I always say to Glory Edozien, “You are the love mistress. Love is your territory. You love, love.” It is true; Glory IS the love queen. She has this glow when she talks about matters of the heart. Me? Not quite. I don’t care. My love is my writing. My heart? Chained away, padlocked and frozen.
So, when I found myself in a Situationship, I struggled with confronting the realisation that this is what was actually going on.
Aidanneal.com properly captures it:
“A situationship is basically a pseudo-relationship. A placebo masking itself as a formative relationship. It smells like a relationship, it sorta looks like a relationship, and it may even feel like one, but it’s not. Urban Dictionary describes a situationship as any problematic relationship characterised by one or more unresolved, interpersonal conflicts. usually confused with dating.”
All caught up now? Good!
A situationship is that halfway place between talking and being in a relationship. It’s sha a whole lot of rocking chair style techniques. (No, not sexual, you perv!) I mean, it gives you so much to do, but takes you NO WHERE!
You’re talking to this person but you don’t really want to ask that dreaded question because you don’t want to come across as an Eager Beaver. So you just let the absence of definition drag on and on and on! Till you find yourself broken hearted. Then you’re told “But we were not in a relationship, ke!”
Dearly beloved, I’m here to preach one word of Rhema to you today…It is very okay to ask that question.
The Love Queen, Glory Edozien also confirms it. In any case, once you’re in your 30s, you have the carte blanche to do anything you want to. You know why?
Because you’re an ADULT!
So, since I’m such a tough talker and a know-it-all, why did I fall into this pit of despair and become a bumbling mess when I asked the “what do you want with me?” question and got the “friendship!” response?
I was still going to be a strong woman, okay? I wasn’t going to let a man use me emotionally and tell me he just wants to be friend. No! I stood in my room, with all the righteous indignation in the world.
“I am going to need to dial this back a whole lot! I can’t do the kind of friendship you want.” I beat my chest King Kong style and decided to cut the man off!
The Elastic Heart Series is the result of my decision. It chronicles my walk through the pain of trying to clutch myself back from my Situationship. It has been a long, arduous journey and I hope that nobody will ever tell you that it is easy.
Because, that sh*t hurts so bad.
My emotions Yo-Yo’d from happiness, to relief, to anger, and back to intense sadness. Days of tears soaking my pillow, and me trying to muffle my sobs because I didn’t want my roommate to think this strong girl had somehow crumbled. I feel a little better now, and I’ve decided to share my experience in a 5-part series. If you have never heard Elastic Heart by Sia, please get acquainted, because this song got me through this very difficult period. I may not be as strong as I thought I was, but now I realise that what I have is an Elastic Heart.
I hope you enjoy this series and I hope it helps somebody.
Okay, I don’t want to do cold turkey again. Cold turkey is too hard. I miss you. It is ridiculous. I know. I know.
I know. I knowwwwww… stop telling me what I know. I know you don’t like me like that. I know. I knowww. I know this will end badly. I know you have said it honestly and truly… you cannot do anything more than this WhatsApp dependency. Okay, maybe I have mental issues. Maybe… maybe maybe I am just used to being used. Maybe I haven’t ever had to ask for more. Maybe that is why after just 4 days…. or is it 3? I’m crawling back to ask for crumbs from your table.
Maybe I just don’t think I deserve better. After all, I’m used to the friend zone. Maybe that is why I am here typing this long missive.
Maybe it is not actually you you you gan gan that I miss. Maybe I just want to not feel so alone.
Maybe this isn’t even about you thinking I’m worth the effort or the attempt.
Maybe it is just me being a sucker for punishment.
Maybe I just like being rejected because it is all I know.
Why else would I be writing you? Why would a strong, talented, beautiful woman like me say to you… “it’s okay. Use me to fill a void.”?
Maybe I truly deserve to be miserable.
But I miss you.
This is ridiculous.
You should have just left me alone.
You should have just been popping up after reading one in six articles.
You shouldn’t have made me start watching TV with you.
You shouldn’t have made me laugh.
You shouldn’t have shown me you are kind, and honest, and thoughtful.
You should have just left me alone.
Now I am distraught and I don’t know how to do this cold turkey business again.
I miss you, Dude.
I really really really do.
You did me wrong by not leaving me be.
Why did you not just leave me be if you knew I was too far away?
Now I’m getting angry. Anger feels much better than missing you.
Yes. Now I’m angry. I love that I’m angry. It only means I won’t send you this message.
So tell me what you were going to happen with this girl so far away? Involve her in your life then dump her if she got too clingy? Or maybe slowly remove yourself when you met someone better suited to your needs locationwise?
How long was this friendship supposed to go on?
What kind of friendship was this to be? The one where we’re involved in each other’s daily activities? I don’t even know my closest and most intimate friends the way you were bringing me in. You can’t even deny that you were doing it. I was that shoulder, vacant and available.
How do you feel knowing that you were planning to wreck me? I’m not wrecked now, because I saw that sh*t coming and I had to pull the brakes.
Forget everything I wrote earlier.
I don’t miss you.
You tried to use me.
You f*cking tried to use me… and you’re supposed to be one of the good ones. You are supposed to be one of the decent ones.
Nah! How could I have, for a second, forgotten that you are a Nigerian man?
Shame on me.
But a bigger shame on you for not being a better person.
Elastic Heart by Sia
Photo Credit: Charity Adetiba-Howard