My ex-boyfriend used to hide me from his mates, claiming that I just wasnt quite on his level. I knew it from day one, but I stuck around anyway.
He came from a well-heeled family in a small English town his dad was a big-shot businessman, his mum didnt work, they lived in a huge house and drove around in a brand-new BMW.
Meanwhile, I lived in a modest neighbourhood, worked on the tills at Tesco, and helped my mum with the bills.
We met in a café when I was grabbing a coffee on the way to my shift.
He started calling, messaging, inviting me out.
At first, it was lovely, but there was always something a bit odd.
Hed never take me to the pubs or clubs where he hung out with his friends.
He always picked out-of-the-way, low-key spots where no one would know us.
If we were walking through the centre of town and I bumped into someone I knew, hed immediately drop my hand and whisper, Lets go this way. When I asked him why he did that, he replied, My mates are really judgmental, I dont want any gossip. Somehow, I let that slide.
The penny really dropped at a party he invited me to.
I dolled myself up, bought a simple but pretty dress and was feeling quite optimistic.
As soon as we arrived, he leaned over and whispered, Just stay by the bar, Ive got to say hi to a few people. Twenty minutes passed.
Then forty.
Across the room, I could see him laughing, taking selfies, giving out hugs.
He didnt introduce me to anybody.
When I finally went over, he blocked my way and said, Wait outside for a bit. Later, on the pavement, he explained, There are important people in there I just dont want any awkwardness.
Little by little, the hurtful comments crept in.
Hed say I spoke far too common, that I should dress differently, and that he wouldnt post photos of us on social media because his family was very private. He never took me to his house.
I never met his parents.
When I invited him to my mums birthday, he came up with every excuse under the sun work, the car, feeling tired.
But whenever there was something happening with his crowd, hed vanish for the whole weekend.
One day, I just asked him outright, Are you embarrassed to be with me? He went quiet, then said, Its not about embarrassment, were just from different worlds.
Youre a lovely person, but my friends well, theyre on another level, and I dont want to be judged. Something inside me broke.
I asked, And are you allowed to judge me? He just shrugged, as if that settled it.
The worst moment came when I saw, on his Instagram, photos with a colleague the daughter of some hotshot solicitor in town.
Posh restaurants, big events, fancy grins, tagged locations.
With her he posed, with her he was proud.
For me, nothing.
When I brought it up, he insisted she was just a friend. We had a proper row.
I told him I wouldnt be anyones secret.
He said, If you dont like it, were done.
And so it was.
We broke up on the spot.
I walked several blocks home alone, crying my eyes out.
By the next week, he and that woman were officially an item.
I went back to work, kept seeing his posts in fancy outfits, holidays and fancy dinners.
He never apologised.
Never admitted hed hurt me.
Looking back now, I realise for a whole year I was the girl no one was supposed to see.
The one who only existed behind closed doors.
The one who wasnt good enough for the group photo.
And that sort of mark doesnt wash out easily.
