the surprising pangs of platonic jealousy

i have an ex, my most recent, who i experienced (and continue to experience) one of the stranger forms of jealousy i’ve had to navigate in adult life — jealousy over his friend group.

he would send me photos (we were long distance) of various get-togethers, and my heart would drop at the sight of delightfully joyous photos of his friends. at a park, on vacation, having a dinner party. it was fucking savage, honestly.

i’m sure this reaction was exacerbated by the fact that the past 18 months have been some of the loneliest and most isolated of my life.

but goddamn, what i would do for an adult friend group.

i think about the ways people achieve such things in adulthood, the activities that bring people together and facilitate bonding, and i ultimately come up blank as to how to make this formula work in my current life residing in rural america. (meetup isn’t really a thing here)

and so instead, i feign happiness at his collective blessing until i have the space to wallow in self-pity over my own desires for camaraderie.

i’m currently in a geographical situation where i am literally friendless, and although this is often hard and at times heartbreaking (have i mentioned i feel bad for myself?), it’s really the friend group (not just the friend) that i’m lusting after. it feels almost like a mythical entity in adulthood, to not just have a group of people who mutually enjoy each other, but to have the capacity and willingness to nurture lasting connection amongst them.

so instead, i have to find friends in other places. and i shit you not, in full hippie glory, i am learning how to find companionship with my non-human buddies: the tree in my backyard, my cats, the birds overhead, the wind. i talk to them, and although i’m not so sure how often they listen, it helps.

but let me tell you — i’m sure as hell not going to get that glossy group photo i’m fiending so hard for, and i’m def salty.

[written months ago but publishing now cause fuck it]

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