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.
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