We both wanted different things in a relationship. She wanted a tall guy who was well-established in life. I’m not tall, nor am I well-established. I wanted a woman like her, but of course, not one who would make demands of me. I was looking for someone I could build with. She told me she wasn’t that kind of girl. We should have parted ways, but something held us together—a friendship that allowed us to be ourselves with each other.

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One day, we had sex. We talked about it afterwards—what it meant to both of us and how to deal with it going forward. She told me, “It’s just sex, and it happens. It doesn’t mean anything.”

So, whenever she had an itch, she called on me. Whenever I felt like it, she was the one I turned to. We didn’t give it a name, but we had become friends with benefits. It benefited me to have someone I could do that with whenever I wanted. That way, I didn’t need to rush into a relationship that might fizzle out quickly.

We continued like this for almost a year before she met Godwin. She told me, “I’ve met a guy. He ticks all the boxes. I’m going to give him a try, but it doesn’t mean what we have is over.”

She dated Godwin while whatever we had continued on the side. She loved Godwin. She spoke about him fondly—the places they went, the things they did, and what they talked about. She had nothing bad to say about him. I had to ask, “So why are we still here?” I asked myself that question, and of course, I had no answer. Her relationship with Godwin pushed me to look for someone I could also love. I found Rebecca, a lady who didn’t want intimacy until marriage.

I had Rebecca; she had Godwin, and we still had each other. She came to me when she needed what I could give. Every day was special. No emotions, just pure performance. I learned one thing: that intimacy is not everything. It can bind people together, and it can make a relationship gel, but it’s not all the things we say it is.

A year later, they are talking about marriage. Godwin is committed, and she is too. They want to marry before the year ends. When she told me, I asked if that was what she wanted. She screamed, “Hell yes! If not, what would I be doing with him?” She asked if I was okay. Of course, I was.

But we had a conversation—a conversation that is the reason I’m sharing this story. She told me, “I’m getting married, but that doesn’t mean we’re over. I still need you in the shadows, even after marriage. You’ve been a good friend. I don’t want to lose you in the name of marriage.”

I asked, “What would I be doing while you’re married?” She answered, “The same thing we’ve been doing. What else?”

I was happy at first, but now I’m not. It feels wrong, especially since I have Rebecca, who’s making life easy for me. She’s the woman I’ve been praying for. She ticks all the boxes. Her only shortfall is the intimacy she’s not granting me, but it’s for a reason, and I’m okay with that.

My lady on the side keeps updating me about their marriage plans—what they’ve been buying, how they want their wedding to look, where they’ll live, and where they’ll go for their honeymoon. I want to tell her I’m out of whatever we have. I plan to tell her. I draft the conversation in my head, but as soon as she comes around, she lays me down, takes what she wants, and I’m unable to say anything.

That Is The Craziest Thing I’ve Ever Done In The Name Of Love

The way I see it, we’ll destroy our lives very soon and lose the ones we love along the way. But the strength to leave—to leave now—is what I lack. I’m not asking for help on how to break away, but if you have something to say, I’ll listen. I want to leave, and I want the courage to say it now, but it looks like I’m neck-deep in what’s going on, and it’s hard to jump out of it.

—Anderson

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