the time, you alone were the love of my life. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have wasted one single moment more on you.

You however had the immaturity to keep me around knowing you wouldn’t put up with me much longer. Insecure like a child, you clung onto my waist and kissed me as you had these thoughts. You dealt with confusion about me that I didn’t have in return for you.

And it’s not fun. It never is.

“I hope that’s true, because you meant something to me,” I said as my throat began dry up. It was becoming harder and harder for words to form on account of it being so late.

His silence should have been an answer. I should have taken it as closure.

I didn’t.