Despite Its Occasional Difficulty, Honesty Really Is The Best Policy

Do you remember that night right after Thanksgiving when you met me and my brother and sister at Colley Cantina? It was shortly after we began dating and I voiced some concerns that we might not be looking for the same thing. Remember how I told you that I was "the queen of monogamy" and that "I don't do casual"? Remember how you responded to my fears by saying, "Let's try something different: let's be completely open and honest with each other"?

I do. I remember it because I consider openness and honesty to be the foundation of any relationship, and because it was that conversation that made me believe I could trust you.

When did you decide you were no longer bound by that agreement? When did you decide you had so little respect for me that you didn't need to be open and honest with me? When did your desire for casual female companionship become more important than my desire for a meaningful relationship? When did you relinquish responsibility for everything but your own feelings?

A lie of omission is still a lie.

I don't know when you realized you didn't have feelings for me, but I do know it was long before you said so, and I suspect that you wouldn't have even said so if I hadn't asked. Because, really, why would you? Sure, there's that bit about openness and honesty above, but you knew if you told me you weren't into me there'd be no one across from you at the dinner table or underneath you in bed. So you allowed me to believe that the time we spent together meant something, and I bought it because, well, I like to think that people aren't shitty.

All of that was pretty callous, and your approach to the conversation wherein you contemplated aloud why you just weren't "feelin' it" and uttered platitudes like, "I think you're a nice person" was painfully insensitive. However, none of that was quite as damaging as your insulting and unreasonable expectation of continued friendship.

You used me. Why would I want to be your friend?