I’ve always believed I had a keen eye for reading people. I wasn’t the type to be easily fooled, nor would I ever hand my heart over to someone undeserving.
Then came Jason. Jason Matthews. Tall, handsome, naturally charming without even trying. He had this rare ability to make you feel like the most important person in the room—especially when he was around.
Our paths crossed during my sophoore year at university. There was an effortless confidence in him, a magnetic appeal, paired with a knack for making you feel like he’d known you forever. For a while, everything appeared flawless.
He would ask about my day, compliment my style, and recall tiny details no one else noticed. Gradually, we spent more and more time together, and soon it became clear: we were more than just friends.
However, beneath the surface, something felt off. Jason never introduced me to his friends. Whenever we went out, he cleverly avoided running into his usual circle. Excuses for not meeting his family kept piling up—either he was overloaded with work or said “it wasn’t the right time.”
At first, I rationalized he might just be reserved. Yet, deep inside, I harbored a troubling doubt.
Then one Friday night, I caught sight of those messages. Jason’s phone lay on the sofa beside me as I scrolled through Instagram. Suddenly, it vibrated. A message popped up from an unknown contact. Initially, I paid no attention—until I glimpsed the preview.
It was a photo of her—a woman I’d never encountered—looking at him with a smile he never once gave me. The caption read:
“Can’t wait to see you tomorrow night. Counting on you to make it special. ;)”
My heart sank to my stomach. I grabbed his phone, hesitated, then opened the entire conversation. The truth hit me like a thunderbolt. Jason was seeing someone else—the real priority in his life. For months, he had been juggling between us. She was his number one choice; I was the backup, the fallback when she wasn’t available.
Blinded by his allure, I hadn’t noticed—until it almost became too late.
Though enraged, I resisted confronting him immediately, choosing instead to observe his next move. Later that night, he texted apologizing for being “busy” and asked if I wanted to have dinner. I could almost hear the rehearsed excuse behind his words.
Rather than reacting impulsively, I simply replied, “I’m busy tonight, but we can talk tomorrow.” I had a plan, and I intended to make him regret every moment he treated me like a second option.
The following day, I acted as though nothing was wrong. I let Jason believe everything was fine. When he arrived that evening, he assumed we would continue from where we left off. Sitting at the kitchen counter scrolling through my phone, I greeted him softly as he took a seat beside me and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek.
“Hey,” he said, “sorry about last night, you know how work is. But I thought—”
Before he could finish, I looked up and showed him my phone screen. “Care to explain this?”
His face turned pale upon seeing the photo. His smile faltered and then vanished completely.
“Cassidy, I…”
“Save it,” I interrupted, standing up. “I am not a backup plan, Jason. I am not your second choice. And I refuse to sit here waiting in the shadows while you hold out for something ‘better.’”
Jason stood, clearly shaken. “Cassidy, it’s not what you think. I never wanted to hurt you—”
“Don’t lie to me,” I snapped coldly. “You played both sides, thinking I wouldn’t notice. Well, now you’re about to discover what happens when you treat people like disposable objects.”
He began stammering, but I no longer cared for his excuses. I reached the door, opened it, and motioned for him to leave.
“You’re right,” I said firmly, “this wasn’t a relationship meant for you. It was a game. But guess what, Jason? I’m done playing.”
One week passed with Jason sending message after message, eager to explain himself. Yet, I never responded. I owed him nothing. He was no prince charming; he was a liar, and I was finished with him.
Soon after, I received a message from her.
“Hi, I’m Sarah. I thought you should know—Jason is already seeing someone else. He mentioned you, but I had no idea he was playing on multiple fronts. I’m really sorry.”
It felt like the universe handed me the final puzzle piece—I didn’t need it, but I accepted it nonetheless. I smiled at my phone, a bittersweet satisfaction washing over me.
Jason wasn’t just losing me. He was losing everything.
Lessons Learned:
- Some individuals presume they can treat others as mere backup options—filling a void until “the right person” arrives.
- The truth is, nobody deserves being your Plan B.
- You are worth far more than the scraps thrown your way when someone else’s “first choice” falters.
- When you refuse to abide by their rules and instead live by your own, they finally grasp the magnitude of what they have squandered.
Jason discovered that harsh truth—at his own expense.
In conclusion, recognizing one’s value and standing firm against mistreatment empowers an individual to reclaim control. No one should settle as a secondary option. Only when we set boundaries do others realize the true cost of their actions.