Missing Someone Who Is Bad For You

Do you remember Gotye’s one hit wonder Somebody That I Used to Know?

I remember dancing to that song as a 12 year old, belting it over and over again until my mom literally forbade me from listening to it. Now 20 years old, I just heard it play in a movie, and suddenly I’m feeling tears fill my eyes. Memories of someone who had fallen out of my life invaded my mind and poisoned me with an all-consuming sense of loss. Suddenly I’m sitting next to my long-term partner thinking about someone else I used to hold close before him. Someone who’s caused me pain. Someone who I haven’t talked to in over a year. I realize it isn’t about Gotye’s song at all.

Jimmy was a one night stand that became a long distance "flirtship" that lasted for almost a year. One week before moving to LA for college, my friends took me to a party near UCSB that Jimmy was hosting. When we met, I remember thinking how there was something about this guy that seemed so genuine. And despite wearing a predictable SB Yater shirt and flip flops, he actually was. I didn’t want our conversation at the party to end, so I went home with him that night to finish it.

The next day, he asked me if I wanted to pick up tacos and watch the sunset. Sitting with him, I had a brief moment where I wished I wasn’t leaving town for college. But that moment quickly passed just as the sun had set, and against my best interest, I spent another long night with him.

Jimmy and I talked for months after we parted ways. He went off to Spain for a study abroad semester and I started my first year at USC. But we texted every day and Facetimed once per week if not more. After the initial awkwardness of establishing that neither of us held romantic expectations, I started to see him as a friend. A good friend. And once December rolled around, Jimmy asked to see me in person during winter break. Yes! A reunion! We made a plan weeks in advance, but when the day actually came for him to drive to LA and see me, Jimmy called me with bad news. An hour before he was supposed to meet me, Jimmy explained that I wasn’t as much of a priority as his friend who he was currently thrift shopping with.

We didn’t speak for three months after that. After he called me, I was fuming, but I was also conflicted. Was this even worth getting upset about? Was I overreacting? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I felt hurt, so I cut off communication until one night, three months later during spring break.

A few college friends had taken me out to a bar in Newport Beach that served 36 oz margaritas. It was 9pm, I was 2/3 of the way through my marg and shoveling guacamole into my mouth when a text popped up from a number I didn’t recognize.

I hate the way we left things. I understand if you don’t want to talk to me, but I want to let you know how sorry I am. I hope you’re doing well.

Who is this?

Jimmy.

I nearly dropped my phone in the guacamole.

Before I knew it, I was balling in the margarita cantina scream-reading the text over the loud mariachi music to my girlfriends, asking them what I should do. As per their advice, I sobered up and reread the text the next day. I agreed to talk to Jimmy that night on the phone; we both apologized, and for a few more months, him and I went back to being friends, or so I thought until we saw each other in person.

We were both in Santa Barbara for a weekend, and this was the first time that we would see each other in eight months. He picked me up, and three hours later, I was laying in his bed out of breath. I guess we didn’t know how to be just friends. We spent the rest of the day together, but after leaving his room, I knew we had fucked up. I didn’t know how what I was feeling, but whatever it was, I needed to keep it under control.

Later that month, Jimmy told me he met someone, and he didn’t think we should talk as often. Which I knew meant we shouldn’t talk at all. But I pretended not to understand. I threw a fit. I told him I was happy for him, but she shouldn’t be a reason you give up your friends. Still, we stopped all communication.

I had never been in a relationship, so typical dating etiquette was not as clear as it is now. I wasn’t his “ex,” but I may as well have been. And it wouldn’t have been fair to her for me to continue holding onto him as much as I did back then. The cathartic response to Somebody That I Used to Know has passed. It only lasted about 5 minutes, but the hurt I initially felt feels somewhat resolved. I look over at the man of my present, smile, and go back to watching the movie.