I’ve Been Played by an Expert

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.

i love my strangers :) especially the ones I have memories with aka friends

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Living Through Fear

Ok, I had a quasi-relationship with someone for a few months. It wasn’t a love relationship, and it wasn’t really a friendship. It was something else, a connection, really undefineable. It started out as one thing, then ran into a wall, morphed into something else, and then, finally, kind of blew up in a fit of ego vs. truth. It was weird.

But dang, it’s just come to me how strange it can be to see all evidence of that person’s involvement in your life disappear. Comments, “likes” on posts, pictures, texts, emails, all kinds of interactions just disappear. Now…I didn’t really do much of that. I don’t really care that much whether or not I have an interaction with this person, but he has made it a point to make sure there is no sign of me.

Blocked my phone, my email, unfriended me, unliked my FB page. Whatever. I dislike doing that stuff, if a person isn’t bothering me, I just don’t do it. It’s part of my life, why try and delete it?

Well,I suppose that if a person’s MO is to run. To hide. To retreat. To bring the walls around him in, so that no one else can get in, it seems like a good idea. He might almost be able to convince himself that I never existed in his life, that I never taught him anything, that he gained nothing from it, and that all the stuff he projected onto me, all the kindnesses I extended to a seriously messed up person, were actually done with an ulterior motive to get something from him. Even tho I have more that he has, and not just material things. I have a life that I love, a job that I like, a beautiful home, a great kid, a loving family, a warm loving circle of friends. He has a sad story, and that’s about it. He can’t drive, having lost his license for 5 years. He has a home, which is paid for lucky for him. He can’t work, because he can’t drive, he has a few friends, a function of having grown up in the town he lives in. But nothing that would be a motive for me to do kind things in the hope of getting some of it.

Fear. I gotta say, fear. I have known two men who make every decision in their lives based on fear. Never on love. I gotta feel for both of them. So, while he decides that the reason I took him to an art museum was because I wanted something from him, undefined, I really just have to feel sorry for him, that he is unable to accept human kindness, and that usually comes from a place of not believing he deserves it.  He thinks it’s his gut talking.  But any time we come from a place of fear, you know it’s the ego.  My ex also didn’t believe he deserved it. He also believed every kindness was a manipulation.  He also lives his life from that place of fear, from his ego.

Whatever. If deleting, and running, and pretending that I was never there helps him get through the day, so be it. He won’t see a sign of me. But…I gotta wonder how he’s gonna delete the memories of the truth from his mind. Because you know….That shit that you bury, doesn’t die. It just festers, and rots and makes you sick. So much easier to view the world through the eyes of love, isn’t it?

He is an artist, he paints.  He had given me a painting, on the first night we met.  I loved it.  I had pointed it out as my favorite of the dozens of paintings in his house. Yesterday, I sent it back to him.  I could not have it hanging on my walls, much as I liked it, to remind me of all the accusations he lay on me because he just couldn’t accept kindness as kindness.  Bad energy, even from something beautiful. Because he had to project onto me all the fearful thoughts he has about himself.  I put a note with it, telling him I hope he finds someone to give it to that he can trust enough to accept their kindness.

I am not angry with him.  And, I am out of his life, at least as far as anyone can see.  The electronics age is so easy, put the button and delete.  Now, if he can just find a way to delete the memories, the truth that is embedded in them, he’ll be ok……