I Found Out He Had A Girlfriend, And He Told Me Not To Be Upset
I got attached. Part of me believed you were someone I could hold on to, and the other part was still nursing my broken heart.
You said you were different, and I believed you were. I met you by chance, two strangers with a mutual attraction. We didn’t click right away, but that doesn’t matter when your first and only impression of someone is based on looks.
I wasn’t looking for romance. Someone had hurt me in the recent past and fun was the only thing on my mind. I didn’t want Prince Charming, I wanted a boy who would captivate me like a good show on Netflix and eventually, I would get to the series finale and be done with him. I wanted to have short attention span and then move on to the next shiny object.
You wanted that too. You had just gotten out of a relationship and weren’t looking to be tied down. It was fun to flirt with you, laughing over Skype and sending each other cute text messages throughout the day. I was having fun, and one day, it stopped being enough for you. I was enjoying playing the field and you asked me to stop. You wanted me all to yourself, you would tell me, but the moment I would start to consider it, you replied with how great our fun friendship was.
I was confused. This was supposed to be fun, and now it was Play-doh in your hands, ready for you to mold it into a relationship or nothing at all as you pleased. When I asked you to stop, reminding you of all the times a guy has hurt me in the past, you would give me grief for thinking you were anything like them. You were different, you claimed, and you didn’t want to hurt me. You were a nice guy, and nice guys hold broken girls like me tight and love them until they are whole again.
You didn’t love me. You were all talk about how you were serious about me and you, but then turn around and talk about how great it was that we weren’t serious so you could ask out some girl. It was whiplash knowing you, and I wasn’t sure whether I should let myself get attached. I thought I hadn’t.
I got attached. Part of me believed you were someone I could hold on to, and the other part was still nursing my broken heart. Deep down, I longed to be the kind of girl that wanted to settle down, but I fought that small desire with everything in me. You were a nice guy, but I was going to make you work harder to tie me down.
You tried. You lectured me on how unhappy I must be to not be interested in dating and how great we would be together. I disagreed with you, reminding you that my happiness is not directly related to my relationship status. You would sigh and change the topic, sneaking it comments about it for the rest of the night. Afterwards, you would tell me all about the girl you had just met or a girl that had reappeared in your life, suddenly hungry for you.
I thought about it some more, almost ready to say yes. Relationships weren’t my thing, but having something, someone consistent in my life sounded so good. Life with you seemed like a good idea and you seemed like a safe route. After all, you were a nice guy and you wanted me when you seemed to have so many girls interested in you. What was the worst that could happen?
You had a secret: a girlfriend a few towns over. You’d been seeing her for years.
I found out. You swore to me that it was nothing, just a fling you had on the side, but I heard otherwise.
You said we were just a fling, so I shouldn’t be upset. We weren’t serious, and you didn’t want us to be. You had asked me to share a future with you, and now maintained that we didn’t have a future. We were a present, you said, and that’s all.
I was the other woman, but not after that night. You swore that you were different. I swear that I was right. 
