I (32m) don’t admit this often but I think I made a terrible mistake.
When I was in college, I met my best friend. I thought I’d hate him at first. Kick him out like I did to my previous roommate. He was this bland, perfect, handsome all-American boy. Smart, friendly, athletic. You know the type. Mr. Popular. Religious too. Gross.
But he turned out to be more complex than I originally thought. There was a darker, honest side to him that he hid from everyone else—and only I could see. We had a lot in common. And so we became really good friends.
We were young and stupid and didn’t know how good we had it back then. I didn’t even realize I liked him at first. I just knew that I always wanted to be with him, and that I wanted him to pay attention to me, and tell me all about his secrets. He told me things about himself and his family that he never even told any of his girlfriends.
Maybe it was his stupid religious repression, or maybe he finally realized he was too good for me. Anyway, we had a big fight. First it was a disagreement about his thesis (we were both straight A students and constantly competing for the top spot), and then about a girl, and then about our relationship.
He betrayed me. I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to hurt me so badly. From then on, I could only hate him.
Long story short, it was a rough time in my life. I went to prison for several years, met a guy (41m) on the inside who stayed with me even after we both got out, and adopted a daughter (13f). But even with the two of them, I couldn’t stop thinking about my old friend. In prison, there’s not a lot to do. All I could do was improve myself and think. Remember. Plan.
Every single day I thought about him and how I could make him suffer.
My new partner and daughter both hate him. They’ve heard the stories and they know how terrible he is. But suddenly I learned that he’s in town and now I can’t stop thinking about him. I have to see him. I have to talk to him.
Did he spend those ten years thinking about me too? Or did he forget all about me like the asshole he is?
Whatever I have now doesn’t matter when weighed against the possibility of seeing him again. I’ve always been drawn to him. I had something important and it slipped through my fingers. Never again. I’m never losing him again. The world is dull and gray. All this time, I’ve just been waiting for things to click back into place. Seeing him again is the only thing that makes sense.
Maybe I am the asshole. Maybe wanting to go back to him makes me the villain. But that’s fine. He’s always loved playing the hero.