So I did something really stupid, for me.  I texted with him today.  I thought I could handle it.  I was feeling detached, happy, like I could just play with him on the phone and be ok.

God, I’m stupid.  I won’t do it again.  By the end of the day, I realized I was so not over him.  That it KILLS me that he sleeps with her once a week….he swears he wasn’t seeing her before.  Should I believe that?  Idk.  I just don’t know.  It doesn’t matter does it?  I cannot stand it.  The thought of it makes me physically sick.

I told him I can’t.  He called me….he said again, what we have, I don’t have with her, it doesn’t involve anyone else.  I said, it didn’t, it does now, because there’s a 3rd person in the room. Not when he’s with her, she doesn’t even fucking know him.  She knows the person she makes him be to be acceptable.  So he doesn’t have a 3rd person in the room.  He has 2 rooms with 2 people.  As if he’s two men.  There is one room, one bed, one man, and two women.  One woman gets in the bed with him, and has a life with him.  The other one cries a lot. Eventually, she disappears.

I feel sick again now.  It’s back in my sacral chakra.  The one where we carry our creativity and our sexuality.  I am sick.  I hung up the phone and sobbed, my head in my hands for a good 15 minutes.  I am still crying.

What the fuck was I thinking?  Who was I kidding?  Geezus.  What the fuck, Deb?  Am I a glutton for punishment?

He didn’t like me saying I snuggled up with A when I went to say goodbye.  I saw him maybe 4 or 5 times after that.  It was the end of May.  I saw him about once a month for a few hours for the next 4 months, maybe he spent one night, one fucking night, even though we talked constantly.  Why would he even care?  Because he didn’t know?  Well, I didn’t know he was talking to Betty Boop.  I didn’t have any idea he wanted to be with her til he told me he was going to be, and he was too busy and didn’t want to talk about it.

He told me I can be vicious with my temper.  Ok, I own that.  I can be.  I use my anger to deal with intense pain.  He can be vicious for absolutely no reason, just because he can be.  He can shove me in the dirt and watch me gasp for air and tell me I’m a bitch because I need air. Because I didn’t see it coming.

Because I loved him so much, and I shouldn’t have, it was stupid of me, and worthy of being treated like a dog. After all, he told me he didn’t want a relationship….except it wasn’t true.  He did, does, want a relationship, with her, just not with me.

Stupid stupid stupid woman I am.

Please God, let the pain make me stronger. Strong enough to know that talking to him will only make me want him.  Strong enough to know better.

Wish I could just run the fuck away.  I wish I didn’t own my home, that I could just move out and run.  I wish my head would stop aching and my heart and my stomach.

I’ve still let go, I hadn’t changed that when I talked to him. But I thought I could just talk to him.  Nothing will ever make this ok.  I just have to get through it, and forget about it.  I wish I could hate him.

It’s myself, really, that I’m mad at.  I won’t ever do it again.  I won’t ever stay with someone who doesn’t want me the way I want him.  I won’t ever tell anyone I love them unless I know they love me too.  I won’t ever give my heart away to someone who doesn’t give me theirs.

I was an idiot.  I set myself up for complete and utter devastation and that’s what I got.  Even though I tried all summer, at least 4 times, to leave him, he sucked me back in.  But he’s not vicious.  No, not at all.  To suck me in for his own ego, and then discard me like yesterday’s trash for a trashy woman. And he didn’t need to be angry to be vicious.  He just needed to feed his ego and get what he wanted at all costs and with the least amount of effort.

Learn, Deb, learn.  And leave him alone.  And if you don’t like this, S, don’t effing read it. I’m the only one who knows who the fuck you are.  THIS is my vicious anger.  Masking my vicious pain.  OMG, I’m so effing vicious.  I wrote a blog, telling the truth.