That Weird Day When I Regretted Rejecting a Guy I Didn’t Even Want

I bet it’s also happened to you.

Hi, my name is Mona and I’m addicted to telling the truth at very inappropriate times.

And then I regret it. Because it hurts people.

Today was one of those days when the world would have been a better place if I had just smiled and waved, instead of dumping my thoughts on innocent people.

Here’s what happened.

I’ve been great friends with this guy, let’s call him Jim, for about 20 years. As it sometimes happens with boys and girls, he used to have a thing for me and sadly, I didn’t feel the same way.

And here’s why that’s sad: he is rich, generous, faithful, and oh-so-handsome.

And I told him so. I wouldn’t keep such secrets and neither should you. If someone is gorgeous, they need to be told right away. People love to hear that.

Imagine him like a cross between Henry Cavill and Jesus. Minus the leather pants and crosses, of course.

Square jaw (my weakness), huge blue eyes (my weakness), longer hair (my weakness). Yes, I know, he’s a collage of things that make me weak.

And still… not weak enough.

Yes, he’s always been gorgeous, even better now than 20 years ago, but something just didn’t click for me. Romantically, sexually, emotionally, I just wasn’t there. And it’s not because I didn’t try. He wanted me, he courted me, he was drop-dead gorgeous, and yes, I gave it a try. Still… nothing!

Oh, and did I mention he pays for everything? Absolutely every time we meet, he pays for coffee, meals, drinks, Ubers, comes to pick me up in his car, etc. If we go shopping for some groceries, he pays for my groceries too.

I no longer even reach for the wallet. It’s understood that he would pay, even though I’m not poor, I’ve never asked, and I don’t feel entitled to it. He wouldn’t have it any other way and he does it because he’s a giver.

A giver who earns 6 figures a year.

Whatever happened or didn’t happen between us, we stayed friends and we’re best friends even today. We meet every 2 weeks, go out to lunch, have a great time, laugh, bitch about the world, and never go back home together. Except for that one time. Like old friends do.

The truth is he hasn’t tried anything with me in a long time and I’m happy about that. Our relationship has finally matured and I can lean back and just enjoy my time with a male friend who is not interested in me as a woman. Finally! It’s a relief and it feels great!

It felt great, I mean. Because today, something happened.

If you guessed another woman, you’re halfway there.

Yes, Jim is in love.

Nothing new about that, he’s been in love and in relationships before. Nothing has changed. Except, maybe… myself.

He’s been seeing this girl for a few months and he’s crazy about her. I love seeing him like that. He’s a good guy and he’s the kind who thrives in a relationship rather than on his own.

They’ve been living in new lovers bliss for the past 6 months and we haven’t been seeing each other as much. But now that the novelty had worn off and he was again able to breathe without her, he decided to start showing his glowing face to the world again and we went shopping.

He wanted to buy a suitcase for himself because he’s taking her to the beach next week. The beach in the Maldives, that is.

Nice, very nice, I thought.

Would I help him? Of course I would, let’s go.

We went to the mall, where he got the suitcase for himself, and another one for her. He also got her this small backpack that she wanted, a cute set of underwear in all the colors of the neon rainbow, a fluffy sofa cushion that he thought she’d like, and all the sexy lingerie I suggested would look good on her body type.

While he was doing this I couldn’t get a word in.

He talked about her incessantly: Omg, she’s so cute, she’s so gorgeous, her feet smell like peaches, she makes the cutest noises when the car hits a hole in the road, and oh wow, it’s going to be so much fun in the Maldives, because they’ve already taken a small vacation in Turkey and it was awesome, blah blah blah and blah…

That’s when I realized it. And my heart stopped.

We just got out of the underwear store and he still had the colorful set of panties in his hand, fanning them out, probably imagining her wearing them.

Well, we were both imagining that, she’s quite beautiful, and I’m a sucker for a pretty face. Or body.

I stopped and looked at him with the deepest regret in my heart.

‘I’m so stupid’, I said, in a dry tone.

‘What’s going on?’

He stopped fanning himself with the panties.

‘Why the hell didn’t I want you?!’

‘Huh?’

‘This could have been me… I could have been her… this could have been us…’

He immediately realized what I was saying and the features of his beautiful chiseled face collapsed into a sad caricature. He turned away from me and looked intently at the mannequin in the window, naked but for a thin lace garter.

‘Don’t say that…’ he said in a small voice.

‘Why not?’

‘Because it hurts!’ he turned towards me and his big blue eyes looked like huge overflowing swimming pools. He was crying.

‘I’m sorry, I was just thinking out loud’, I said, trying to find an excuse and hold back my own tears.

I messed up. I should have known better. The words just came out of my mouth and hit him right in a wound he had tried so hard to heal.

I was the one that got away. And the regret is always there no matter how far he’s come.

‘It would have been great. And that’s exactly why I don’t want to think about it. It took me a long time to close that door. So please don’t ever say it again.’

I won’t. I’ll never say that again. I don’t know why I did it in the first place. Nothing but a selfish jerk of the mind that regrets what it didn’t want in the first place.

The truth is that I could have never been her. Because she wanted him, and I didn’t. That’s my regret. Not that I’m not in her place. But that I don’t even want to be there, no matter how good it is.

The lesson is this: we can regret what we never wanted. It doesn’t mean that we’d make a different choice if given the opportunity. I know I wouldn’t.

It’s just a longing for being someone else, living a different life. A regret for an impossible version of reality that we wouldn’t fit in anyway. A short-lived spasm of the mind that proves that we shouldn’t believe everything we think. What we think is not who we are. What we do is.

And what I did was this: got myself a pair of those funky neon panties, ate a huge piece of sad girl cake, took a long nap, and woke up happy. No regrets. Life can’t be sad when you’re wearing neon green.

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