My fiancee said it best:
That finale was a big “FUCK YOU” to everyone who watched the show faithfully for 9 years. However, there are a few things I called/enjoyed:
-Barney/Robin not working
-The mom’s name was Tracy (reference season 1)
-The mother’s death
-Cramming too much into too little of a time
And now the rant:
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING?!?!?! You waste a whole season…the FINAL season on a wedding just to break it up 15 minutes into the final episode?! WHY?!?! That was my biggest issue. This finale could have easily spanned 8 episodes. But NO. Robin ending up with Ted in the last two minutes is like: WHAT?! REALLY?!?! I mean, I understand but again - too much in too short of a time. I feel like so much character development is lost and time wasted. Not enough about the mother even though the show is called: “How I Met Your Mother.” More like: “I went through a lot of shit and ended up with Aunt Robin anyway.”
The only plus: It sure as hell came out of nowhere! The fandom has no idea what to do with themselves. Me neither. My sister is going to watch the finale tomorrow with me. I have no idea how she is gonna react.
I’m kinda scared.
I’m not sure which is worse: the end of a relationship or of a close friendship. To most, it’s the relationship. To be single is a scary thing, especially in a world that focuses so much on love and happiness, which it appears that, the two cannot co-exist without each other. Your spouse is supposed to be your “best friend.” Then why does a best friend exist outside of a relationship? Maybe it’s because love can come many shapes and forms. I know who I am marrying, that’s for sure. I have a best friend and up until this past weekend, I honestly believed that I held that title for someone else. Those walls came crashing down and I’ll never be sure how or if rebuilding is even possible.
So what does it mean to be called a “best friend?” Is it how often you see each other? The interests that you share? Amount of Good times? Or is it the level of sacrifice that you make to see that person smile? Sounds a lot like a relationship to me. Maybe it is or maybe it isn’t. But all I know for certainty is that it hurts just as much to end.
“I wish that I could just tell you to go fuck yourself and be done with you.”
I knew that in my heart that those words were the projection of anger from her. As a friend, you can be the best target when their love life is in turmoil. It isn’t fair, I know. Can I say that I have never done it? No, and I’m not proud of it. I don’t think anyone would be. People don’t deserve to be targets for anger that cannot be confronted. My friend had this known habit so I wasn’t sure why it hurt so much this time. He had always had a bad relationship since I had known him. If it wasn’t the overly attached, borderline serial stalker, it was the too young, thought she “had her life planned out and wanted it now” princess. But then again, being part of a friendship is supporting their choices no matter how much grief is caused.
"You do see me here physically in front of you, right?! Doesn’t that fuckin’ matter?"
But after a while, that support starts to dwindle. I didn’t have to be the one in the relationship (although I felt as if I were at times due to the amount of detail I knew and the few interactions that I had been a part of) to feel its virus spreading throughout its host and infecting all of the unsuspecting people it came into contact with. You can physically be with someone and somewhere else completely mentally. When that mentality was calling the shots, I wish that he had just stayed home. I’d wish that he could get off the hook and see his true worth and what he deserved. To see who she really was.
He chose the abuse. I chose to listen and offer my help. He chose to take it out on me.
When people asked about the weekend or how he enjoyed it, I changed the conversation as quickly as it started. It’s not the words I feared, it was the tears that came along with them. No one could truly understand. I wanted to see him again. A call. A text. Something to show me that “best friend” wasn’t a title that I was labeled with when she was too much to handle. Maybe everything I had done or put up with meant nothing. I was that toy that sat in the corner and smiled at you, day after day. I was easily ignored and pushed aside for new toys, even if they were broken or dangerous. But when that toy cut you, I was always there to make it better. Always had been.
We hadn’t spoken in almost a week. No call. No text. But then again, that is what I promised him on my part.
I’d lost track of the amount of tears I cried. Never for very long. Maybe I had hope inside me? Hope that he’d see that I had been serious. Hope that we could still be friends but based on how it was going so far… that candle was slowly dying.
Specifics would be a nice change of pace. We knew that after he moved away our visits would be far and few between. That’s why we planned one last weekend jam-packed with fun activities. Nothing goes as planned. I can’t say that there were not fun times but I can say that they were interrupted. She was mad. She didn’t want him there with friends, especially me. She hated me.
In her words: “No girl wants a boyfriend whose best friend is a girl who is cute.”
Something I have still yet to understand. Apparently the ring on my left hand meant nothing or that she had met my fiancée. Her constant abandonment of him was acceptable. The look in her eyes that said she could care less about his effort, just as long as he was on the hook. I never could keep my mouth shut when it came to my friends being abused by the person that “loved them” (despite my best efforts). Sometimes it was well received and appreciated. Others may as well have painted a bull’s eye on my back.
