You're (not) My Lobster

Everyone has a love story they recite the most.

For some it’s about a passionate fling.

For some it’s their first love.

For some it’s about the love of their life.

For some it’s their worst heartbreak.

For me, it’s about the most frustrating, confusing, and tiring three years of my life.

I’ve told this story numerous times, each retelling more frustrating than the last because it’s a story that evolved and continued for three years. Everyone who has heard the tale, shares the same level of frustration as I do because it’s something that will leave you wondering ‘what the fuck is going on with these two?’ It’s a sitcom worthy 'will-they-won’t-they' situation.

The titular lobster I'm referring to could be seen from a FRIENDS point or from a How I Met Your Mother point. Where in FRIENDS, a lobster means the love of your life, your soulmate. The lobster from How I Met Your Mother refers to something or someone you want so much you go a little crazy until you get them.

The story begins like every other, through the first encounter. I'm known to be something of an 'extra' person when it comes to my friends. Everything I do for them is dramatic, over-the-top, but with heart and effort. So when my close friend's birthday came up, I had to do something special for her. In that case back then, it was renting a professional studio to do a cover of her favourite song with all her close friends including the ones I didn't know.

And that's when I met him. He wasn't good looking nor athletic nor my usual type, rather an intellectual who shared the same interests as I did. When we first met, we wore the exact same outfit - a white t-shirt, army green jacket, black jeans, and black sneakers. It was like something out of a cheesy romcom but we connected instantly. The spark, the chemistry, it was all obvious to everyone but us as our friends tried so hard to get us together. He steadily grew to be one of my closest friends as we would call and chat often. I was the first one to know of his hospitalisation despite being one of his newer friends. And we trusted each other more than we've ever trusted other before. We hung out often after that, so much so it became a thing where I'd steal his fedora hat and if he managed to steal it back from me, I'd have to pay for dinner. If he failed to do so, he has to pay for dinner. My parents thought we were dating and so did most of our friends but we weren't.

A few days before he left to study abroad, we met one last time for dinner with out group of friends. We arrived earlier and walked around, talking, laughing, it was comfortable and happy despite him leaving soon. When our friends arrived, we ignored their calls for a good 15 minutes, just wanting to enjoy each others company before having others join us. We had dinner and went to the movies. As we were both history nerds, we decided on Dunkirk, really not the most romantic movie but it was enough for us to nearly share a kiss that was interrupted by the dying soldiers and bombs on screen. After the movie we went around until we were the last two people in the mall. He took me to a working piano on the second floor and with the moonlight basking him in the darkness of the building, he played the piano.

And that's when I realised that I was in love with him.

He left a few days later, our last hug lingering in my mind as I made my way to school under the dark clouds that seemed to line up with my mood. My friends didn't need to ask as they hugged me, knowing of what happened and the three words left unsaid on my lips. He had left a few weeks before my birthday which I had invited him to, even left an empty seat for him as if he was there. He called me during the party, donning a suit and tie despite being in his uncle's basement somewhere in Ohio. It was to fit in my dresscode, he said with that shiteating grin I grew to love.

We kept in contact, often calling for hours. To the point where I got to know his friends there, being put on speakerphone during parties and get togethers. During those nights when it was just us, we'd talk for a bit before sending each other videos or movies to watch and react together until either one of us accidentally fell asleep. It became a habit that when he was drunk or when he can't sleep, he'd call me and ask me to stay on the line until he fell asleep. Everytime I was sure he was, I'd whisper those three words I didn't dare to say to him when he was awake. I always thought that in some future we would be together until one day he called me, saying he has a crush on a girl on campus. This hurt of course, but it wasn't as bad the pain I felt when he started to date her. Of course I was the first to know, the first to congratulate him, hiding the shards of my shattered heart.

Oddly enough, even with a girlfriend, he still sought after me for comfort and for company. He was very open and detailed about his relationship to me, keeping the number of times and how far he had gone with his girlfriend in great detail to which he sent to me on a near weekly basis. I was the first to be introduced to his girlfriend through a call and she seemed fine with it. Every time he hit a rough patch or even the slightest bump, he always had me on speed dial. I had thought his girlfriend would be jealous to the point where I would leave him unread for a bit longer, claim I'm busy when he calls. I respected her too much but he still kept on insisting in having me on the line until he slept. Our first meeting was the only time we've ever talked, so you can imagine my great surprise when during a fight, she contacted in asking for advice on how to handle him. While this happened, he was ranting to me about her, also asking me for advice. As you can see I was in a very awkward position but somehow I pieced back together their relationship.

