My first "real love" relationship was a long distance situation, and it did not end well.
We were together for 2 years. I was 16-18 at the time. He lived in Rhode Island, and me in Washington. Everything seemed great until the very end when he was making plans to move here.
The semi condensed version: My best friend at the time knew we were having a hard time figuring out how to get him here so he could be with me and start his life on this coast. She had a spare room in her place for him to crash in while he was looking for work. She was my best friend (OH and, here is another kicker, she was MARRIED at the time) and I had absolutely no reason not to trust her and I wanted him here so badly. I was so happy and so excited that there was actually a way for him to come here to be with me. I thought she was amazing for offering her home so we could do it, and I told her this and showered her in thanks all the time once it was decided.
All that changed as soon as he arrived. They were over the top flirting and literally all over each other. She would sit in his lap right in front of me.
I was enraged when he broke up with me officially, over the phone. It's a good thing for his sake (and mine...getting arrested sucks I'm sure) he did because I might have actually throttled him and her for betraying me the way that they both did if he had done it in person. He had already cheated on me with her, then broke up with me. I remember a lot of screaming at him and throwing an alarm clock into a window wishing it was his head. The rest is kind of hazy.
The very same "friend" later contacted me after her father shot himself. She was understandably distraught about it, but it happened literally the week after all that shit went down and I no longer gave a shit. I told her to call someone else and hung up on her. Her and my ex basically labeled me a psycho bitch for that and she started telling people that I was glad her dad shot himself because I wouldn't give her the emotional support she wanted. I still honestly don't give a shit, other than thinking it sucks that someone killed themselves. She burnt that bridge so hard there was just no going back to me caring about anything that happened to her. I just wasn't capable. Looking back on it now, I feel sorry for her. She fucked herself out of the one friend she wanted to be there for her when her life hit some really shitty times, but that friendship was destroyed and she did it to herself. I feel no guilt for my response to that situation at all.
I have some trauma from that as you can imagine. Trust issues specifically. I'm jealous anyway as it is, it's my nature to be that way although I'm good at not acting on the jealousy. But I must say, that the idea of introducing my SO to any of my female friends makes me shudder and my lips curl a bit now thanks to her and him.
All that relationship really taught me is that the people you least expect it from can tell you anything they think you want to hear if it will help them further their own agendas, and then stab you in the back when it's most convenient for them to do so. Sometimes I don't think I could ever be surprised by anything anymore.
