He Said Everything I Wanted to Hear… a Year Too Late

Lazily, I rolled over to reach for my phone on the nightstand. Once in hand, I silenced the alarm and unlocked my phone to see what had happened while I slept. Most mornings, my initial phone scroll takes less than two seconds. Waking up to red bubbles demanding my attention is something I purposefully avoid. I don’t believe in having a roster, group chats stress me out, and I like to keep my DM’s clear of friends of friends who just see me as a bitch in a bikini. But this morning, there was a name on the screen that I hadn’t seen in over a year. 

“Craig? Holy shit.” The shock woke me up better than my morning latte.

Craig found me in an IG story of our mutual friend, Brittany. Soon enough, he slid into my DMs. He was a Pisces, the exact Zodiac opposite of my Virgo sun, which explained our magnetism toward each other. He lived in Texas, so we had a digital flirtation. Over four or five months, we made each other laugh. I sent him voice memos with an exaggerated Minnesooota accent, teasing him that I saved my longest O’s just for him. He would sing back at me in a high-pitched voice, earning him the nickname ‘Song Bird.’ Craig took an interest in my hobbies, like yoga and astrology. He’d crack jokes about trapping a ‘Florida yoga mama’ and loved to ask about the compatibility of Pisces and Virgos.

It was easy and fun. I often wondered what his intentions were since we lived 1300 miles apart. Our geography was an unspoken barrier, but that didn’t stop us from having deeper conversations. He shared his insecurities about being an entrepreneur, and I told him things from my past that only my journal knew. Craig loved that I went to the beach at sunrise every morning to write; sometimes, I shared my writing with him. There seemed to be a genuine connection, but since we were pen pals, it was hard to tell if it was something real. 

Then we finally met. The day before I left for Texas to visit my dad, I texted Craig.

“I’m gonna be in your state mañana! Enjoy the extra sunshine I’m bringing.”

His response was immediate and intense. He wanted to know what city I was flying into and how long I would be there. It turned out he lived only 45 minutes from the airport. He rearranged his afternoon to pick me up and take me to lunch before I met up with Dad. All the ease and chemistry between us were very much present during our lunch.

After I joined my dad, Craig kept texting me, and soon enough, the conversation turned to how we could see each other again before I left.

Hmm… maybe this could be something more.

I smiled like a lovesick teenage girl at my phone, enjoying the butterflies taking first flight in my stomach. Then, Craig busted out the flyswatter.

“I don’t want to do anything to risk my friendship with you and Brittany.”

Why was he lumping me in with Brittany? The butterflies were now squishy, sad messes, battered down to the floor, struggling to flutter their wings. Is he fucking friend-zoning me? 

“To be clear, you have no interest in me beyond friendship. Is that correct?” I went straight into business mode. 

“Yes.” 

The fuck? “Thank you for telling me.” Butterflies officially dead. 

I was annoyed. What was the point of all the back-and-forth? We stayed in touch and dialed the flirting way back. I didn’t want to set myself up for another dose of whiplash from him. 

A few months later, Brittany dragged me to a Grant Cardone conference (aka cult meeting) Craig happened to be attending. I was totally comfortable in the friend zone he’d corralled me into and didn’t feel awkward about seeing him. However, Craig seemed to be trying to open the gate.

The three of us sat together in the convention hall. Between speakers, the topic of blowjobs came up. What a weird topic for a business conference. Brittany shared a bad experience with braces. Craig busted out with detailed descriptions of his approach to a woman, looking at me intently the whole time. Is he auditioning for me right now?

Brittany turned to me. “What do you think about oral, Claire?”

“I like to give and receive.” I smiled, then turned my attention to people watching. 

All through the day, I kept catching Craig looking at me. Anytime he had an opportunity to sit by me or touch me, he did it, like when he reached out to give my thigh a playful pinch as I walked by. What’s he playing at? 

That night, Craig threw a fit when I decided to go to dinner with a different group, so I promised to meet up with him and his friends for a nightcap. His group fawned over me like a celebrity the moment I arrived. “I’ve heard so much about you, Claire!”

He insisted that I sit right next to him. Once the buzz of my arrival died down, he leaned in toward me and put his back to the rest of the group. “I love being around you.” He whispered. He smiled and gently touched my arm. “I realized that today.” 

I looked at his hand on my arm, then up into his. “Yet, you friend-zoned me.” My eyes narrowed.

