Tag Archive | cheater

Not looking back

I’ve deleted you from my life.

You won’t hear from me again.  Ever.  I’ve blocked your phone number.  If you text me, I will never receive it.  If you call, it will go straight to voicemail, but I will never receive the message.  Technology can be wonderful.

Sure, if you really wanted to contact me you could.  You could call the office, text my work cell phone or send an email.  But I’m betting you don’t.

Last week the man in my life found out about you.  By accident.  By reading a text message to a friend of mine.  It hurt him badly.  We got past it.

I had saved screen shots of hundreds of text messages.  Gone.  Delete.  Empty recycle bin.  All photos of you — banished.

I’m not hurting him again.  All I can do is show him, every day, that he’s the one I want.

Now I understand how you could have written me off so quickly when TW found out about me.  You love her.  You don’t want to lose her.

Yeah, I know the feeling.

And I also realize you never really loved me.

I’ve got a shot at happiness with an amazing man.  I’m not about to mess that up.

Letting my guard down

I spent an incredible weekend with an amazing man.  A man better than I deserve — although he doesn’t understand why I say that.

Saturday was filled with anxiety.  I had flashbacks of you, and they stung.

I remembered last Valentine’s Day — eating fast food and meeting you at a hotel the night before you flew off on an excursion with your brother.  I dressed up — you didn’t really care.  I bought you gifts — you were kind of appreciative.  I still don’t think you ever listened to the CD of music I made you.

This Valentine’s Day, the man in my life came to my house the night before.  I took Valentine’s Day off work.  We slept in, ate chocolate-covered strawberries for breakfast.  Took a walk.  Had a great dinner.  Saw a movie.  Came home and cuddled.

Faced with the reality of someone who wants to be with me, juxtapositioned with the memories of a love that I believed in so much, but was never this good…haunted me.

Damn you!

I can’t believe it’s real.  I can’t believe something this good can happen to me.

Trusting him with my heart?  Still not happening.  I beat myself up over it.  How in the world could I have believed that what you and I had was real…and can’t believe that what I have with HIM is real?  He’s here.  All the time.  He’s never given me reason to doubt how he feels about me.  But I question it.  All the time.  To a destructive level.

I pray to God (very unusual) every day (highly unusual) not to let me mess this up.  It’s not often you get more than one bite at the apple, and I don’t want to let this one go.

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Someday is here

I’m going to move on and I’m going to be happy one day.  You’re still going to be miserable.  And missing me.  Some women would take satisfaction in that.  I don’t.  I just think it’s sad.

I wrote that shortly after The Breakup.  It was prophetic.  I’ve moved on and I’m happy.  Are you still miserable?

 

Four Years Ago Today

first dayI

 

I was so excited.  I knew you were special, that we had an unique connection.

Do you remember that day four years ago?  It was snowing, like today.  You wore a blue sweater.  I wanted to touch you and feel your hands on my body.  We had lunch.

I fell hard.  My love for you was beautiful, sad and evil all at the same time.  I’m not even sure your love for me was real.  Four years.  More than half your marriage.

Did you envision we would be here now?  In pain, having inflicted pain?

Do you still wish I were there?  Do you still miss me?

I’d be lying if I said I don’t miss you.  Of course I do.  We were lovers in every sense of the word.  But we couldn’t make it work.  I wanted too much.  You couldn’t give me what I needed.  I found someone who can.  He’s amazing — even more amazing than you.  Not because he’s smarter, better looking, or better in bed.  Although he is pretty hot, very smart and a thoughtful and passionate lover.

He’s real.  He’s here.  He cares and he wants to build a real relationship with me.  He calls me every day.  Looks me in the eye when he makes love to me.  He’s open, honest and not afraid to be sensitive or vulnerable.

Is it love?  It looks like it.  Feels like it.  Maybe.  I need to figure out if it’s real.  After all, I thought your love was real, too.

Four years.  It’s a long time to not have what you want.

 

 

Musical Monday: Jar of Hearts

No I can’t take one more step towards you
Cause all that’s waiting is regret
And don’t you know I’m not your ghost anymore?
You lost the love I loved the most

I learned to live, half-alive
And now you want me one more time

(Chorus)
And who do you think you are?
Running around leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
And tearing love apart

You’re gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
So don’t come back for me
Who do you think you are?

I hear you’re asking all around
If I am anywhere to be found
I have grown too strong
To ever fall back in your arms

I’ve learned to live, half-alive
Now you want me one more time

Who do you think you are?
Running around leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
And tearing love apart

You’re gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
So don’t come back for me
Who do you think you are?

