The second my car door shuts, I break the silence between us. “So do your friends just have some sort of vendetta against me that I’m not aware of? Do I need to be writing apology letters?”

My tone is partially sarcastic, but also a little annoyed. Maybe even a bit worried, if you squint.

We just left a nice casual dinner at a restaurant near your place, and tonight was the first time I was meeting majority of your friend group. I was originally quite excited. I’ve heard how much you talk about them, the funny stories, some inside jokes, so I was very interested to meet these people that you’re so close with. Whoever’s a friend of yours is a friend of mine, right?

Well, I was apparently pretty fucking wrong.

It felt like the entire dinner I was being asked pointed questions or hearing snide comments made on my behalf. The first few I thought I was just paranoid, but as the dinner went on, I quickly grew suspicious of their behavior. If we were with anyone else, I would’ve defended myself, but I didn’t want to be a dick to your friends. I figured you would just defend me, anyways.

Yet another thing I was wrong about. Imagine that!

We’ve only been dating for about three months, but I warned you very early on that the media views me as some sort of playboy ever since my time in the band. You’ve done an excellent job of ignoring the articles and hate comments, at least as far as I know, so I figured we were all good.

Contrary to what my reputation may say, I’m actually very committed to this relationship with you. You’re not really in the spotlight, since you work as a fashion blogger for a mid-scale magazine, and just being with you makes me feel normal again. I don’t feel like a circus animal anymore. You’ve brought me out of a slump I didn’t even realize I was in.

However, now I’m nervous.

Hearing your friends pretty much say they don’t trust me because of what the media says? That stung. I know how much you trust their opinion, and it wasn’t at all reassuring to see you just change subjects instead of even slightly defending me.

I makes me worry that everything is finally getting into your head, and it’s gonna tear us apart.