“Claire! No, I didn’t.”

“Yes. You did.”

“Okay.” He leaned back, running his hands through his thick brown hair. “You’re right. I did friend zone you.” 

I gave a tiny eye roll. Tell me something I don’t know. 

“But that’s not what I want.” 

I raised my eyebrows. 

“Claire, I’m scared I’m gonna fuck it up with you.” 

“Then don’t fuck it up.” 

He squeezed my hand. “I’ll be a good boy. I promise,” he said. 

Craig’s desire not to fuck it up lasted as long as it took him to get into my pants that night. 

The next day, we were hanging out on a couch tucked in a corner of the swanky hotel’s lobby bar. I stretched out and rested my head in his lap. We had already checked out of our rooms, and I was waiting for Brittany to pick me up.

“I want you to know, Claire,” he said. He played with my hair, and I expected a compliment or a promise of what was next for us.

“You are free to do whatever you want.” He wrapped his arms around me, granting his permission like a priest bestowing a blessing upon a destitute prostitute in search of salvation. You wretched soul. Allow my words to cleanse your sins and light your path forward. His absolution made me feel cheap and used like a whore, not praised and adored like a saint.

I stiffened. “So, if I went off and fucked someone else right now, you wouldn’t care?” I asked. 

“Exactly. You are free,” he smiled down at me. 

 I snapped up, pushing myself to the other end of the couch. He’s doing it again. Open-mouthed, I stared at him like a salmon gulping river water. This makes no sense. Then, a wave of understanding washed over me. Everything I thought we had between us was all in my head, and that’s precisely what he wanted the whole time. “You’re fucking friend zoning me again.” 

“Wow, I just watched you write a journal entry with your eyes. It’s like I’m at the beach with you at sunrise.”

“You got to be fucking kidding me.”

“You’re so angry. Claire Bear Wrath coming at me.” He looked like he was staring at a grizzly bear about to rip the head off a fat salmon plucked from the river. “And I thought we were friends.” He pouted at me.

I wanted to tear his head off — both of them. 

“I’m not your friend.” I stood tall and stiff, arms crossed over my stomach.

“Claire! What?” His face was panicked. “People marry their best friends.” 

“I am not your friend, Craig.” 

Brittany’s white Alfa Romeo pulled into the valet stand, and I left without another word. Craig followed me outside, calling after me, and I ignored him.

“Are you okay?” Brittany asked. I burst into tears, sobbing too hard to speak. 

Craig reached out the following day, and we eased the tension. Given our mutual connections, I didn’t want things to be awkward, but I needed a genuine apology. Instead, Craig said he found my anger ‘concerning’ and suggested I work on my issues. How could I not be angry? He seemed to think we could still be ‘friends.’

A month later, he tagged me in a comment on an astrology post about how Pisces and Virgos make great couples. I was over it. I went full Claire Bear Wrath and called out his breadcrumbing. I went out of my way to poke at the soft spots in his ego. 

“You’re too concerned that everyone thinks you’re some ‘biz pro.’ I guess committing to a woman doesn’t fit with the douchebag image you’re so desperate to create.” 

Craig requested “a little slack and understanding” from me. I had none to give, and he certainly had none for me. 

After a year of no contact, Craig had a lot to say. I propped up on one elbow to read his message. 

“Hey there, hope you are doing well.

I’ve learned quite a bit over the past year and made some real changes. It all stemmed from you putting your foot down with me on being extremely whiplashy.

Actually I ended up stepping on someone else’s heart again and finally realized that the common denominator was me.

Nothing was wrong with anyone else other than myself and my immaturity.

I’ve taken a complete hiatus from dating anyone for the past 5ish months and actually that person and I are really really good friends now and I hope you and I can some day work towards that!

If you’re not in a place to accept this apology I completely understand. I’m truly giving without expectation of a return response so don’t feel obligated.

If you are in a good spot and you want to talk I’ll answer any questions or take whatever comes my way.

I know that from your marriage there were some things that you were dealing with and I hope those parts of your life have past.

Mucho Luvo,”

Everything he said was exactly what I wanted: responsibility and ownership for his actions, understanding and compassion for how he made me feel, and why he made me so angry. But it was a year too late.

I was happy that because of knowing me, Craig felt like he’d become a better person. He wasn’t the only one who had changed over the past year. So had I. One way I changed was understanding that not everyone deserved access to me.

I didn’t respond.