I wrote this a couple weeks ago, when I was dealing with the aftermath of the first mention that Betty Boop was back in his life.  He was “cooling off”, he was upset over my temper.  It turned out to be propehtic.

What am I losing if I lose him?

A man who never loved me.

A man who loved having sex with me.

A man who pretended to care, so that I wouldn’t be with anyone else.

A man who only found hours for me, all summer, hours once every few weeks.

A man whose passion for me was measured in minutes, not heartbeats.

A man who didn’t want me in his life, just on the periphery, when he chose.

A man who didn’t want a relationship.

A man who said he never wanted to be in love again.

A man whose communications skills were pathetic for a grown man.

A man who needed to test his sexual ability on someone else. It wasn’t enough for him that he had it with me.

A man who would disappear for days, ignoring all my frantic communication. Frantic because he’d caused me to believe he was very sick.

A man who couldn’t be there for me. I couldn’t call him when j needed. Only he could do that, when he needed.

A man who got angry and belittling when I misunderstood him.
What will I lose if I lose him?  Not sure.

“Not sure” was my answer On September 15.  Today, my answer is clearer.  Smarter.  Wiser. 

What am I losing? Nothing, not a damn thing that’s worth anything.