How I fell, part nineteen.
“Oh?” I asked, not surprised that my suspicions were confirmed.
“She was checking up on him, figured out you were his ex, and then found your blog,” she said.
“Interesting,” I said.
“Well, what’s interesting is the timing,” she continued. “They started hanging out around Easter, which…from reading your blog, that’s when you met his parents.”
I was stunned.
The blood inside my veins boiled with fury. My eyes narrowed.
“I’m so sorry,” my colleague said. “I debated telling you, but I just wanted you to know how big of a loser this guy is. And to be honest, Holly, this girl is not attractive. You are a class act.”
“Thank you. And thank you for telling me,” I said.
She was looking at her phone.
“According to Facebook, they linked up ‘In a relationship’ on June 27,” she said, looking up at me.
“That’s the day I fucking dumped him,” I hissed. The dots were connecting.
“God, I am so sorry,” she said. “I’ve been there, it sucks, I know.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “Thank you again for telling me.”
I walked back to my office, trying to control my anger. But when I got back to my desk, I got a text from the bastard himself.
“Love your new blog about me. Glad you kept up with Matt lol.”
Dear D, kill yourself.
For starters, I’ve had this blog for more than three years. Second of all, I didn’t “keep up” with Matt. Third, was he really still giving me shit about an ex when he was fucking cheating on me for the entirety of our relationship? And finally, die.
“Glad you and your girlfriend are loving reading it!” I replied.
“We love it. We get a kick out of it,” he said.
“If you like it so far, wait until the good stuff comes…you know, when you were a liar, a fucking cheat, and a drunk ass,” I said.
“Maybe so, but I found someone who loves me for me. She’s just like me. I’m sorry I never felt that way about you. Your blog is a joke,” he said.
She’s just like him? I took that to mean she was a drunk piece of shit with a beer belly, a police record, and a severe case of whiskey dick.
“No, YOU are the joke. So she’s a drunk shit just like you? Maybe y’all can drink, hop in the car and drive together. Fuck off, D.”
And that was the end of that.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. There is an episode of Will & Grace, where Grace finds out her husband Leo cheated on her. She wants to watch her wedding video and see if she can pinpoint where the relationship went to shit.
That’s pretty much what I did that night. I thought of every single moment in our relationship when he was lying to me.
- After meeting his parents on Easter Sunday, he met up with her, but told me he was tired/at home doing laundry
- Sitting across from me at dinner as I met his daughter; he was probably texting her the entire time
- Letting me write a column about our relationship for the entire world to see; while he was fucking someone else
- During every “date night”
- When he was hanging out with the big-titty caddy
- Telling me I was a “fucking liar” when I got upset about Matt’s wedding
- When I covered his ass during his daughter’s graduation
- Getting pissed when I questioned him about his late-night Vampire Diaries sesh
- Telling me his Facebook status was “single” because he never got online
- Going to his roommate’s BBQ “alone”
- Picking him up at the police station (his other girlfriend couldn’t pick him up?)
- Sitting across from him at his expensive birthday dinner while he was probably texting her
- When he went “home” on his birthday night
Every time he talked to me, told me he wasn’t cheating, accused me of cheating, slept next to me, slept with me, told me he loved me, let me buy things for his daughter…every fucking time, he was cheating.
In a way, it felt like closure. It answered a lot of questions that I had (questions like, “Who the fuck was Megan?”), but obviously I didn’t imagine my story ending this way.
Why did he put me through it all—meeting his parents, daughter, extended family—if he was just lying the entire time? It explained why he always accused me of cheating, but it didn’t explain much else. If I hadn’t dumped him for his drunk antics, would this double-life-relationship still be happening?
The part that blew my mind even more (as if it’s possible, right?) was that if I hadn’t started writing this blog, and my colleague didn’t read it, I would have walked away from D thinking the relationship was shit due to alcoholism.
And believe me, that alone, is a justified reason to leave a relationship. Was it necessary for me to learn that the relationship was actually worse than I thought? It’s like finding out you’ve got two kinds of terminal cancer.
That night, I debated taking down these posts.
But I recalled my original reason for writing them: I wanted to show other people just how scary a relationship with an alcoholic can be. I also wanted to create an open dialogue about a subject that is usually bottom-shelf.
And finally, I wanted people to know that no matter how pretty, nice, smart, rich, or giving you are—addiction can affect you.
While I still believe I made my messages clear, my story evolved, and I also learned that you can’t stop someone from cheating.
This relationship is one, of many, that have ended in flames for me; which is essentially why this blog was created in 2010. While I joke about being bitter and cynical, I sometimes surprise myself at the resiliency I have in my heart and soul.
I have always been someone who loves with my whole heart; I put everything into the relationships I have, even if I get burned in the end.
As I sat in my bed that night, I started to regret being so giving to D. I wished the relationship would have never happened. But I recalled something my therapist told me months before: “You don’t want to be emotionless.” And he was right.
I have always been a sucker for sunrises—but I’m rarely up to catch them. But I snapped that beautiful one on the morning of D’s birthday; probably the last pleasant time we had together.
I chose to take that as my sign for a fresh start.
I woke the next day feeling much better. It sucked to hear he cheated on me, but I was better than that, and it only confirmed that my life was happier without him in it.
But it’s never really over, is it?
Yesterday (no, seriously) I came back to my desk after a meeting to find a text from D, a text that proves Karma does exist, and it can be a beautiful, beautiful thing:
“I am sure this will make you happy. Your blog has completely ruined my life in all aspects.”
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Posted on August 30, 2013, in The Squeeze and tagged alcoholic, dating, drinking, ex boyfriends, family, fighting, heartbreak, Holly A. Phillips, How to Make Lemonade, life, love, relationships, sex, The Bitter Lemon, twenty-something, writing. Bookmark the permalink. 6 Comments.