When my ex broke up with me, it came approximately a month after he'd reconnected with an old friend.
Not just any friend.
His Girl Best Friend.
They'd had a falling out a couple of years prior, and hadn't spoken since then. But when COVID struck, she reached out.
His buzzing phone woke me up at 3am. I nudged him awake, he looked at the screen, leapt out of bed and left the room. I didn't think much of it, other than to hope everything was okay. A 3am call wasn't normal — but then, nothing in lockdown was normal.
He came back to the room, told me it it was "that girl" he'd told me about, who he hadn't heard from in years. He recounted their conversation — she was going through a hard time (ahem, weren't we all?). He apologised, told me he loved me (for the first time, actually), and we went back to sleep.
Naively, I thought that was that.
They spoke the next day, and the next. He told me every time she would message. And she messaged… a lot. I didn't mind though, not at first. I trusted him. (Or maybe I was so desperately trying to be the cool girl that I simply convinced myself I didn't care.)
It did feel like it was getting a bit excessive — she was messaging him daily, and as much as I didn't want to be the kind of person to ask my partner not to have a close friend of the opposite sex, it did start to irk me. So, like mature adults in a healthy relationship, we spoke about it.
He seemed surprised that I was upset, but didn't hesitate to reassure me.
"I haven't spoken to her in years; I don't have to keep speaking to her," he said with a shrug. "I don't care if we don't pick the friendship back up. I don't ever want to do anything that would hurt or upset you."