Confessions Of An Insecure Girlfriend | POPxo

Confessions Of An Insecure Girlfriend

Confessions Of An Insecure Girlfriend
I regret that day. That day I went through his phone. I really don’t know what came over me. Whether it was the alcohol that I had consumed on that night out with my friends or if it was the curiosity that was building up inside me as I saw his phone constantly flash as he lay asleep next to me. I don’t know what it was.

I’ve always been a very, very relaxed person. A very chilled out girl, as my friends would say. Never a care in the world - just going about my own life and letting others live theirs. Even the guys that I had dated before would agree with that. I just didn’t believe in ever meddling with or interfering in anyone else’s life. But all of that changed, just like that - overnight.

Whatever it was that had taken over me, it made me check his phone. I hesitated for a good half an hour to be honest. Picking it up and then putting it back down. I had never done anything of this sort before - snooping around like this just wasn’t me. But I eventually went ahead anyway.  

I opened his phone and went straight in for his whatsapp messages. My stomach was already feeling knotted up and I was more nervous than I had ever been before. What was I going to find here? Nothing, I was hoping.

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But obviously, nothing was not what I found. Before you get any ideas, no, he wasn’t cheating. He hadn’t been meeting anyone behind my back or been sending lovey dovey messages to another girl. But it was something else that to me, was equally hurtful and disrespectful. I don’t know what to call it really - but he was somewhere in between making fun of and having a full on bitching session about me with not one but four friends. Sorry, girl friends.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. I thought my boyfriend loved me. I thought that he asked me to hang out with his friends when he did, because they liked me too. I thought he was loyal and honest to me and that he would never belittle me or make a joke out of me simply to start or keep a conversation going with other girls. And I stress on other “girls” because to his guy friends, he was saying perfectly nice things about me. I just couldn’t understand. Did he want these girls to think that he was interested in them and not so much in me? That he really wasn’t so serious about his girlfriend of two years…so it didn’t matter what he said about her?

In my shock and dismay I quickly shut his phone. I honestly couldn’t bear to read anymore. I was heartbroken. I didn’t know what to do. I needed to talk to him right away - but he was asleep. And I let him be, because honestly, I didn’t even know what to say. I’d had such immense faith in him, in our relationship, that I was still finding hard to believe what I had seen.

Was I not good enough? Had I been doing something wrong all along? Was I really that bad? Was he so unhappy with me? I tried to sleep, but these questions flooded my head. There he was, sleeping right next to me. This person I loved so much. How could he think so negatively about me? Did he really?

Also read: Confessions Of A Not-So-Girly Girlfriend

I fell asleep with these thoughts still flooding my mind and woke up in a couple hours to find him still fast asleep. I couldn’t resist any longer, so I woke him up.

“I went through your phone,” I said to a very groggy Rohan.

“What?” he said.

“I went through your phone. And before you say anything else, I know that we said that we wouldn’t be that couple. That we wouldn’t doubt each other or snoop around. But I can never say those words again. I can never trust you again. I didn’t know you were this unhappy with me, Ro.”

“What have you seen? What are you saying?” he said frantically.

I told him all the horrible things I had read. All those mean things he said about me to those girls. All the laughs he had at my expense.

He looked like a snake had bitten him. He went pale and ran out of words. I could see how bad he was feeling. But I didn’t care, because I was feeling worse.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean a single word. You’ve got to believe me. It was all just silly random stuff. I didn’t even think about it when I said it. I wasn’t saying it seriously. Please you have to believe me.”

I didn’t believe him. But after a few weeks of him apologizing, I did let it go. Or so I thought.

I’m still with him, but the things I read on his phone almost four months ago still haunt me sometimes. All the efforts he makes, all the sweet things he says and does now are always outlined with the bitter aftertaste of his words. Every time he goes out with his friends and doesn’t answer my call, my heart stops beating. My dreams have turned into nightmares about him cheating on me. I hate those girls, his friends, who even I was friendly with once upon a time. He talks to them still, of course, and meets them too - because they are his good friends - and I just die a little inside, each time.

I’ve turned into an insecure person that I myself don’t quite recognise. I doubt everything. I don’t believe a thing he says. I very seriously have considered spying on him, for god’s sake! He shattered my confidence with a few simple text messages. And I still love him. How?

I don’t know if agreeing to still be with him after all that was the right thing to do. But love is a powerful thing. Yes, he hurt me, more than anyone else ever can. But he also makes me happy in a way that no one else can - and maybe I’m not ready to let go of that just yet.

Also read: Confessions Of An Overly Attached Girlfriend

I sometimes feel guilty about giving him hell about the things I told him I had forgiven. But if I must be honest - I don’t think I can ever forgive that. I can’t even forget it. Those words bruised my ego in a way that might be irreparable. I chide myself often for not just leaving him if I feel so bad - but I can’t. Maybe I’m not strong enough yet. I don’t know what it is or why. But I’m hoping that I either find the strength to walk away from something that weakens me every day or make my peace with it.

* Names changed to protect privacy.

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