I’m not sure when I realised that I was no longer feeling melancholic distress about my sexuality. The woe is me, I am loveless mood had just gone.
It was anger, now.
I was so angry.
At everything.
I was angry at fate for dealing me these cards. Even though I knew there was nothing wrong with me – lots of people were like this, I wasn’t alone, love yourself, whatever – I didn’t know how to get to the point where this would stop feeling like a burden and instead feel like something good, something I could celebrate, something I could share with the world.
I was angry at every single couple I passed in the street. Every single pair I saw holding hands, every single time I saw that couple down the corridor flirting in the kitchen. Every time I saw two people cosying up in the library or in the cafeteria. Every time one of the authors I’d liked posted a new fanfiction.
I was angry at the world for making me hate who I was. I was angry at myself for letting these feelings ruin my friendships with the best people in the world. I was angry at every single romance movie, every single fanfic, every single stupid OTP that had made me crave finding the perfect romance. It was because of all of that, no doubt, that this new identity felt like a loss, when in reality, it should have been a beautiful discovery.
Ultimately, the fact that I was angry about all of that just made me angrier because I knew I shouldn’t feel angry about any of these things. But I did, and I’m trying to be honest about it, OK? OK.
The reality of the situation with Pip and Jason only sank in when they both dropped out of the Shakespeare Society on the same day. The last day of term.
They didn’t even do it in person.
I didn’t have high hopes that they would attend our rehearsal on that Friday before Christmas, but Rooney and I went along anyway, unlocked the room, switched on the electric heater, and moved the tables to one side. Sunil turned up none the wiser, wearing a coat that was basically a blanket and a smile on his face. We didn’t know what to tell him.
Ten minutes after they should have arrived, Pip messaged the group chat.
Felipa Quintana
Hey so me and Jason have decided we’re not gonna be in the play any more, too much other work and stuff. Find some other people to replace us.
Sorry
I saw it first, then passed my phone to Rooney.
She read it. I watched as she bit down on the insides of her cheeks. For a moment, she looked furious. Then she passed my phone back to me and turned round so neither me nor Sunil could see how upset she was.
Sunil saw the message last. He looked up at us with a confused expression and asked, ‘What – what happened?’
‘We … we all had an argument,’ I said, because I didn’t know how to explain what an actual clusterfuck this small group of people had become while Sunil was an innocent bystander just wanting to take part in a fun theatre society.
And it was all because of me.
I have always felt lonely, I think.
I think a lot of people feel lonely. Rooney. Pip. Maybe even Jason, though he hasn’t said so.
I’d spent my teenage life feeling lonely every time I saw a couple at a party, or two people kissing outside the school gate. I’d felt lonely every time I read some cute proposal story on Twitter, or saw someone’s five-year-anniversary Facebook post, or even just saw someone hanging out with their partner in their Instagram story, sitting with them on a sofa with their dog, watching TV. I felt lonely first because I hadn’t experienced that. And I felt even lonelier when I started to believe I never would.
This loneliness – being without Jason and Pip – was worse.
Friends are automatically classed as ‘less important’ than romantic partners. I’d never questioned that. It was just the way the world was. I guess I’d always felt that friendship just couldn’t compete with what a partner offered, and that I’d never really experience real love until I found romance.
But if that had been true, I probably wouldn’t have felt like this.
I loved Jason and Pip. I loved them because I didn’t have to think around them. I loved that we could sit in silence together. I loved that they knew all my favourite foods and they could instantly tell when I was in a bad mood. I loved Pip’s stupid sense of humour and how she immediately made every room she entered a happier place. I loved how Jason knew exactly what to say when you were upset and could always calm you down.
I loved Jason and Pip. And now they were gone.
I had been so desperate for my idea of true love that I couldn’t even see it when it was right in front of my face.