Page 132 of Staying Selfless

My features soften as I cock my head, looking at my hurting friend. “I just want to acknowledge that I want to hug you right now, but I can’t because of this fucking hair dye on my head.” I grab her hands in mine, finally earning a smile.

“What do you mean you didn’t like yourself in that relationship?” I gently ask, trying to avoid the real question I want to be answered, which is, ‘the girl who doesn’t do boyfriends had a boyfriend before?’

“I mean, that relationship drained me,” she explains after taking a deep breath. “It took the life out of me. I never laughed. I never smiled. I never even had my own opinion. I wasn’t me anymore. I was just somebody’s girlfriend, and I hated that.”

“What was he like?” I’m very curious to know what kind of man affected my fun, wild, and confident Ali.

“I don’t want to talk about him. It’s not about him anyway. It’s about me.”

“You’re right. How long were you in this relationship?”

“Just over two years.”

“Two years?” I ask, my eyes widening. “Ali, I feel like I don’t even know you.”

“That’s the point. That wasn’t me. This is me.” She points to herself. “Well, not this,” she adds, motioning towards her tear-filled eyes. “But the person I’ve been since I moved here. That’s me.”

“Can you start from the beginning because I’m a little stunned and don’t know the right questions to ask.”

“We met my sophomore year of undergrad. I don’t even remember falling for him. I don’t know if I ever did, but all of a sudden, we were in a relationship. He was the first person I was ever with—”

“But you said you had never slept with someone you had any real feelings towards?” I interrupt.

“I hadn’t. Until Marc. The only feeling I had in that relationship was the feeling of being trapped. I felt suffocated, like I wasn’t allowed to speak my mind.”

Ali pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath. “He got into grad school at NYU, which meant that’s where I was going too. Not that he ever asked my opinion. It was his way, always. He even told me what I could and couldn’t wear, Logan. And I promise you he didn’t approve of my Docs, that for sure.”

I’m angry for my friend, but I’m also shocked. The Ali I know would never let someone tell her what she could or couldn’t do, but it makes me proud that she got herself out of that situation.

“I don’t think he even liked me as a person,” she continues. “I mean, how could he? He didn’t know the real me. I didn’t even know the real me anymore.”

“What made you finally end things?”

She takes a deep breath at the memory. “I was with his family, celebrating our college graduation last spring, and someone asked my opinion about something. I can’t even remember the question. All I remember is that I was shocked that I didn’t have an answer because I couldn’t remember the last time someone asked me what I thought about something. I didn’t know what my opinion was on anything anymore.”

Ali has been outspoken and unfiltered since the moment I met her, and the fact that someone dimmed her light makes me so upset for her.

“When I got home that day, I looked to see which grad schools were still accepting students, and that’s how I ended up here. I broke up with him with barely an explanation. When I got in my car and left New York, I promised myself that I wouldn’t put myself in that situation again. I wouldn’t get lost in someone else again. That I would spend the next period of my life by myself, figuring out exactly what I thought about things and how I felt about the world.”

I offer her a small smile, looking at my friend with more understanding than I ever have before. “How do you feel about the world, Ali?”

Her lip tugs up at the corner, but her half-smile doesn’t have much joy behind the act. “Today, I feel like my world is sad because I hurt the only guy who knew the real me and liked what he saw.”

If sympathy, sadness, and understanding were all rolled into one word, it would perfectly describe my expression right now.

“Ali, we all love the real you,” I remind her. “Minnesota is very lucky that there’s a jackass in New York who ran you out of the state.”

Her lips tilt in a thankful grin.

“So, the truth is,” she begins with a deep breath. “It’s not that I’m afraid to commit, but I have a fear of losing myself before I’ve even figured out who I am. I should’ve told you a long time ago, but I was embarrassed for you guys to know that the previous version of me even existed. She kind of sucked, to be honest.”

I drop my shoulders, tilting my head. “Your past doesn’t define who you are now, Al. Your past just makes me understand you a whole lot better. And it’ll help Marc understand too.”

She averts her eyes. “Nothing changes for me. I like Marc. Fuck. I like Marc so much.” She drops her head into her hands. “But I don’t even know who I am. I know I act like I have the answer to that, but I don’t. I should’ve gone about the Marc situation in a better way, but I’ve never been allowed to communicate before and now I feel like I don’t know how to do it. I should’ve told him where I was at mentally, but I was trying to change and just get over everything from my last relationship because I like how I feel when I’m with Marc. But I’m not over it yet, and I’m trying to figure myself out. I think I have to do that on my own.”

I’ve had my fair share of past relationship trauma, so I completely understand where Ali is coming from, and even though it’s not what Marc wants, he will understand too.

“Marc’s been worried about you, Al. I really think you should talk to him.”

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