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My "boyfriend", Martin Duncan, sent me a photo of a luxury necklace on my birthday and asked, "What do you think?" I looked at the outdated bow-shaped necklace and smiled. "It's beautiful." Before I could even thank him for the gift, he called me. His voice was sharp with disbelief. "Are you serious? My girlfriend says it's tacky as hell." That was when it hit me. The necklace wasn't for me, and I wasn't his girlfriend. The hickeys he'd left on my neck the night before were still there, and in that moment, I felt like the punchline to a joke I didn't know I was in. I blurted out, "Wait, are you serious? Since when do you have a girlfriend?" "Of course, I'm serious," Martin said casually. "Took me ages to get her." I couldn't help but ask, "Then what am I to you?" He paused, then laughed. "You're my best buddy. Honestly, it's about time you found a nice guy and got married." I did exactly what he suggested. I started going on blind dates, and that was when his composure finally cracked.