My ex-boyfriend used to hide me from his friends because, according to him, I wasnt on his level. I knew this from the very beginning, though I stayed anyway. He was the son of wealthy parents in a small English town his father ran a thriving business, his mother didnt work, they lived in a sprawling house and drove a spotless new car. I, on the other hand, grew up in an ordinary neighbourhood, worked as a cashier in a local supermarket, and helped my mum with the bills.
I met him one morning in a coffee shop while grabbing a latte before my shift. He started texting, calling, inviting me out on dates. At first it was exciting and strangely enchanting. But he never took me to places where hed meet his mates. Instead, hed choose distant, tucked-away spots where no one recognised us. If we strolled through the high street and a familiar face appeared, hed instantly drop my hand and whisper, Lets head this way. When I asked why he acted like this, he replied, My friends are terribly judgemental, I dont want any gossip. I swallowed his explanation.
The realisation hit hard at a party he invited me to. I dressed carefully, bought a simple but elegant dress. As we walked in, he muttered, Just stay by the bar, I need to say hello to a few people. I waited twenty minutes passed, then forty. I caught glimpses of him across the room, laughing, posing for photos, hugging others. He never introduced me to anyone. When I approached, he practically blocked me and said, Wait outside for a bit. Later, outside, he explained, There are influential people here, I dont want any awkward moments.
With time, his comments began to sting more. He remarked that I spoke too much like a commoner, suggested I change the way I dressed, and insisted hed never post pictures of us together because his family was very reserved. He never brought me to his house; I never met his parents. When I invited him to my mums birthday, he made excuses work, car trouble, fatigue. But when his crowd had events, hed disappear for the whole weekend.
One day, I asked him directly, Are you ashamed to be with me? He was silent for several seconds, then finally replied, Its not shame were just from different worlds. Youre a good person, but my friends are another kind. I dont want them judging me. That sentence shattered something inside me. I asked him, And can you judge me? He just shrugged.
The worst came when I saw photos of him with a colleague the daughter of a well-known solicitor in town. Expensive restaurants, fancy events, smiling poses, tags. He looked proud to be with her, unlike with me. When I questioned him, he said she was just a friend. We argued fiercely. I told him I wouldnt be someones secret. He replied, If you dont like the way things are, then its over.
We broke up right then and there. I walked alone for several blocks, crying. A week later, he was officially seeing that woman. I continued working and stared at his posts: flashy outfits, trips, posh dinners. He never apologised. He never admitted the pain he caused.
Now, I realise that for a whole year, I was the girl meant to remain unseen. The one hidden behind closed doors. The one who wasnt good enough for the group photo. Thats something not easily erased.