Dear, it took so long
Just to feel alright
Remember how to put back
The light in my eyes

I wish I had missed
The first time that we kissed
‘Cause you broke all your promises
And now you’re back you don’t get to get me back

And Who do you think you are?
Running around leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
And tearing love apart

You’re gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
So don’t come back for me
Don’t come back at all

And who do you think you are?
Running around leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
And tearing love apart

You’re gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
Don’t come back for me
Don’t come back at all

Who do you think you are?
Who do you think you are?
Who do you think you are?

Songwriters
LAWRENCE, DREW C./PERRI, CHRISTINA JUDITH/YERETSIAN, BARRETT NOUBAR

Published by
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

Read more: Christina Perri – Jar Of Hearts Lyrics | MetroLyrics

Last. Text. Ever.

Last night was one of the best of my life.  I had dinner and amazing conversation with the man with whom I am smitten.  It’s hard to say that, since I have been so in love with you for so very long.

You had been warned.  I talked to you a couple of weeks ago and told you about my new romance.  It pissed you off.

I saw you last week.  I wasn’t proud of it, and I will write about it later.  But I did. And I felt awful.

Especially after my conversation last night with Mr. Lookalike.  He truly wants me in every sense of the word.  He’s an amazing man.

So I devised in my mind what I would say when I next heard from you. Which, honestly, I thought would be before today. I last saw you on a day with very bad weather.  I never heard from you.  You didn’t ask if I made it home OK, didn’t express any concern about me at all.  I reached out once, in a fit of emotional angst over my new relationship, distressed because this new man thinks I’m wonderful and wants to spend every moment possible with me.  I was struggling with accepting the fact that you don’t.

I had assumed you would eventually send me a text saying you love me and/or miss me.  My planned response was to be Love the One You’re With.

Today I deleted you from my phone’s favorites.  Then I deleted our text history.  Over  a year’s worth of texts.  Had to be nearly 3,000.  My phone went haywire afterward.

And then the text came in.  I need to paraphrase since I have deleted it.  It said something like, “Hi, how are you doing?’  That made it difficult to use the line I planned.  Big Bro, however, told me to put on my Big Girl Panties and do the right thing.

I replied something like, “I am doing very well, actually never been better!  I don’t know why you are asking, since you are supposed to be in [wife's native country] with your family.  Love the One You’re With.”

That obviously went over your head.  You texted back with why you didn’t leave the country and info about a work catastrophe.  At the end, as an afterthought, you said you were glad I was doing well.

I remember my last text to you very well.

“I’m in a committed relationship with a man who makes me very happy.  Please do not contact me again.  Thank you.”

Your reply confirmed in my mind that I have done the right thing.  Made the right choice.  And while it seemed harsh, it didn’t hurt me as much as I would have thought it would.

“OK — Works for me!  Good Luck!”

You didn’t say you were glad I was happy.  You always told me you just wanted me to be happy.  You never said you wanted to MAKE me happy.  Well, Mr. Lookalike does.  He says, “I want to make you happy.”  He doesn’t want to lose me.  And although his life is uncertain right now — where he will live, what kind of work he will do — he assures me that he wants me to be part of his life.

Good luck?  I already have it.  

A piece of my heart always will be with you.  And you will continue to disrespect it for the rest of your life, just as you’ve disrespected my love for you over the past four years.

You are the one who needs luck.

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Remembering the pain

I went back to read the post Staring into the Abyss.  I need to remember the worst pain I ever felt.

You see, I’m embarking on a new relationship.  It feels like a relationship.  Looks like a relationship.  The man I’m seeing called it a relationship.

Big Sis is warning me to be cautious.  Everyone else loves him.  I’m a bit confused.  Scared.  He could be a player.

He has emotional damage, but no more than the rest of us.  He has struggles.  Everyone does.  Nothing, so far, is a deal-breaker.

But I have to remember the heartbreak.  So I read the old post.

And I know that no one can hurt me the way you did.

So I know I can move on.

My heart is with you.  Always?  I certainly hope not.

Hope and Fear

I’m here in my bed at noon on a Sunday morning struggling to put my thoughts into words.  I don’t often have that problem.

Mr. Celebrity Lookalike left a couple of hours ago.  And yes, he does bear a striking resemblance to a famous broadcaster.  It’s almost uncanny.

It was my official birthday party last night, a joint party with several friends who have birthdays in the same month.  Of course you could never attend such a gathering.  My FWB didn’t even respond to my invitation.

I got a happy birthday call from Mr. Lookalike, who was in a city three states to the south looking after his investment property.  He asked about the party and then asked if I had male companionship for the event.  I acknowledged I did not.  He then, very boldly, very presumptuously, asked if he could be my date.  I enthusiastically accepted.

