Is Having a Boyfriend Embarrassing Now?

Good morning, everyone!!! Happy Tuesday! I'm in the process of completing my final portfolio for my creative writing course and wanted to share some of those pieces on here. This story is partially inspired by the viral Vogue article Is Having a Boyfriend Embarrassing Now? by Chanté Joseph and my own experiences. It wasn't my intention at first, but it ended up being very cathartic. Hope you enjoy!

Is Having a Boyfriend Embarrassing Now?

(Based on Is Having a Boyfriend Embarrassing Now? by Chanté Joseph)

Shame. 

Burning, pinching, suffocating shame.

Even though I told Lauren not to bring him, she insisted.

“Oh come on, Michaela! You won't even notice that he’s there.”

After getting kicked out of our favorite restaurant, it’s pretty hard to miss the red-faced man screaming as he’s escorted out of the establishment. 

He’d ordered a rare steak and when it came out just as he’d ordered it, he started throwing a tantrum. Shouting “I’m paying $20 for fucking trash” and “we shouldn’t have come here”.

When the chef came out to confront him, he got all up in his face, shouting threats and curses.

I stood next to Lauren, shivering, as she tried to calm her boyfriend down. Speaking in soft tones as if he were a toddler and not thirty fucking years old. 

Fuck this.

I pulled my jacket tighter around my shoulders and started walking in the opposite direction. She could deal with this herself.

Frustration and hunger gnawed at me. We didn't even get to start eating. 

Before him, Lauren was completely different. Bright, bubbly, and optimistic with her own apartment. She worked at ESPN for god’s sake. 

Now? She’s a glorified babysitter for a guy who can’t tell her why he’s upset. 

Romance is a beautiful, magical thing. I’ve been lucky enough to experience it, and I love when my friends do too. 

But still. My standards are too high to allow anyone—especially a man—to ruin my peace. That’s what roses are for.

Before I knew it, my feet had carried me to Faccia Luna’s. As I stepped inside, the warm scent of freshly baked dough and sweet tomatoes engulfed me. More relaxed, I placed my order and took a seat in a booth towards the back. Despite myself, my thoughts drifted back to Lauren.

We’ve been intertwined since birth. Playdates every Saturday and soccer during the week. Even when college put a whole ocean between us, we sent birthday gifts, care packages, and the occasional surprise visit.

The first time she called me with news of a new beau, she was…different. At the time, I just brushed it off as happiness but now I see it for what it really is. 

Exhaustion.

Sometimes she’d call me sobbing so hard I couldn’t understand what she was saying. That he had flirted with another woman, made fun of her eyes, or called her a “whale”. And every time, I gave the same response.

“Love, you don’t deserve this.”

“Obviously he doesn’t appreciate you.”

“What an asshole! He’s lucky I don’t own a gun.”

I wanted, no, needed her to leave that man.

And the next morning, she’d text me a picture of the new bouquet he’d buy as an apology, my words falling on deaf ears.

After one of their worst arguments, I sat on FaceTime with her.

“Why him? He makes you so miserable, I just…I just don’t get why you haven’t left him.”

Dabbing her eyes with a tissue, she murmured, “Honestly? I don’t know why I stay. He feels familiar. Sure, he can be a jerk sometimes but it’s cause he cares. The yelling…it’s just how he shows he loves me. And I can’t just give up on that. I’ve gotta fight for him.”

I turned my attention to the window. Snow had begun to fall gently outside, coating everything in a soft layer of white. I smiled, remembering how Lauren and I would build families of snowmen in our youth.

My pizza came soon after, and I tried to enjoy my food. My throat tightened as tears pricked my eyes, blurring my vision. It was delicious, but each bite felt like I was swallowing sandpaper. The twinkle of the Christmas lights and soft instrumentals of beloved carols a cheery contrast to my current mood.

She would’ve loved this.

My phone buzzed violently with a deluge of new messages.

It was Lauren.

Omg Michaela, where are you?

I’m so so sorry ):

Please gimme a call.

My thumb hovered over the call button, hesitant to respond. Again and again, she has constantly put her all-consuming love for her boyfriend above me. Why should I keep picking up the pieces to the mess she helps make? But despite everything, I pressed the button and swallowed all my anger, disappointment, and sadness.

“Hey love, what do you need?”

XOXO, Michaela