Being a friend

So just over a year ago I broke up with first love, who I had been dating for two years. He was kind, funny and my best friend. We met the first day of university, and he honestly got me through the new loneliness I was experiencing. He accepted my craziness and supported my independent self-sufficient personality. He reminded me of my strength on the days I saw everything but. And I was good for him too. I brought a confidence and self believe out of him. He was shy by nature, but I brought out a side to him that would talk for hours. And anyone could see he loved me deeply, and I felt truly treasured. It was a healthy relationship, one we both felt found comfort it. We sometimes struggled with an invisible power inbalance, him believing he wasn't worthy of dating me. I tried to settle his soul but it was always there. But after two years I struggled with a gut feeling that something wasn't quite right. I couldn't explain it. There was no big problem. Something was just wrong. We took a break and I decided to end it. Knowing I was breaking both our hearts. 

We stayed friends, and it was nice to have my best friend back. This man truly knew me inside and out. But it was clear he was struggling with just being friends. Then one night he messaged me, and I got the impression he was having a really bad night and got very concerned. But then found out his friends were the ones texting me. He had told them what he used to call me. I felt betrayed. I knew I had hurt him but we were trying to be friends and it felt cruel. So I cut him off, something I never thought I would. If he wasn't mature enough to try and stay friends, why should I put myself through it. We both were just about to go home for the first lockdown, and it felt like the world was so unknown. 

Now it's been a year of no contact. We're back in same city but I know he'll be a completely different person to who I knew. Just as I am. It has been challenging but I'm okay. There have been times when I've wanted to message. Check he's okay. Check his family are well. I'm thankful for my friends on those moments, who remind me what he did and why we broke up. I've managed to separate the feelings of missing him and missing having a partner. Which settles my soul. Conversations with my friends have made me realise I need a true partner. Someone who stands on their own feet as strongly as I do. Someone who has a drive to work hard in life. Someone who not only supports me, but challenges me aswell. I contemplate now, whether I loved him. I think I did and to say otherwise would be disrespectful to our past selves. But I don't think I was ever in love with him. And I do believe there is a difference. 

I often struggle with myself. I feel lonely and want the comfort a partner brings. But I hate that part of myself. I'm an independent person. I pride myself on my work ethic and my strength. And so to have this side of myself that misses being held. That misses someone knowing me that well. I feel like I'm betraying my feminism almost. I do not need a partner. But I would like one. And over this pandemic I'm learning to accept that's okay. But self acceptance is not linear and I still have days when I need to be kinder to myself. To be the friend to myself, that I am for everyone else.