Manic Pixie Dream Girl

Recently,  I got used to cheat on someone's girlfriend without knowing that she was his girlfriend. 

In the past, this wouldn't have bothered me; I've been used to cheat on people's partners before. When your self-esteem is as low as mine is, any attention is good attention. I’m not saying that this is a good thing; it’s just a simple fact. This time it sent me down a BPD spiral so severe I spent two nights off my nut on over-the-counter painkillers in an attempt to knock myself out. I felt ugly, small and like I was being kept a secret. Which I was, because the "fun" we had together had to stay in his hotel room. Once again, his words, not mine.

I knew the girl in question existed; he'd mentioned her before and sent me Snapchat photos of them having sex, which I'm going to go out on a limb and say that she didn't know he was sending. I'm also going to go out on a limb and say that she doesn't know we slept together either. He told me he was seeing someone and that he wanted to pursue it further, which completely threw me, mostly because he had me pinned to the bed at the time. I also didn't really understand what he was saying. He mentioned a change in our friendship, but I couldn't tell if he meant I'd no longer be receiving snaps of him in the shower or that he didn't want us to talk anymore. My BPD causes severe abandonment issues, and I really don't like losing friends. I had no idea what was being said or what his romantic situation was, and I wasn't given the chance to process how I felt about it before anything happened.  

I met the guy in question around three and a half years ago when I lived in Melbourne. He's a comedian and was taking part in a comedy festival at the bar I was working at. He was charming, sweet, and I fell hook, line and sinker for his "just another one of your smiles" response to my asking if I could get anything across the bar. Comedians can be very charismatic. We went on a spectacular date, making out in the park for hours and walking hand-in-hand around the city. Your girl fell HARD, but he had to go back to Tasmania, and I had to go to work, so we said goodbye. 

He told me from the get-go that he dated openly, which I was okay with. I’ve been involved with people in open relationships in the past, and both parties have been aware that I existed, so I assumed this was a similar situation. I also tend to avoid dating in general because relationships aren’t my strong point, and after my fair share of lie-soaked situationships I appreciated the honesty. I'll admit that in the beginning I had feelings for him, strong feelings, but they disappeared pretty quickly.  After a trip back to Melbourne together, where he spent the night looking at pictures of other women's boobs, actively trying to get away from me, and a meet-up in Perth that consisted of two straight days of him complaining about his "partners" or "significant others", any romantic feelings I had for him soon faded away. 

Another side note: the term significant others is way funnier to English people than it is to anyone else, and only if they're an Only Fools and Horses fan. 

The thing is, much like other men I've known, he clearly still thinks I have feelings for him. Male egos are complicated things, especially when they work in the creative industry. Something about their confidence being boosted by getting positive reactions to their art really messes with their heads. Every person I know in the creative industry is either incredibly insecure or has a self-confidence level on par with Henry Cavill after the infamous Longines watch video. It seems to be nigh on impossible to get them to understand that my feelings towards them have changed, no matter how hard I try.

Immediately after we'd slept together, I left his hotel room feeling the same way I've felt after the vast majority of our interactions. Like I'd been hanging out with an anvil. At first I described it as hugging a teddy bear with a cheese grater on its tummy; it's nice to be hugged but still scratchy and painful, but I eventually realized he makes me feel like a third wheel even when it's just the two of us. My mum asked if it was because he's so self-absorbed, which is incredibly accurate and also incredibly insightful of her. 

This third-wheel feeling quickly set my BPD on fire. I have no desire to be with this guy, but he sends me down a "why her, not me" spiral. Why am I not the one he wants to be with? Why am I not the one that anyone wants to be with? It also got me thinking about other times people have told me they loved me, and how there's always been a caveat involved. I could love you if you were here. I love you, but we can't be together. The ifs and buts have been blaring in my head, and I've been having panic attacks, crying in the middle of the night, self-medicating with painkillers and wanting to cut my arms. Desperate to change everything about myself so someone will love me.

It was my friend Anna who helped me realize they were clearly together. I told her how I was feeling about the interaction, and her Instagram stalking skills could rival the FBI. With a few clicks, I had screenshots that more than confirmed that they were a couple. She also pointed out how easy it was for him to use me to cheat on her. We don't follow each other on any social media platforms. We only communicate via Snapchat. I don't exist to him online, and so I don't exist to her. There's no reason for her to ever know who I am. 

The fact that he told me she was flying to meet him in the Gold Coast with his parents to surprise his nan was a big hint too. That's not usually the behaviour of someone you're casually dating. 

There is a chance, of course, that I'm wrong. Maybe he still dates openly, and this is what he's doing now. Maybe she's aware and okay with it. But my gut is telling me this isn't the case. Saying our friendship would change and that the fun had to stay in his hotel room doesn't sound like he's going to be telling her about me. I hate feeling like I'm being kept a secret; it's happened a lot in the past. And no matter how much I tell myself that the actions of someone I don't even want to be with shouldn't affect me, they really, really have. 

He calls his girlfriend a "woodland water nymph" (his words, not mine), which I assume is the Renaissance Fair version of the manic pixie dream girl. I've seen pictures, thanks to Anna's Instagram stalking, and she's beautiful and seems to fit the description pretty accurately. The millennial equivalent of the girl next door, the manic pixie dream girl is wide-eyed, fresh and fun. Her whimsical life is soaked in creativity and imagination, and she spends her days frolicking in fields of wildflowers and her nights lying on the beach gazing up at the stars. She's fun, carefree, and her favourite hobby certainly isn't self-mutilation. She is simply someone I cannot be. But, putting my assumptions aside, her being beautiful doesn't mean that I'm not; it doesn't make me ugly. I know I'm not as hideous as he made me feel, and that my opinions on my appearance are all my own, but it doesn't stop those feelings from being there. I may be the only person who actively makes negative comments about my appearance, but his actions still influenced how I feel about myself. 

My reaction to being used to cheat has shown that I've made some progress, though. Had this happened six months ago, I'd have found solace at the bottom of a bottle of wine or a bag of blow. Now not only did I not let this ruin my sobriety, but I actually feel something about being used to cheat on someone's partner. I'll be honest, that feeling isn't guilt, although I know that she's the one who has been hurt the most in this situation. It's made me feel that I deserve better than to be someone's secret. That I shouldn't be hidden away. I'm no longer blaring Dirty Little Secret by The All-American Rejects in the shower, and I know that I deserve better than this. But this newfound self-awareness isn't making me feel much better. I'm not his woodland water nymph, I'm not his manic pixie dream girl, I'm not his girlfriend. I don't want to be. But I am a person, a beautiful and kind person who deserves to be treated with respect and love. This would have flown when I was younger and still drinking and using, but I'm actually starting to like myself for the first time in my life, and I really want to keep it that way. 

People I've talked to about it have told me I should reach out to her. To tell her what happened and that something feels off, just in case my suspicions are correct and they are, in fact, monogamous.
It's what their respective social media profiles are saying, after all. But I don't know if I want to. My official reason is that I'm sober now and I no longer want to do things just to hurt people who've hurt me, which is what I'd be doing if I did tell her. There's also a part of me that hopes he'll come back to me, though- that hopes we can still be friends even though he has made me feel so small- and that's the part I need to work on. 

xXx