12 June 2007
♥ and so it begins.
This morning was, in a word, terrifying. I never thought I'd have to do that, that I'd have to hear those words coming out of my own mouth. The only thing that made me brave enough to do it was knowing that if someone doesn't put a stop to this, he'll do it again. He's done it before, and he'll do it again. I don't want him to put someone else through what he's already put us through.
The hardest thing for me about this whole ordeal--more than being scared and embarassed--is that it makes me feel like the last two years of my life have been a lie. Like our relationship, our friendship was a lie. This means he cheated on me; how much did those 14 months really mean to him? It means he's been lying to me for nearly a year, who knows about what else. Who knows how many other people he's done this to.
I resent him. I resent how much power he's had over me, I resent how he's put me down and crushed my self-esteem time and again, how he tried to sabotage my relationship with the one person I've ever truly been in love with, and, in essence--by making me oh-so-insecure--that's exactly what he did. [That's why we fell apart, I think, because he just couldn't deal with the extra weight, and I understand; who could?]
He's made the last 10 months utterly miserable at every opportunity, and as painful as this ordeal has been so far [and as much worse as I know it's going to be in the coming months], I can't help feeling a little relieved that he's finally out of my life. I never have to talk to him again. I never have to hear his voice or see his face or anything. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.
I hate that there will probably be no consequences for this. It's my word against his now, and there's nothing I can do. If it goes to trial, he'll get a lawyer and end up vindicated; I'll have my reputation dragged through the mud and end up right back where I started. I hate that he's going to do it again, I know he is. I hate that he cheated on his poor girlfriend, who he doesn't really deserve in the first place. I hate everything about him, everything.
But I promised myself nothing would ruin this summer, and I'm not about to let him poison it the way he's done everything else. He's gone, out of my life; I've washed my hands of him and I'm never looking back. I'm determined to move on with my life.
Okay, I know this is getting a little lengthy, but I have to get really cheesey for a second. Yesterday as we walked into the Dublin airport, I saw one of those Love Actually-style scenes where an adorable globetrotting girlfriend returns to her delighted boyfriend, who laughs out loud and runs over and they hug and he picks her up and swings her around when he sees her because he's just missed her that much. It was pretty much the sweetest thing I've ever seen.
I couldn't help wishing the one person I wanted would miraculously show up at DIA and repeat said scene, and although the vague hope of seeing his face in the most unexpected yet romantic of places is always hiding in the back of my mind, I knew it was pretty much a lost cause.
But seeing that in Dublin made me think: there is love. There is hope. Even when you least expect it, even when you think everything's gone wrong, there is always, always a chance. I'm not going to give up on any of this because I believe in second chances, I believe love will find a way, I believe there is always hope for everyone, no matter how badly they've screwed up.
I don't have to believe I'll be happy again someday.
I already am.
The hardest thing for me about this whole ordeal--more than being scared and embarassed--is that it makes me feel like the last two years of my life have been a lie. Like our relationship, our friendship was a lie. This means he cheated on me; how much did those 14 months really mean to him? It means he's been lying to me for nearly a year, who knows about what else. Who knows how many other people he's done this to.
I resent him. I resent how much power he's had over me, I resent how he's put me down and crushed my self-esteem time and again, how he tried to sabotage my relationship with the one person I've ever truly been in love with, and, in essence--by making me oh-so-insecure--that's exactly what he did. [That's why we fell apart, I think, because he just couldn't deal with the extra weight, and I understand; who could?]
He's made the last 10 months utterly miserable at every opportunity, and as painful as this ordeal has been so far [and as much worse as I know it's going to be in the coming months], I can't help feeling a little relieved that he's finally out of my life. I never have to talk to him again. I never have to hear his voice or see his face or anything. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.
I hate that there will probably be no consequences for this. It's my word against his now, and there's nothing I can do. If it goes to trial, he'll get a lawyer and end up vindicated; I'll have my reputation dragged through the mud and end up right back where I started. I hate that he's going to do it again, I know he is. I hate that he cheated on his poor girlfriend, who he doesn't really deserve in the first place. I hate everything about him, everything.
But I promised myself nothing would ruin this summer, and I'm not about to let him poison it the way he's done everything else. He's gone, out of my life; I've washed my hands of him and I'm never looking back. I'm determined to move on with my life.
Okay, I know this is getting a little lengthy, but I have to get really cheesey for a second. Yesterday as we walked into the Dublin airport, I saw one of those Love Actually-style scenes where an adorable globetrotting girlfriend returns to her delighted boyfriend, who laughs out loud and runs over and they hug and he picks her up and swings her around when he sees her because he's just missed her that much. It was pretty much the sweetest thing I've ever seen.
I couldn't help wishing the one person I wanted would miraculously show up at DIA and repeat said scene, and although the vague hope of seeing his face in the most unexpected yet romantic of places is always hiding in the back of my mind, I knew it was pretty much a lost cause.
But seeing that in Dublin made me think: there is love. There is hope. Even when you least expect it, even when you think everything's gone wrong, there is always, always a chance. I'm not going to give up on any of this because I believe in second chances, I believe love will find a way, I believe there is always hope for everyone, no matter how badly they've screwed up.
I don't have to believe I'll be happy again someday.
I already am.
6/12/2007
