I’ve been played.  By an expert player. While last night’s poem “Sweet juice of the grape” aptly described where I was then….I just found out the real truth, and I have been so played.  So used.  So uncared for and fucked over.  S is not the man I thought he was, he is not the man I was so in love with.  He knows how to play me, to get my sympathy.  But I tired of his game, and stopped playing and the truth came out, and I am so done with him….more done than I was when he fucked the prison whore.

Right now, I think that’s what he deserves, is a prison whore and no more.  Certainly not a woman who is capable of loving.  I’m gonna go lick my wounds with a bottle of rum, and  have myself a good cry, and when I get back from Florida maybe find a man who deserves me.

I might even give A a call.  We are friends, and I know he’d gladly hang out with me.  He’s moving in a few days, but I bet he’d be happy to do something with me to take my mind off of what S has done to me.  I know I’ll get over S, because I’m capable of it.  Because I know what I want, and even though I thought it was him, now that I know it’s not, I can deal with it.  Hope he can sleep at night with what he’s done.  My ex-husband was called unconscionable 9 times by the CT Supreme Court.  I wonder how many S would get.