Monday, April 3, 2017

An unrelated post - sleepless thoughts of a woman who loved your husband.

I loved him, the quirky odd fella with the accent. He came out of no where and stole me away from myself. I was not supposed to love him. It was a fling that kept going, like swinging on a swing when you can't touch the worn center of the dirt and you're just letting the momentum slow. Yet at some point you get the thrill back and miss the butterflies of the height and you decided to start swinging those feet again.

He was a ride on a swing, and I loved feeling in love with him. I loved knowing that I was going to make him smile and he was going to make me laugh, Except, he wasn't mine. He played like his feelings were the same, his love was the same but he felt nothing for me. He took me in and I felt like I was safe, loved and happy and it was the first time in my entire life that I felt so saturated with joy. I should have listened to my head, and not my heart, she knew that it was a danger zone. My head knew that he was using me up like the end of a toothpaste tube that you're forced to roll and squeeze, but it felt better to feel something than to give up the moments when I wasn't alone. 

I have never felt safe, not ever. My guard always up, sleeping closest to the door just in case, one eye open, foregoing sleep on nights, like tonight, when I'm afraid the nightmares will take over. I felt safe with him, he was like me, and he knew danger, fear and just how to protect me. Until he broke me, for his entertainment. I would love to paint him the bad guy, the villain, but we both were. My love for him was selfish, his desire for me was selfish and we should have expressed that before it all went pear shaped. We did not. Then the little broken girl who loved him cracked, felt guilty and had to confess in all of the wrong ways. 

I think I've portrayed, those around me the portrait of a strong, genuine, whole person because that's what you're supposed to be, but I'm so broken. He knew I was broken, he knew exactly how I was broken and he made it alright. Until he smashed me into pieces because he's broken too, and he had to. That's how he escapes, by breaking people like me who've glued themselves together just enough to seem alright. I needed to retaliate for that, so I shoved the cracked glass that he was off of the shelf and hoped that he'd shatter. He didn't, he bounced. I broke and he bounced and I need him to be the bad guy, but only because he won't apologize. He won't give me closure or admit his part of the mistake. No doubt he sits and thinks me the villain too. 

I have to assume that, because he won't apologize. I think he believes that I want him back, and in a way that's true, except that I realize he's not who I loved. I loved who he gave to me, which after all of this time I can tell you with true confidence, he is not. He's not someone who has room to love two women, who saw a light in me that reflected off of his heart, who understood what I needed or who loved me. He's a man who used me while I let him. 

I let him use me because the confidence, this strong woman, she's secretly DYING to be weak, she's begging to trust someone who can understand everything without words. He did. He did, because he ruins people like me all of the time. I let him. That is my fault. I knew his wife existed and I forgot her, even when he called her while we were sharing an intimate moment in my bed and he had to walk naked into my kitchen to speak with her. I ignored that she was real.

I didn't know. I wasn't the only one, and in the end, I LET HIM GO, I PUSHED HIM AWAY. I found out that he was not who I thought. Not a man who loved his wife and couldn't leave, and loved me but knew I was happy. He just wanted to feed his ego with the love of women. I found that out when I met another women he'd done this to, and found that he lied about a relationship I felt was happening. His own employee...he called me crying denying the accusation. To her I also say, whatever he said to you, it was probably a lie. I only sort of knew and I decided that it was easier to believe that I was the only other one, because I loved him. 

This still doesn't make him the bad guy. We all knew, we all had that suspicion about each other. When his wife walked out of the restroom and complimented my shoes, when his bartender told me about her booty call after the holiday party, I knew it. I knew and you knew, and we all knew, but none of us asked the question aloud. 

Now, the question I have asked myself is simple, was it worth it? In a way, yes I learned a lot about myself, and even more about who I want to be versus who I've been. In another way, no. No it wasn't worth the fallout. The way it brought me to distrust and doubt, the way it destroyed my friendship with him and my faith in myself. The way I acted, who was that girl? The one so angry, she told someone who already knew and who turns her blind eye, because she may have accepted this. The jealous mistress who just wanted to pretend. I was no one. I was something to play with, and I allowed it. I still don't know why other than to say it felt good when I loved him. 

He was the first person I gave myself to entirely. All of the broken bits, because he said 'implicit trust'. He never heard me, but pretended to.

 I want his apology, but I there is no closure for the other woman. 

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