My ex kept me hidden from his friends because, in his words, I wasnt on his level. I sensed it right from the beginning, yet for reasons I still ponder, I stayed. He hailed from a well-off family in a small English townhis father was a renowned businessman, his mother didnt work, they lived in a spacious house and drove the latest car. I, in contrast, grew up in an ordinary neighbourhood. I worked as a cashier in a local supermarket, helping my mum cover household expenses.
We first met in a coffee shop, one I frequented for a quick cup before my shifts. He started calling, texting, inviting me out, and before long we were seeing each other.
At first, everything seemed fine, albeit oddly detached. He never took me to places where he met his friends. Instead, he chose distant, discreet spots, where neither of us would be recognised. If we went for a walk in town centre and bumped into someone I knew, hed immediately drop my hand and say, Lets nip down here. When I finally asked why, his answer was, My mates are terribly judgemental; I dont want any gossip. I swallowed that excuse.
The real wake-up call came at a party he invited me to. I put effort into my appearance, buying a simple yet lovely dress. Once inside, he whispered, Stay by the bar, Ill just say hello to some mates. Twenty minutes passed, then forty. I spotted him across the room, laughing, chatting, hugging people, but never once gesturing for me to join. When I approached, he stopped me with a hand and said, Could you wait outside for a bit? Outside, he explained, There are important people here; I dont want things to get awkward.
Over time, his comments stung more. Hed tell me I spoke a bit too common for his liking, that my clothes needed a change, that he wouldnt post pictures of us together because his family was quite reserved. I never once saw his home; his parents remained strangers to me. When I invited him to my mums birthday, he conjured excuseswork, car troubles, exhaustion. Yet, if events were in his world, he vanished for the whole weekend.
One day, I asked outright, Are you ashamed to be seen with me? He paused, then replied, Its not shame we simply come from different worlds. Youre a good person, but my friends are on another level. I dont want to be judged. That sentence broke something within me. I asked him, And are you judging me? He just shrugged.
The worst part was when I saw photos on his profile with a colleaguea solicitors daughter. Fancy restaurants, high-profile events, laughter, tagged posts. With her he posed proudly. For me, not a mention. When I confronted him, he claimed she was just a friend. We argued bitterly. I told him I wouldnt be a secret relationship. He responded, If you dont like how things are, then its over.
So, that was that. We split then and there. I walked alone for a few streets and cried. A week later, he was officially with her. I went on with work and saw pictures of him in sharp outfits, at glamorous dinners, jetting off places. He never apologised. He never admitted hed hurt me.
Now, I know: for a year, I was the girl no one was supposed to see. The one who existed only behind closed doors. The one not good enough to show in a group photo. Thats not a feeling easily erased.
Looking back, Ive learned that hiding someone is never a sign of love. All those days in the shadows taught me to never settle for anything less than respectand that my worth is never measured by someone elses pride.
