young_slayer
Iron
- Joined
- Aug 11, 2024
- Posts
- 111
- Reputation
- 95
I’m not sure why I even bother anymore. The pattern’s always the same. It doesn’t matter what I do, how much I try to improve myself, or how kind I am. In the end, it’s always the same outcome: I’m left alone, watching as she chooses him. The Chad. The tall, handsome, confident guy who doesn’t even have to try. It’s like a cruel joke the universe loves to play on me.
I’m average, at best. Maybe even below average. At 5'4", I’m short—too short for most women to even notice me. My face isn’t much better; awkward features, a weak jawline, and my hair’s receding faster than I can manage. My clothes are ill-fitting, and I don’t have the swagger that comes naturally to guys like him. He’s everything I’m not: 6'2", jaw sharp enough to cut glass, eyes that make women melt when he looks at them. He walks into a room, and people move aside like the world’s parting for royalty.
And she always notices him first.
Take Sarah, for example. We’ve been friends for a while, or at least, I thought we were. We’d spend hours talking, laughing about stupid things, and I thought maybe—just maybe—she was starting to see me for who I was. I’d gotten comfortable with her. Maybe too comfortable. I thought she liked me, or at least tolerated me. But then… he showed up.
It wasn’t the first time. Every time it’s the same, but this one stung more. We were at a party, and there he was. His chiseled body looked like it belonged in a magazine, and his smile—it was like the sun had just risen. Sarah was glued to him the second he walked in, her eyes sparkling, her laugh too loud, too real. I don’t blame her, though. I could hear it. I could feel it. She was mesmerized, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
I tried to talk to her, tried to remind her that I was still here, still the guy who always had her back. But she didn’t even look at me. She didn’t even acknowledge my presence. He’d already taken her attention.
It wasn’t until later, when I was sitting on the edge of the couch, nursing a drink and pretending I wasn’t watching them, that I heard it. Their voices. She was laughing again, but this time it wasn’t just her. It was him, making all the right jokes, saying the right things. She didn’t even look back at me when I caught her eye. She had already fallen under his spell.
I felt invisible, like I wasn’t even worth noticing. Not even the effort to say "Hey, are you doing okay?" No, she was too busy. Too wrapped up in his charm.
Eventually, the night came to an end, and I was about to leave. As I grabbed my coat, I saw Sarah and Chad standing by the door, exchanging numbers. A casual gesture, a touch of the arm. They were already making plans. She didn’t even have to think about it. It was instinct for her.
I walked past them, trying not to look at her, trying not to let the bitterness show. But I knew what was going to happen. I knew that she was going to go home with him. I knew I’d be left alone again.
It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and I’m sure it wouldn’t be the last. The cycle always repeats. Women want him. They don’t want me. I’m just the guy they can talk to when they need someone to listen, but when it comes time for the real thing, when it comes time for someone to hold them, to be with them, I’m never the one.
They never choose the guy who looks like me. The one who tries so hard, who can never seem to measure up. They choose him. The one who barely tries. The one who has the looks, the height, the status. The one who doesn’t need to do anything because everything just falls into his lap.
I can’t keep doing this. Watching them fall for him, over and over. I know how it ends. It always ends the same way.
So, I left. I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t text her later. I didn’t do any of the things I used to do in a desperate attempt to stay in her life. I just walked out.
And here I am again. Alone.
Somewhere deep down, I know it’s pointless. There’s no winning in a game where the rules are stacked against me. But that doesn’t stop the ache. Doesn’t stop the resentment. Because I know—I know—that I’ll never be him. And I’ll never be good enough for anyone.
So, I’ll just fade into the background. Like I always do.
I’m average, at best. Maybe even below average. At 5'4", I’m short—too short for most women to even notice me. My face isn’t much better; awkward features, a weak jawline, and my hair’s receding faster than I can manage. My clothes are ill-fitting, and I don’t have the swagger that comes naturally to guys like him. He’s everything I’m not: 6'2", jaw sharp enough to cut glass, eyes that make women melt when he looks at them. He walks into a room, and people move aside like the world’s parting for royalty.
And she always notices him first.
Take Sarah, for example. We’ve been friends for a while, or at least, I thought we were. We’d spend hours talking, laughing about stupid things, and I thought maybe—just maybe—she was starting to see me for who I was. I’d gotten comfortable with her. Maybe too comfortable. I thought she liked me, or at least tolerated me. But then… he showed up.
It wasn’t the first time. Every time it’s the same, but this one stung more. We were at a party, and there he was. His chiseled body looked like it belonged in a magazine, and his smile—it was like the sun had just risen. Sarah was glued to him the second he walked in, her eyes sparkling, her laugh too loud, too real. I don’t blame her, though. I could hear it. I could feel it. She was mesmerized, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
I tried to talk to her, tried to remind her that I was still here, still the guy who always had her back. But she didn’t even look at me. She didn’t even acknowledge my presence. He’d already taken her attention.
It wasn’t until later, when I was sitting on the edge of the couch, nursing a drink and pretending I wasn’t watching them, that I heard it. Their voices. She was laughing again, but this time it wasn’t just her. It was him, making all the right jokes, saying the right things. She didn’t even look back at me when I caught her eye. She had already fallen under his spell.
I felt invisible, like I wasn’t even worth noticing. Not even the effort to say "Hey, are you doing okay?" No, she was too busy. Too wrapped up in his charm.
Eventually, the night came to an end, and I was about to leave. As I grabbed my coat, I saw Sarah and Chad standing by the door, exchanging numbers. A casual gesture, a touch of the arm. They were already making plans. She didn’t even have to think about it. It was instinct for her.
I walked past them, trying not to look at her, trying not to let the bitterness show. But I knew what was going to happen. I knew that she was going to go home with him. I knew I’d be left alone again.
It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and I’m sure it wouldn’t be the last. The cycle always repeats. Women want him. They don’t want me. I’m just the guy they can talk to when they need someone to listen, but when it comes time for the real thing, when it comes time for someone to hold them, to be with them, I’m never the one.
They never choose the guy who looks like me. The one who tries so hard, who can never seem to measure up. They choose him. The one who barely tries. The one who has the looks, the height, the status. The one who doesn’t need to do anything because everything just falls into his lap.
I can’t keep doing this. Watching them fall for him, over and over. I know how it ends. It always ends the same way.
So, I left. I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t text her later. I didn’t do any of the things I used to do in a desperate attempt to stay in her life. I just walked out.
And here I am again. Alone.
Somewhere deep down, I know it’s pointless. There’s no winning in a game where the rules are stacked against me. But that doesn’t stop the ache. Doesn’t stop the resentment. Because I know—I know—that I’ll never be him. And I’ll never be good enough for anyone.
So, I’ll just fade into the background. Like I always do.