He came back the next summer and that's when things went downhill for the happy couple. The long distance was too much and they ended fighting so often for the weirdest reasons, I got together with his close friends for an intervention. It worked, they broke up. At this point I still had feelings for him but I was too tired to do anything. I couldn't handle the pain. Things fell back to routine for us as I started my first year of university. We'd still call and with more flexible hours it grew more often. We became each other's biggest support, most trusted confidiante, and the first person we each went to when something happened. I grew to know his friends more and he would call me during parties to introduce me to everyone. That went on for a year as I tried to push back my feelings for him even more, it was too late for us to do anything without ruining the friendship so I tried to move on.

My resolve to finally get over him happened during the Summer of '19 after my birthday. After a game of 20 Questions, he said something heartbreaking that made me cry. I didn't see him again, opting to skip his going away party because I didn't want to face him just yet... I couldn't. I sent him a letter with my feelings packed in it a month later and that's when things went from zero to ten. The takeaway from his reaction was:

1. He had feelings for me too

2. He wanted to ask me out but never did

3. It was MY fault for not telling him sooner

So there it was, the answer I was hoping for. I was so pissed off at him that he blamed me for breaking my own heart before talking about a new girl he was trying to get close to. So I did what I had to do, I took on more projects in campus, lost 40 pounds, and improved to be a better version of myself. In that time we didn't speak much, it was awkward between us but he started contacting me again when I took on one of the largest events in my campus. I worked with a guy who grew close to me and he would appear in my instagram story often, he is now known as rebound guy despite us just being friends. This prompted a lot of questions from the titular lobster who started getting a lot more attentive despite us being awkward for a few months.

Anyways, I flew out to the states for my Winter break to visit my aunt and uncle in California. Lobster, who's in the east coast, decided to go to the west coast with his family to meet me. We were planning on meeting up in LA but somehow we ended up meeting in SF as well. It was my last night in SF and his first night there when we met up in a diner after I watched Hamilton. It was crazy, seeing him for the first time since the letter. He had commented on the weight I lost and how I held my head up higher, and suddenly that feeling of awkwardness melted away as we had supper, walked around, and smoked a pack of cigs as the cold SF air accompanied us. We walked until 2 AM before he took be back to the hotel I was staying at.

That's where we had the talk. The second we got in the cab, he started asking me about rebound guy, belittling him, and even saying how I downgraded from him. I was pissed because rebound guy was my friend and he really wasn't my type, plus he hates Harry Potter, something I lived and breathed. This spurred into the conversation that contradicted the lightness of the previous talks. About the letter, about our relationship, but one thing he said that truly fucked me up was:

"In another life, in another reality... we would have been endgame."

I spent five minutes just staring at him, so unsure what to do. My feelings for him were long gone but there was a nervous feeling in my heart. What should we do now? With that proclaimation, what is he expecting from me. He laughed it off, saying that I'll find someone better than him before moving onto a different topic.

I last saw him in LA. It was the definition of the perfect day. We met at Universal Studios Hollywood with his family whom I never met before and spent the whole day together. If you know me, my perfect day would be the Wizarding World of Harry Potter with my close friends. My perfect date would be the Wizarding World of Harry Potter.

Which was what happened.

We spent the whole day together, he fulfilled his decade long dream of going on the Jurrasic World Park and I fulfilled my decade long dream of going to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. We decided to catch a movie afterwards in the theatre near my uncle's house, which meant he had to sleep over. Being avid Star Wars fans, we caught the Rise of Skywalker together at the midnight show. We spent the whole time geeking around in the darkness of the theatre, at one point we held onto each other in excitement. The movie was a terrible end to the Skywalker Saga but I still enjoyed it because I was with him.

We were alone on the streets after the movie, waiting for the Lyft driver to pick us up. He hugged me suddenly, tightly, and buried his face in my hair. A gesture he never did and slightly terrified me. He asked me whether I'll always be by his side no matter what and of course I said yes, trying my best not to make things too intense. I joked about how I was scared of dying alone, as an attempt to make things lighter, but he took it seriously as he claimed that I'll always have him and he'd want to be buried beside me if I do die alone. Things got more intense that night, we stayed in my uncle's living room.

It was warm, the only light being from the warm lamp on the second floor. We both crashed on the L shaped sofa where I played with his hair out of habit and he played with mine as an effort to get me back to sleep. We had a talk, deep and long about us, about how things had changed. I was half asleep when he stopped playing with my hair to grab my hand, stroking the knuckles as he leaned towards me to leave a kiss on my forehead. After he left, he religiously called me each and every night before bed, wanting me to accompany him to dreamland.

Things became even more awkward when he called me a few weeks later, drunk out of his mind. And that's when he said those three words that I now dread to hear.

"I love you. I love you so fucking much."

There it was, the three words (plus five) I always wanted him to say to me. Three years too late. Words that would have made me so excited and happy, now only causing nervousness and awkwardness. He wished he had told me sooner, because now it's too late for us, for him.

And he's right.

For me, it's too late for him.