"Are promises to me not important anymore?" I asked. Not only was I the target of her redirected anger; I was being abandoned just to try and sooth that anger temporarily. He would be leaving early despite my plea. The last few definitive days we planned crumbled before me and I was to blame for wanting them to last and "go my way" (or so he says). The others who were there tried to comfort me but it is the last thing I wanted. I just wanted to wake up and be alright. It is a dreamer’s job after all.
The argument lasted what seemed like forever. Wandering eyes of the mall passed us in judgment of the small girl crying as a bigger man yelled at her. It most likely looked like an ugly break up. In a way, it was. I couldn’t even retort. He knew that I backed down when I was sworn at in anger, helplessness controlling my every nerve.
This was all because of her.
This was all because of me.
No matter how much pain and anger boiled in my stomach, it was being overshadowed by the love of friendship and desire to ease his pain. As the fires of the argument began to die (temporarily reignited due to her angry phone call in the middle), we embraced for what felt like forever. Although extended embraces were not uncommon for us under various circumstances, this one was the hardest to pull away from.
He wanted his relationship to work.
She was what he wanted.
I was the reason she was angry.
As I slowly moved back from the man who called me his “best friend” and uttered sentences that sting even now: “After tomorrow, I’m not going to reach out to you anymore. She’s what you want and I can’t bear to see her treat you like this because you are hanging out with me and it will never change. It may kill me inside but it’s a best friend’s duty.”
Not much was said after that. He fell asleep. I sat up and attempted to chat in between tears to a friend who had experienced most of it. It was nearly 4 am before I was able to sleep. The hours passed like seconds as his alarm went off, signaling his departure. The others were un-phased by the noise but it was drowning out every other sound in my head. And then I felt a hand on my shoulder. He wanted to show me that he was wearing and loved the hat that I had given him as a souvenir of the weekend. I forced a smile. I had no choice. He wanted me to walk with him to the train. Who was I deny a last request? He knew that I had meant what I had said the night before. Was he trying to change my mind? Or was it a final send off?
The last walk with a friend is only comparable to a dead man walking to the lethal injection. The torture of knowing that the end was coming with every sleep you took. My torture was his words. He was smiling and thanking me for the weekend, short as it may have been. He told me that he loved his hat. He then proceeded to ask me about my whereabouts at 3am, confusing me more than the fact that he was currently holding my hand. He had turned over in his sleep and he saw my space on the floor was empty. No matter how much I pushed that I was fine and just talked with someone, it wasn’t the answer he wanted.
Did our fight last night not happen?
Holding my hand. Telling me how cute I was. Poking at my cheeks and tickling my chin and ears. This hurt even more. I’m still not sure if he was trying to fix us. He wanted to know what I had talked about. Shouldn’t he have already known? He was trying to take care of me but it all seemed backwards. All that came to mind was a time where he had been sick and I was the only other person home.
Tucking him in.
Walking to get the medicine.
Feeding and helping in any way possible.
Maybe I am an idiot. Actually… I’m almost certain of it. Only an idiot tries so hard to make someone smile, no matter how they act in return. That’s what friends do. Being a friend means being an idiot. We stood at the top of the stairs that led to the train, the end of our journey. He turned to me and wrapped me in his embrace.
Why is this so hard?
"I had a lot of fun. Thank you for bringing me. I wish it could have been longer."
Why are you making it so hard?
He leaned down and kissed me on the cheek like he always had. The next words put my heart in a vice: “I love you.” Nothing escaped my mouth. These were words he had said to me before. They were the last words I wanted to hear now. But I am who I am. I wanted him to keep smiling. I forced my cheekbones high and replied: “I love you too.” He asked for a kiss on the cheek. I granted it to him. He kissed mine again and promised to text me. Every word tightened that vice. I watched as he descended those steps and through that door. I could no longer see him.
Because the vice loosened and I sat to cry.
So why am I writing all of this? It’s not to trash his name for those of you who know him. It’s not for sympathy, I knew what I was getting into and how it would most likely go. It could be to vent but if so, this seems too mild mannered. I still think about him. I still hope for a text or a call. I still wear the necklace that he gave me. None of that matters. Fate has thrown the ball back in my court. That was supposed to be the last time unless he chose otherwise. It’s what’s best for him. I still held on to a few small things and my memories. He had moved away.
But fluid never went into the vein.
His transfer hasn’t gone through yet.
I work with him tomorrow night.
The lethal injection may have just gotten rescheduled.
My and the fiancee’s cosplays from Anime Boston! If you have pics of us, please share!
chadepik asked: why you no follow me
I could have sworn that I did. My bad :/
Sundae doing one of her many tricks.