Author: Marissa Kane
Date: April 27, 2025

I guess deep down, I always knew he wasn’t really proud to be seen with me.
We had this casual thing — friends with benefits, if you could even call it “friends.” In private, he was all over me, wanting every bit of attention and intimacy. Behind closed doors, I was good enough to touch, to kiss, to use. But the second the idea of being out together in public came up? Suddenly, I was invisible.

I’d text him suggesting we grab a coffee, maybe catch a movie like two normal people — and he would leave me on read. Or sometimes he’d reply hours later with some excuse about being “busy” or “tired.” But never too busy to hit me up late at night when he was feeling lonely or horny.

It made me feel so small. Like I was some dirty secret he needed to keep hidden. Like I should just be grateful for the scraps of attention he tossed my way when no one else was looking.

And what kills me is that I let it happen. I kept showing up. Kept convincing myself it didn’t matter, that I was okay with it being just physical, no strings attached. I told myself I didn’t need more. But the truth is, a part of me did want more. Not necessarily a relationship, but at least to be treated like a human being, not a convenience.

There were moments after we were together where I would lie there, listening to the silence, feeling emptier than before we even met up. Moments when I’d look at my phone and realize he’d already disappeared again, not even a simple “goodnight.”

It’s such a horrible, hollow feeling — giving someone your body but never being seen. Never being chosen.

I don’t know why I’m writing this now, maybe just to get it out of me. Maybe because somewhere deep inside I still want to believe that I deserve better than to be someone’s secret. Someone’s backup plan.

I’m trying to move on from it. Trying to remind myself that intimacy should never feel like shame. That being wanted behind closed doors but rejected in daylight is not love, or even respect.

It’s hard. It hurts. But little by little, I’m learning to choose myself instead.