12 Hours of Being Wretchedly Pathetic

God, I am so pathetic.  Why in the world do I even care what he does or thinks.  My head doesn’t, my head knows I am better off out of that crazy, immature, unbalanced relationship.  I wish the message would get to my heart, I wish the wounds would close and stay that way.

Weekends are hard, really hard.  I know he’s spending the weekend with her, and I know with me he could barely find an afternoon or evening for me.  I am jealous.  Mostly because he’s with this woman who according to him just devastated him, yet he chooses her. And chose to just be cruel to me, like I was a task he needed to get over with so he just got rid of me as quickly and carelessly as possible.

Just another piece of housework for him, like taking the trash out.  The nausea is back.

For all I know, none of what he told me about her was true, or it was only part of the story.  I tended to believe him and all his tall sad tales, but too many of my friends have asked, “Why do you believe him?  You shouldn’t believe anything he says, or said.  It was all manipulation.”  Maybe. Maybe all the “secrets” he told me, that no one else knew, not his wives or Betty Boop, were just stories fabricated by him, to see if I’d believe him, or still want him.  A test to see how I reacted, so he could see how far he could go with me and still have me loving him. That’s what it was with my ex, he is not unlike my ex.

I tend to think now, that what she did to him was revenge for what he did to her, that he declined to own up to his part in it when he told me the story.  But it kind of leaked out, over time.  I remember one morning when we were out to breakfast, maybe a year ago, when he was wondering how she could tell him that if he cheated on her they were done.  He believed “those things just happen, they aren’t planned.”  I remember looking at him, over my breakfast that morning, kind of incerdulously, saying, “It doesn’t just happen!  You don’t just happen to take your clothes off and have sex with someone.  You choose it, you can stop at any time, and say no.”  He said, “Well, shouldn’t unconditional love allow you to forgive it, I mean isn’t that what it’s for?”  I said, “unconditional love is never wishing ill, always wishing the best for everyone.  It doesn’t mean you want or keep people in your life that behave in ways that are hurtful to you.”

As I learned with the prison whore, he is an opportunist, and if he has the chance to fuck someone, he’ll do it if he’s in the mood.  And deal with the consequences after.  (With the prison whore, he found out he couldn’t perform, which added a whole new dimension to his confusion over it and me.)

Then not that long ago, a few months maybe, he said that he was pretty sure she “regretted” doing what she did.  I asked why.  He said, “well why did you go with A?  Because you wanted to get back at me for the prison whore.”  I said, “No, I went with A because I was devastated by what you did, and he was loving, and kind, and sweet and made me feel like I had some value to him.” To which he had no answer. (He always shook off the devastation, as if it was not real, that it was just drama. He couldn’t accept that his actions could do that to someone.)  She may have cheated on him, and run off and got married as revenge for him cheating on her, but I did not….  I cannot relate even to doing that.  I mean, yeah looking for someone who cares for you when you’ve been treated as if you don’t matter, but marrying them?  Drawing someone else into a triangle that is only going to hurt most everyone involved?  That’s deviant.  That’s sick.  That’s unconscionable.

Which is why they are perfect for each other.  They can pretend to love one another, but they have treated each other miserably on and off for all the many years of their relationship.  Hurting each other, breaking up for months, getting back together to feel the rush of emotion all over again.  Addicted to the adrenalin.  He has a very addictive personality, and has, at times in his life, been addicted to many different substances.  I would guess maybe she is the same, and their common tendency to be addictive is the strongest bond they share.

Who the fuck knows?

I’m so pathetic, I sent him a text when I went to bed last night, I don’t know if I was hoping to put a tick in his weekend by sending it, but I was just hurting so much.  I said,

“You prick.  I still can’t believe you did this to me. Why did I ever deserve to be treated so badly?  What did I do to you that deserved this?  Is real love such a painful experience for you that you have to kill the giver?”

He has no way to respond, except to leave a voice mail that I have told him I will delete without listening to.  I would try to keep my word on that, because I know he is incapable of saying anything of comfort to me.  He is incapable of seeing or caring how much he hurt me, he will only defend himself, he will only be feeding his ego, and I know that’s all I did when I sent the text.  He delights in knowing how much I loved him, and the power over my emotions it gives him.  So if he were to respond, I know he would only fuck with my head anyway.

A friend is coming over this morning to help me powerwash my deck.  I need to get it done, so I can paint it before winter.  Hopefully I can paint/stain it when I get back from my nieces wedding next weekend.

I need to just be grateful for all the loving, caring, normal people in my life.  Men who love their wives, families that love each other, and are strong, that include me without question, or judgment.  Who are there to help me, to cry with me, to lift me off the floor when I’ve been knocked down.  People who are only addicted to the pleasure they bring to the people they love, and the pleasure they get in return.

Ok, enough self pity.  Done with him again for awhile.  Writing is cathartic.