“He is not going to marry you; you are just a temp.”
The words of the woman pierced into my heart like a knife. She was right. I was wasting my time.
All these months, I was dating someone who turned me into a placeholder. I was the committed one, he was using me to pass time until “The One” showed up.
I am a five-foot nine-inch chic, Pretty face with a Master’s Degree in Computer science, but I can not keep a man. They walk in and out of my life like a bus stop. I thought in my pretty head that I was doing it right. I wore nice clothes, smelled good, my hair appointments were monthly, nail appointments were bi-weekly. I took trips four times a year. I attracted handsome men with everything going for them but commitment.
So, the question is, what am I doing wrong?
I met Philip in Cabo. He was the perfect boyfriend for me. When we got back to Los Angeles, we went on dates back-to-back. I was living my dream relationship. He had the hots for me and I felt the same way. Sex was ahhhhhmmazing. He was damn good in bed. It made me pray that I was not sharing him with any other woman.
Red roses at work.
Roses on my doorstep.
Foot rubs in the evening or weekends spent together.
Front row seats at sporting events.
Surprise weekend getaways.
Expensive designer accessories.
Should I say more? Would you want what I had? Yes, and yes.
This was my perfect relationship which included constant phone calls and video calls. Then the smoke started. He started spending time with his friends. He used work as an excuse, not to go-to date nights.
I complained to my co-worker Sasha who had become a confidant.
“Maybe you should let him have space,” she advised.
“Yes, maybe he is dealing with stuff and he is either internalizing it or doing something different it may have nothing to do with you,” Sasha said.
I could not understand what she meant by him dealing with stuff. He could always talk to me.
My phone calls were automatically sent to voicemail.
Getting a response to my text was like playing the lotto.
Then the fire started.
He didn’t return my calls for a whole day, so I decided to check on him.
I drove forty-three miles to his home in Laguna Beach. I opened the door to his condo with my key and saw a woman on the couch watching tv.
“Hey,” I greeted in half shock and half uncertainty. For all I knew, she could be a relative.
She sat up in surprise.
“Hey, how may I help you?” she asked as she put the remote control in her hand on the center table.
“Where is Phillip?”
“He is not here,” she replied flatly.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Bianca, I am his girlfriend. And you are?”
It felt like my heart had leaped into my mouth. What did she just call herself?
Then what was I?
“You were a placeholder,” Sasha replied as she listened to my sob story.
I had never been so humiliated in my life. I took the walk of shame out of Phillip’s home.
“He loved me, we were going to get married,” I said quietly. I was convinced in my heart that he was the one.
“He was not in love with you,” Sasha said with a straight face. “Listen, sweetheart, this is not new and I know it hurts so bad, but men lie. They lie about you being the one because they are cowards and can’t let you go. They want to keep you in place until they can find ‘the one.”
I didn’t want to believe this whole heartbreak thing was happening again. What was it about me that was not making them commit?
“I did everything to make him love me and make me stay.”
“Well maybe that’s where you missed the point, you were too busy trying to make him stay and you didn’t stop to check if he was worthy of you. You are worthy of love. You will not get love from the wrong one.” she said with a smile.
“You are right.”
“We lie about our requirements sometimes, and when we find the requirement we reject it, it happens even with women too”
“So how do I keep a man, I am tired of these constant breakups.”
“You need to be your true authentic self, the right man will see that and he will stay, just take this as the trash taking itself out and start all over again.”