Is Being A Velcro Girlfriend Unhealthy For Relationships?

My boyfriend's "best female friend" was angry again. Why? Because for our five-year anniversary, he got a gift just for me—and forgot about hers. Simone Baker threw a complete fit, sobbing and making a huge scene. Scott Tanner immediately blocked me and removed me on Instagram, then changed our matching couple profile pictures. "Girls can be so dramatic," he said. "Once I've calmed her down, we'll switch them back." I reminded him, "That makes a hundred times now." He just smiled and gave me a quick kiss. "I know. I'll make it fast this time." That night, Simone posted a status update: [Your effort was acceptable. You get three days of freedom.] Almost immediately, Scott unblocked me. [Okay, babe. We can put our couple pictures back now.] But then a male account—using my half of the matching photo—sent him a friend request, followed by a single question mark. [Since when are couple photos a group project?]

I suffered from severe skin hunger syndrome. Every waking moment, I wanted to cling to Charles Hansen. At night, I craved his touch even more obsessively. In Oakhaven's social circle, everyone knew me as the clingy, brainless rich wife. When I once again insisted on tagging along on Charles's business trip, a series of floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [The cannon-fodder wife is at it again. She just has to follow him and ruin this client meeting too. The moment the male lead comes back, he finally files for divorce.] [She's unloved by both parents, emotionally unstable, and suffers from skin hunger syndrome. In the end, she develops depression and dies alone beneath a bridge.] [Good thing our heroine saves the deal and helps the male lead secure the client. This is also when he starts falling for her.] [I can't wait for the romance arc! Cold CEO x secretary is such a perfect pairing. Can this annoying side character disappear already?] I slowly looked toward Daisy Allen, the secretary waiting by the door to leave on the trip with Charles. Then, for the first time, my arms loosened from around him.

He almost never texts me first, and in person he barely says a word. In three years together, he's never remembered a single anniversary, and he's never once suggested we celebrate a holiday. But the second I message him first, he lights up, all "baby" this and "baby" that, fussing over me, coaxing me to sleep. Sometimes I'd get this strange feeling that there were two different Noahs. His explanation was that he was just bad with words face-to-face, and that texting or voice notes felt like less pressure. I kept telling myself that being together meant meeting each other halfway. He was quiet and reserved, so I'd be the one to reach out. He forgot anniversaries, so I booked the restaurant and reminded him to keep the night free. He had no time to schedule our engagement shoot, so I handled the whole thing with the studio myself. He was too busy with work to help us move, so I packed everything alone, booked the movers, and got it all done. When I was so worn out I was about to break, I'd send him a voice note, and he'd say, "I'm so sorry, baby. The lab was insane today. I couldn't be there for you, and it kills me to watch you run yourself into the ground." Hearing how guilty he sounded, all my hurt just melted away. And that's how I carried three years of this relationship on my own, running on the flawless tenderness he only ever gave me online. Until today, when I found a program on his laptop called Boyfriend Assistant. It analyzed every message I sent and generated the perfect reply, the perfect response, every single time. Cold snap? It sent: Bundle up, baby. Time of the month? It pinged an API and auto-ordered hot chocolate to my door. All those late nights he spent "working," the gentle voice notes that lulled me to sleep, every one of them was synthesized in Noah's voice. For three years, the person who'd been there for me, day and night, was never Noah at all. For three years, I'd been performing a one-woman show.

After my girlfriend returns from a month-long business trip with her first love, she notices that I've changed. She sides with him to take over my project, but I don't quit in anger. Instead, I throw myself into helping him, even drafting proposals for him. She destroys the design I worked so hard on to help him snag the year-end bonus, yet I don't try to defend myself. I take all the blame and let her punish me however she likes. Even when she goes as far as to promote him to general manager against the rules, I don't get upset. I hand over all my shares, letting her distribute them as she wishes. My girlfriend wonders why I've suddenly become so submissive, while her first love just grins smugly. "See? I told you—giving him the cold shoulder works. Once he's afraid of losing you, he'll fall in line," he says. It clicks for my girlfriend. She smiles, tells me I've been good, and offers me a promotion. Then, she unexpectedly asks me to propose. But she doesn't seem to realize that while we weren't speaking, she has already signed my resignation papers. And I've already broken up with her. From this moment on, I sever all ties with her, and we no longer have anything to do with each other.

Over the long weekend, I went on a trip with my boyfriend, Henry Dolan. The second I got in the car, I saw another girl in the back seat. Henry smiled. "This is Jenny Edgar. She was a year behind us in college. She's headed the same way, so I figured we could use the company." Jenny turned and smiled at me. "Don't worry. I won't get in your way. I just needed a ride." I swallowed hard and said nothing. At the hotel, I was about to unlock the room when Jenny rolled her suitcase in behind me. Henry acted like it was no big deal. "It doesn't make sense for her to get her own room. The three of us can share and save money. She can sleep on the couch." Jenny was already sitting on the edge of the bed, looking up at me. "I'll take the couch. I won't bother you two." I stared at Henry's calm, casual face, and my stomach turned. "Fine. You two stay here. I'll get another room."

"Fine!" I acquiescently cave in. "He better keeps his eyes off of you, or I'll poke his eyeballs out of its socket!" I grumbled exasperatedly. She just shook her head again in disbelief. It seems like it's becoming her habit soon. After a few minutes, he came back, and he barely glances to her side which made me happy. That guy is not stupid after all. I know, I am very possessive, but I'm just protecting what's mine. Whatever is mine, is mine alone, and sharing is not on my vocabulary. Deceitful Lies, Betrayal, Revenge, all in the name of Love. Will they both find their happy-ever-after?