I reach for my phone. It’s 02:30. It’s a text message from him. “Ahoj bestie I got so drunk last night that I think my phone died and idk where is it…….. Adam said he thinks it’s at the bar so I have to go there ….. I’m so sorry babe that I wasn’t here I was literally fucked up!!!! I need you please you can have anything you think of please … It’s not about the phone I’m wake right now and my head hurts”
Text messages from halfway around the world is how I start my mornings now. Don’t get me wrong I’m not complaining that’s for sure. It’s been one month of constant communication with him.
Talking with someone new is fun and exciting. Especially when it begins to happen multiple times a day, everyday. You text them to see what they are doing or talk to them about their day. It even becomes a habit. Soon, you wake up and your first thoughts are of them. You find yourself thinking about them often and next thing you know you fall asleep not only thinking about them but, your dreams are full of them.
I reply with an unexpected answer, “Hey Bestie?” Deep down I am very upset. I was waiting all evening to hear from him. I knew he when out with his friend but I never expected to be ignored. It was for thirteen hours. You start to question why he doesn’t reply. You wonder did you do something or has some girl caught his attention and maybe I slipped his mind tonight. I now sit and stare at my phone waiting for his reply. Nothing. I begin to think… who am I to expect him to pay attention to me? He has no obligation to text me. I have been fooling myself. I need to wake up and see I am just a distraction. I drift back to sleep.
Another text comes across my phone, my heart races as it wakes me from my dream. “Hey, Bestie, I have my phone, now.” It’s just a regular message like nothing happened, doesn’t he know I wondered all night. I need to focus, we are only friends. He has an whole world of friends that I know nothing about, but.. he continues to reach out to me, everyday.
The cycle repeats itself, early morning texts telling me about how awesome I am and what he plans to do today. The selfies he sends are unreal. I feel like he is making me part of his world. This is good. It feels good. Then, in the afternoon, into the evening, nothing.
As if, I thought I was anything more then an ear to hear about the prior night’s adventures, I am receptive to listen and keep all his secrets, he likes that. I am someone who he can complain about his mom or dad or friends too. I am his Bestie.