He drove 8 hours to get here — was running late due to a catastrophe at his rental — and drove straight to the bar.  He later accompanied Ms. Party Girl and me to another watering hole, then made sure she got home safely before driving me home.  He stayed here until late morning before heading home to unload his truckload of belongings that he had brought with him.

I can’t find anything wrong with him. It scares me.

He’s polite.  Gentlemanly.  Affectionate.  Attentive.  Fun.  Friendly.  He greeted all of my friends, introduced himself and shook their hands.  The men were wary.  The women were wowed.  He was a big hit.

For a few moments I thought I had found a flaw — he was deep in conversation with my friend at the bar, and I wasn’t really participating (I don’t even recall the subject at this point).  Just when I thought perhaps he could be being too attentive to her, he leaned over and kissed me.

OK, I’m smitten.

He seems stable, despite living in another state for a year while tending to his investment and now living with his very elderly parents.  By the way, his rental is located in one of my favorite cities.  He seems to be relatively recently divorced, but no apparent baggage.  He said he doesn’t even know where his ex lives.  He doesn’t belong to the opposite political party, but acknowledges he did for many years.

And despite his military aviation career…he’s a scientist.  His degree is in a science.  I don’t know why I was so surprised by the revelation.  It’s the type for which I am a magnet.

I know he has those traits that, while I’m drawn to them, can indicate issues.  Aviators, military officers, scientists…they all can be self-absorbed control freaks.  So the jury is out…but I’m cautiously optimistic.

I’m trying to just go with it and see where it leads.  I’m trying to keep my expectations low to avoid disappointment.  But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited about this turn of events.

My mind, however, tends to go negative.  What if he’s a player?  Has a serious girlfriend in the other city?  Takes a job far away? Doesn’t want a real relationship?

So far there is no evidence that points in those directions — although he is looking for a job.  Not terribly seriously, but eventually he will need occupation and might want some cash.  He complains about the climate here after living in warmer areas for his entire career.

He likes cats.  My cat likes him.  It must be meant to be.

Our connection

Our connection is more than an addiction.  It’s like you can see into my soul.

Your eyes.  Your touch.  Everything about you.

Loving you has been the best thing I’ve ever done.  No matter how it turns out and regardless of the pain, I’m glad I did it.

My life is complete when I’m with you.  Your arms are where I’m meant to be.  Your smile can make the world go away.

Living without you is going to be the hardest thing I will ever have to do.

My heart is with you.  Always.

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A New Start?

I went out for New Year’s Eve with my wild gal pal.  A bar with a band then a friend’s house party.  We both were in foul moods regarding men.  You had called me earlier in the afternoon.

Expecting an uneventful evening of being mostly bored, we headed out dressed to the nines.

As we sat at the bar in our local watering hole I noticed an attractive man on the other side of the large bar.  He caught my eye not just because he’s good looking, but because he bears a striking resemblance to a celebrity.  I asked the bartender if she knew him, and commented on his resemblance to the celebrity.  She, being a young woman who never watches the news, had no idea to whom I was referring.

One thing led to another and through the bartender our interest in one another was expressed and we struck up a conversation.  I thought nothing of it, other than it was mild flirtation.  However, as we were putting on our coats to leave, he rushed over to hand me his card.  I wrote my name and number on a napkin.  In a fit of what could be considered bad judgment, I also wrote the address of the party we were attending.

I told our host that a guy resembling a celebrity (who was on their big screen TV at that moment) might show up.  Next thing I know, the host is announcing that the celebrity has arrived.   It was funny as hell.

A lovely time was had by all.

At 9:30 a.m. today I got a text from him.  Yes, I think he likes me.  A lot.  I’m kind of liking him, too.  I’m just a little bit excited about it.  Although cautiously.

During the time I spent talking with him, some traits were obvious.  They reminded me of you, and some reminded me of Mr. IT, my FWB.  Obviously, I’m attracted to men who are tightly wound.  He’s retired military, too, so there’s that similarity to you.

Later today I finally took a sober look at his business card, which is from his last post before he retired.  He had scribbled his phone number on the back.  I take a look at his rank.  I groaned.

Explains a lot.  A whole lot.  I’m not terribly familiar with his branch’s rank system, but I’m pretty sure he outranks you.

I’m still cautiously optimistic.

Right now, my biggest fear is that he is married.  No ring, and he was with his son-in-law in the bar so it seems reasonable that he’s not a cheater, but you never know.

I like him.  And I always wanted to date a celebrity.

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