Creep

Remember how excited I was to gush about my possible new love? Turns out he was a creep.  A cheater. A low-life scoundrel. I needed time to write about this because, honestly, my heart still feels like it's bleeding everywhere.

Normally, I would have included some of the texts that were flying between us, but there were so many. Re-reading them would have been too painful. As you can see, I'm still licking my battle wounds.

So what the hell happened? Well, I discovered in the most horrific way that my boyfriend couldn't keep his dick in his pants. In fact, it was in a condom that had never entered me. Looking back, there were signs. It's just that he was studying for the bar exam and was using the bar exam as his excuse for his disappearing texts and phone calls. Over the summer, I was seeing him and hearing from him less and less. I didn't push him because I didn't want to add to his stress. After a couple of weeks of his disappearing act, I point-blank asked him if I should just back off because it seemed he just wasn't interested in me. His answer: "No, it's just the bar exam. I'm just so busy. But I want you in my life. I care about you. I don't want you to go."

I believed him. Why wouldn't I? I remember how stressful that test was, and people handle stress differently. That's how I rationalized it. Never mind the fact that when I was studying for the bar exam, I was in a long-distance relationship with someone who had just started medical school in another state, and we were still able to talk on the phone every night, or at least text every day.

His uncle died last week. He cried on the phone to me. He wanted me to come over. I couldn't that night because my new boss needed some complex legal research done that was due the next day (you know, the classic 4 p.m. assignment). I told my boyfriend that I'd see him that Friday. He was supposed to travel to his family's house that was 2 hours away on Saturday for the funeral. By that point, we hadn't seen each other in over a month, and it was all because he was "just so busy."

When that Friday came, like a gleeful child, I stopped at the market to pick up dinner for us. I also decided to surprise him with about $50 worth of groceries - bottled water, study snacks, and an assortment of other goodies to show that I still cared despite his inattentiveness.

It was raining when I got to his apartment.  He hadn't gotten home yet. He usually left the door open and always told me I was welcome to go in, so I went in. I started loading the groceries into his apartment. He arrived a few minutes after I did. When he came up the stairs, he jumped. "I wasn't expecting you! I wanted to clean the place up before you got here." I told him I understood that sometimes an apartment goes into disarray during the bar exam. He rushed inside his apartment. I followed in after.

We started to talk, and then we kissed. Kissing lead to other things. During all of the action, I lost the back to one of the earrings I was wearing. While he was in the shower, I started looking for my earring backing. I checked everywhere. When I finally got to the bedroom, to my horror, I saw new condoms on the floor - 2 wrapped condoms, and one condom wrapper. You know, the kind of torn wrapper that you leave on the floor right before you're about to f*ck someone.

I felt the gut-punch. I couldn't speak. I felt panic. I went to the bathroom where he was. His phone was on the counter. I hesitated - should I do this? YES. YES YOU SHOULD. I went through his phone, and there it was - messages between him and another girl that spanned during the time he and I had started dating. I felt sick. I felt hurt. I yanked the shower curtain back and demanded an explanation. He denied everything and said the girl was happily married to his friend, that they have 2 kids, and that the condoms pre-dated our relationship. He became angry and told me never to pull the shower curtain on him again. When I confronted him with the text messages, then the girl became an old friend of his who was separated and that it was just talk and nothing more. He said that he lied to me about being exclusive with me and that he wasn't ready for it, but that he didn't sleep with anyone.

I didn't believe him. Not one word. He was defensive, and I know that when people are defensive and start changing their stories, they're liars. I took the groceries and went back to my apartment. I looked at him before I slammed the door. He looked devastated. I rushed to my car. After about ten minutes, he started texting me. It was a night full of text message apologies.

I called one of my best friends while I was driving back to my apartment. I could barely speak. I sobbed into the phone. I uttered the words I never wanted to say again, "He was cheating on me." She told me she was coming over, and she did. The minute I saw her, I went straight into her arms, sobbing as if there had been a death.

She stayed until about midnight, pouring out words of comfort to me. She let me cry as much as I wanted and rant as much as I wanted. We opened the bottle of wine I bought that I originally intended to share with him. She had a glass. I had a glass. After she left, I drank the whole bottle. I just wanted to numb myself and forget that I had a heart. It worked for a while, but the hurt and the rage never stopped. I couldn't sleep. I decided to go nuclear.

On Facebook, I confronted the side chick, then blocked her. I also messaged her husband and told him everything. I then blocked him. The next morning, my now ex started cussing me out, telling me I was a crazy bitch, that I ruined a marriage. My response: "You ruined the marriage when you stuck your dick in it." 

We fought via text all day. I had had enough. I finally relented and told him that he won. I told him he broke my heart. What more did he want from me? My heart was broken. I spent the day crying. I didn't want to leave my apartment. I was miserable.

The next day, I sent him a long text message essentially saying that I felt awful about all of the horrible things we said to each other and that he was now part of my past. He called me immediately. He said he was stressed. He insisted he hadn't slept with anyone since we'd been together. He said the condoms were old. He said the girls (that's right, plural) meant nothing to him and it was just flirting. He said he wished we could have talked things out. He apologized and said he realized that he pushed me to be my worst self because he had been treating me badly for the last month and a half. He didn't know how he felt about me because the bar exam had him wound up. We then agreed that we wouldn't speak for 2 weeks, let him get through the bar exam, and then we'd speak and decide if we wanted to start over fresh.

