A little bit of background, Ghost, before I launch into my latest litany: A guy I dated when I first moved here let me go about 4 months into our “relationship”. For the purposes of this post we’ll call him Fred. What I actually mean by ‘let me go’ is that he gave me an endless series of letdowns over the period that we saw each other until I told him I couldn’t see him anymore. I don’t know if he quite understood that he was repeatedly hurting me in small ways even though I told him so, but I definitely dragged it out way too long. I felt like I was too much for him, and I was pained when it ended because I saw possibility there, but his relief that it was over was palpable. In any case, I no longer have romantic feelings for Fred, and I’ve since dated other people and worked out my hurt. Onward and upward.

Lately, almost a year later, Fred has been asking me to hang out with him again. It’s been purely platonic, a drinking buddy scenario. He’s a kind and funny guy who I don’t think meant to hurt me. I do like talking with him, and I understand his fears and hopes and worries. We’re near the same age, so I can empathize.

Tonight, I invited Fred to a bar where I was meeting workmates for a Groundhog Day Happy Hour get together, because the venue is in his neck of the woods. He gave me a noncommittal text answer, but showed up anyway. I was glad he came, and we split off from my work group and sat and talked while waiting for some other friends.

My friend B and her husband D joined us. B is one of my closest friends here. A little while after they arrived, she said she wanted to ask me a question. She said she was worried about how much time I spent caring about other people like Fred, as well as the most recent guy I dated (who I nursed back to health at my apartment after he severely lacerated his leg). She asked if these people were asking how I was doing. Were they listening to me and doing things for me, too?

The question surprised me. I explained that I liked helping my friends and listening to them when they were in need. With some of them, it’s been reciprocal. Certainly with some of my friends I’ve felt hugely supported. They reach out to me often, champion my successes, and listen and offer advice when I need it. These are hugely fulfilling relationships.

With some others, it’s been a one-way street, and I thought I didn’t mind that. I mean, I have a support network, and everyone needs someone to listen to them or help them sometimes. I am really happy to be that person for those who think I’m a good sounding board, or who are struggling and need a helping hand.

B’s question started some wheels turning, though. I do often feel as though I pay to play. Friendships should be free, right?

Anyway, at some point tonight our little group all moved to gather around the patio fire because it was cold. I sat next to B and chatted with her while Fred chatted with D. Then a beautiful young blond woman sat down on the other side of the fire from me, and I could see that Fred was smitten. He was talking to D, but every glance was her way. I lost track of my friend’s conversation with me. I lost track of my thoughts. I stared into the fire until everyone else blurred. I was surprised that I felt hurt. It wasn’t jealousy, it was something else entirely. The hurt was the kind I’d felt every time he’d ghosted my texts when we were seeing each other. Or when he’d told me to go home when I wanted to spend the night with him (which happened more than once). It’s a kind of rejection, coupled with embarrassment at being found wanting or vulnerable, or both. When he finally leaned over to the young woman and said “what are you drinking?”, I stood up.

That’s it, I told my friend, I have to go. I think she understood.

It’s not that I think I’m going to get back together with Fred, because I truly don’t want to. It’s definitely not that I don’t want him to date. I want him to be happy, and thrive. Maybe it was B’s question to me that was the trigger, or maybe it was Fred’s noncommittal response to my text asking him to join me when my texts to him are always enthusiastically affirmative, or maybe it was that I’d asked him to see a show with me and he found two others on the same night that he’d rather attend. Maybe it was a combination of those things, but I suddenly realized how he’d been monopolizing my time, how I’d spent the last few Friday and Saturday nights listening to him at bars while sitting in the freezing cold because he smokes and didn’t want to sit inside. Paying to play.

I suddenly felt a very strong urge to get away. I needed very much to have some moments to hash some things out on ye olde iPad.

So, as I sit here at a different bar after that scenario, it’s finally hitting home that I’m mostly a friend of convenience to Fred. It has begun to dawn on me, finally, though he’s been screaming it all along, that he only does things with me when there is no better alternative. Every noncommittal text, every invitation met with “maybe”, the constant hollow promises to do things with me that are never followed up (even as I was leaving the bar, he said to me “let’s go running soon”, something he’s been saying since I met him and has never done), these are all signs that I am near the bottom of his list of people who are important to him. Once again, I’m finding that people tell you exactly who they are if you’ll only listen.

I am vulnerable in many ways as I navigate my new life, and my fear of missing out has been high in this new place, with these new friends. It’s not Fred’s fault that he is the way he is, or that I’m hurt by his ambivalence. I do, however, think it’s high time that I become more choosy regarding who is allowed access to me, and how, and when.

Supporting my friends by being a good listener is the right thing to do, but being perennially available when Fred calls is stealing time from me, time that could be spent in a manner that would be more beneficial, like petting my dog or making a lasagna, or even maybe meeting someone else who could be a good partner. I think this “friendship” is going to have to be something shallower. Maybe it will just be the sort of acquaintanceship where we see each other by happenstance, when our mutual friends get together.

As my friend Sarah pointed out, if I’m always the one crossing the street, I set the relationship bar lower on my side and show that I do not know my worth. Friends, she pointed out, grow together, not one in the shadow of the other.

Demand to be wanted, don’t settle for being needed.