The Millstone

Okay, ladies. I've been talking to a lot of us recently, and reading a lot of our blogs, and going through this myself, so I thought I'd dedicate a post to it.

We've had discussions of the Pseudo-Boyfriend. We've had discussions of the "Just Friend." The Mr. Right Now. I propose another category of male friendship/relationship: The Millstone.

This is the guy who's a step beyond the Pseudo-Boyfriend. This is the guy who keeps you around for inexplicable purposes, one of which is to tell you all about his current crushes, and this is the guy for whom you're "holding out."

If he'd just wake up, we say. Some day he's going to come to his senses and realize that I'm amazing and wonderful and perfect for him. If I can just hang on and try to sway him with my friendship and unswerving support and devotion, I'll outlast all his little fancies for those other [hot][skinny][shallow][vapid][expensively dressed] girls and he'll just HAVE to be with me.

So we linger after him. We take all of his calls. We have frequent late-night conversations where we pretend to be supportive of his newest relationship while inwardly we're gritting our teeth and trying not to cry, Not again! We exist on the hope that he'll break up with his girlfriend someday.

Why? Because, as my current boss puts it, we feel the magic. The times with him are so good. So wholesome and fulfilling. His conversations are interesting. He covets our company. He's jealous when we think about dating someone else. He likes to keep us to himself. He likes to spend time alone with us. Deep down under his current relationship with some other girl, he really loves and cares about us, we just know it -- it's there in every intonation he utters and every little caress he dishes out -- and we're sure it's going to work out.

And we know him so well. We know the contents of his refrigerator. We know the way he scratches his ankles or rubs the back of his neck when he's stressed. We know his schedule and his social calendar (even if we don't often appear on them), we know his favorite phrases and verbal foibles, his stories and jokes, the food he hates, his shoe size. We can remind him of his various responsibilities which he might forget. We know every little detail of his past and present relationships. Not only do we know his birthday, we know his girlfriend's too. When he's bored, stressed, sick, or upset, we're right there to encourage and comfort him. We're the first person he calls when something awful happens. We know exactly how he reacts to every situation, and we know how to respond to him when he's happy, sad, angry, lonely, heartbroken, or indifferent. We know his aspirations and fears, his dreams and doubts. We can pick out the perfect birthday, Christmas, or no-reason gift for him. We're intimate with his family history, know about all of his sports accidents and scars, are familiar with his finances, and keep close track of all his hobbies. We delight in making sacrifices for him. We give, and give, and give.

We're his mother.

I had a wake-up call this past week, and I've spent some time pondering carefully. I have a guy whom up till now I would have categorized as a close friend, and who has told me repeatedly that I'm one of his best friends and how much he loves me. But the problem is, he's never interested in me as more than that. And, a wise man told me point blank last week, he never will be.

"Sarah, if in two weeks he's still whining about another girl, and if in a month of hanging out with you you're not the only flower in his garden, he doesn't love you and he never will. And even if you do catch him, he won't be faithful," said my boss.

He also said that I need to be with a guy to whom I am a queen in his eyes, because that's the only way I'll be satisfied, and because I deserve it. He said that it won't take much time, if the magic is there on both sides. Not much time at all. But if the magic is only one-sided, nothing will ever happen, or satisfy me if it does.

And he's right. It was a rather evening-crippling blow, but after facing the realization, I thought, yes. There's no reason to hold out any longer (and it's been six months. Half a year of agonizing, waiting, praying, hoping). I'm never going to get what I want from this guy. I can't pretend to be satisfied with his friendship (which can be pretty crappy, to be honest. I've given far more than I've gotten, and there comes a point where you can't attribute it to his going through a rough time).

So why is this kind of man a Millstone? Because while we're hanging onto him, we can't imagine being with anyone else. He's the only flower in OUR garden. We try dating a different guy here and there, but we're just not interested. And there's the real risk that if Mr. Amazing walks into our lives while we're dangling after the Millstone, we won't notice him. Our hearts are tied up. Or, even worse, Mr. Amazing will think we're dating the Millstone, since we go everywhere with him and spend so much time with him, and Mr. Amazing will never even bother to ask us out, because he thinks we're already officially taken. And so the Millstone hangs around the necks of our future relationships with guys who WILL notice us and treat us well.

And why do most of us have, at some point in our lives, a Millstone? I think because we're getting older. We're tired of being single. The garden is pretty much dead or hibernating under a blanket of snow. And here is someone who appears to care about us and covet our time. He's company. We feel the magic when we're around him. We love his compliments, his touches, his smile. Time spent with him is charged with a richness that time spent without him lacks. But in the end, we're nothing to him. He's Just Not That Into Us. We're something to fill an empty evening, or assuage a damaged ego, or distract from girlfriend troubles. He loves our steadiness and constancy and excellent advice and sympathy, but he uses it. Somewhere deep down he knows we love him THAT WAY, and it makes him feel good about himself and he wants to keep us around, but he'll never reciprocate.

And it's hard, so hard, to stand up straight and cut the cords of the Millstone from around our necks. It's difficult to carry, but it's comforting too. We don't want to lose him, or face the possibility (the reality) that he's not The One. But at some point, if we're to retain our sanity and belief in our own worth, it has to be done.

We can throw the Millstone into the sea without being attached to it. Sure, our muscles will ache afterward from heaving the weight -- we might even tear a muscle or two -- but the soreness will ease, and in the end we'll be free. Free to maintain our integrity and self-worth, and free to meet Mr. Right when he finally does come along.