What an idiot I was.

He left for his family's house. He had taken the trash out. Something inside me still had doubts. I went to his place,  saw the trash outside, went through his trash, and found a used condom along with 3 discarded packages of single-dosage male virility pills with instructions to consume 30 minutes prior to sexual intercourse. Before our relationship, eh? The final nail in the coffin had been hammered. I texted him and told him that we were done, that I found the used condom, and that he was garbage to me. He responded and said that I was crazy and that he knows I found the condoms, and that's what caused all of this. I clarified to him that I found the used condom, not the wrapper, and that it was over between us. There were no second chances. I blocked him from my phone and every form of social media he could possibly contact me on.

On the drive home, I thought to myself what a fool I was. I started to blame myself for everything. I had thrown my rules out the window. I had done everything differently, and for what? I opened my heart to the wrong person. How could I have been so stupid?

Then I thought back to my friend's words - I'm not the one to blame. He's the one to blame. So often, women tend to blame themselves when things go wrong. We opened our hearts too soon, we did this too soon, we did that too soon, we should've done this differently, bla bla bla.

But we never blame the cheater. The cheater always gets away with it. The cheater is the poor pressured lamb who was pushed into cheating. Poor little cheater.

BULL F***ING SHIT! 

He cheated because he's a scoundrel, a creep, a low-life piece of trash. He didn't cheat because I pressured him into a relationship or because I did anything. He cheated because he wanted to, and he had the maturity of a twenty-year-old boy instead of a thirty-three-year-old man.

All I can say is that I hope that motherf***er fails the bar exam and endures nothing but suffering throughout his life. I hope he catches an STD and dies from it. I have nothing but hate for him. Every time I think about every single lie he probably told to my face, I get angrier.

Maybe one day I'll forgive him... but not today. Today, I am not the bigger person and I am not the well-wisher.

Today, I am the bitch.

Just One More Day

Two weeks ago, I was notified that my ex co-worker, "Angie," was found dead in her car. The news shocked me. Her death had been in the news, but I never expected it to be her. I saw her only days prior to her death, and she was happy, upbeat, and cheerful.

My life had changed radically over the last month. A larger law firm found out about me. A head hunter working for the firm contacted me. The law firm was my dream firm, one I had always wanted to work for. The partner saw my resume, scheduled me for an interview, and two days later I was hired. The story surrounding the interview is pretty humorous, but I'll save that for another post. The bottom line is that my life was getting a lot better. I was even hired for the money that I wanted, and it was a considerable chunk of money more per year than my old firm was paying me.

I gave my two-week notice. I was excited to leave my old firm. Angie was happy for me as well. I only knew her for roughly three months, but her death reminded me that there is a lot more going on with people under the surface than meets the eye.

Angie used to irritate me at work. I didn't like her much, and I wasn't very fond of her dog, either. It was a fat chihuahua that used to shit all over the office. I also used to be irritated about how she would flaunt her new boyfriend in the office. He knew her for a few days and was already sending flowers to her at the office. She was on cloud 9. After a while, the boyfriend thing seemed to simmer down.

Don't get me wrong - I don't think Angie should have died. She was only 26. Looking back, I realize now that she took emotions to the extreme. I wish I could have done more for her. I wish I could have realized it at the time, instead of now.

For a brief period, Angie tried stealing my work at the old firm. I know that most people get catapulted to instant sainthood after death, but Angie will always be just Angie to me. When I caught on to what she was doing with the cases I was working on, I did nothing. I let it go. I didn't think it was worth making waves because it was minor, but it inhibited me from trusting her. I started behaving dryly towards her. Angie picked up on it. After a few days, she confronted me in my office one morning.

She walked in, closed the door, and she looked calm.
"I need to talk to you."
"Sure, about what?"
"Oh, I think you know."
"Actually, I don't... can you enlighten me?"

Angie started to look like she was about to cry. Apparently, the managing attorney for the firm, the big boss, caught on to what Angie was doing on the cases and had given her a stern reprimand. Angie started apologizing profusely to me, saying how much she looked up to me. Her eyes started to tear. She told me that she never meant to offend me and that she knew she was no where near my level. I was surprised by all of it, including how emotional Angie was getting over it. I told her to relax, that I wasn't offended, and that all was well. After that day, I softened up towards her and gave her advice on legal practice. I just chalked it all up to her being an immature "baby lawyer." She was only 26 and barely out of law school.

Angie seemed to perk up after that. After a while, I noticed she would keep the door to her office closed. Out of the blue one day, she cleaned her office from top to bottom. We thought she was getting ready to quit.

One of the paralegals told me that Angie would huff a lot about the lack of work she was receiving. A few weeks later, Angie asked me if I could give her some work. By that time, I had given my two-week notice to the big boss. I asked Angie to work on a few motions that I needed to get done. She was excited and got to work immediately on it. She did a good job on the work I gave her, and I told her so. She was a smart girl and I told her that I trusted her work. She then complained to me about how the big boss wasn't giving her enough work. She was dissatisfied. I reminded her that she was still fresh to legal practice. I told her to be patient, and eventually she would have her own caseload. She hadn't even been at the firm for three months yet.

I saw her three days before she died. It was my last day at the old firm. Angie was happy for me. She asked me about my new firm. She was like a small puppy. She told me how the big boss had immediately started giving her more work to do now that I was leaving. She was excited, but she had bigger dreams. She then shared her dreams with me. She wanted to leave the firm in a year. She wanted to get some experience and open her own firm. Her eyes sparkled as she shared her dreams with me.

She told me how much she wanted to be like me. "You're such a bad ass. I hope I can be as good of a lawyer as you." My heart melted when she said that. I told her that she would. I told her she could do anything she wanted to do - all she had to do was go for it. She pitched the idea of us going into practice together. "Wouldn't that be awesome?" she asked me with a huge smile on her face. I smiled back at her. "Sure!" I didn't mean it at the time, but I said it like I did. I wanted her to be happy. I liked her smile.

When it was time for me to leave, I gave everyone a hug. Angie's hug was the warmest. She didn't just hug me - she held me, just a little longer than a hug would have lasted. She squeezed me tightly. I was leaving for a conference that I was already signed up to attend. Angie wanted to get together when I got back. I told her we would, but we never did.

I drove back on a Saturday. One of the paralegals texted me the news that Angie was found dead in the parking lot of a hardware store in her car. I was stunned. I didn't know what to say. She didn't know the cause of death, but police didn't think it was foul play. The paralegal promised to keep me informed if she heard anything about the cause of death or the funeral.

I knew that Angie had a neurological issue and a heart issue. Her neurological issue was one that caused her to pass out randomly. I immediately ruled out suicide. The girl had it all - she had a law degree, she was smart, she was starting her career, she had plans, she was gorgeous, and she had a new boyfriend. I also ruled out drug overdose because she was such a fitness freak. I theorized that she passed out in her car and died of heatstroke because the windows were rolled up. It seemed logical. That's what I believed. I convinced myself of my own theory.

I got the news of her memorial. I planned to go to it with people from my old office. The big boss couldn't be bothered to attend Angie's funeral. The accountant had a class. The paralegal that had broken the news to me suddenly had a sick cat that she had to take to the vet. All of it outraged me. This was Angie. Can't we honor her?

I rode with another paralegal that I was close with. She was about my mother's age, and she was a huge gossip. If anyone had any information about anything, it would be her. On the drive to the church, I immediately tried pumping her for information. She gushed.

Angie shot herself in the head. There was blood spatter all over the car and all over the work computer. The computer was how the office found out about it. The police notified the big boss that they were holding on to the computer for investigation.

After I left the office, Angie disclosed that she had cervical cancer. The boyfriend Angie had was actually a married man who dumped her to go back to his wife. Angie had high hopes for him. The paralegal told me that Angie had created a "bucket list" to do with him. She had only dated him for a month. She told him that they were going to do everything on the list, but randomly. Angie told him that she would call him and give him ten minutes to get ready, and off they would go. The boyfriend thought she was nuts. Shortly after that was when he dumped her. The day that Angie shot herself was the day of or the day after the married man broke up with her.

Knowing Angie, she must have felt devastated and didn't have the emotional stability to deal with it. I'm sure she had more going on that she was upset about. She didn't call anyone. She must have withdrawn into herself, into that darkness, and concocted a plan to relieve herself of her emotional pain. I wish she hadn't gone through with it. I wish she had waited for the pain to pass.

I know what that darkness is like. A few years ago, I was in a deep depression. I never told anyone because I didn't want to bring anyone into the darkness. I thought I was crazy. I thought I was ugly for it. I couldn't get out of bed. I cried myself to sleep frequently. I hated waking up in the mornings. I didn't want to face the world. I didn't want to go to work. I just wanted to withdraw into myself and stay away from people. I was like this for months, but nobody knew because to the rest of the world, I would smile, laugh, and joke like I always did. My smile hid my pain.

I remember one night, it got really bad. I wanted to die. It was all I could think about. I was consumed by the allure of death. I took some steps to make it happen. I almost made it happen. I remember the following day, I was half angry and half relieved that I wasn't dead. Today, I'm really glad that I'm alive because I have so much to live for, and so did Angie. Death isn't worth it. I wish Angie had waited one more day because she would have seen that darkness disappear. She would have realized that the darkness is temporary. She would have realized that it's not worth dying.

The memorial for Angie angered me. It was a non-denominational Christian service. The preacher was terrible and barely said anything about Angie's life. The whole service was geared at converting people. It didn't feel like it was honoring Angie.

The paralegal and I went out for lunch after the memorial. We went to an eclectic restaurant that I like to frequent. We toasted to Angie - to the girl with the bright smile, may you rest in peace.

To anyone else reading this who is thinking about suicide - please don't do it. Please wait just one more day. Any time that darkness is consuming you, just wait one more day. Always wait one more day. I promise that the darkness will pass.