There Is an Excuse
Thursday night, as all mistakes start, had a choice. This is the end of February during my senior year, the very last day of such a forsaken month. About six hours after one of my beloved club's biweekly meetings, I had learned something new from my academic league club, as I usually do.
In my relationships, I have one rule, always and only. One rule: communicate everything, no matter how bad, how rude, how judgemental, how distasteful, how uncomfortable. That's all I ever ask. If you want to sleep with someone else, let me know. Let me know so I can make sure they know who I am and what I am. If you don't like the way I say something, let me know so I know how to better speak with you. If you don't appreciate some of the things I do, let me know why so we can determine whether I'm uneducated or you're misplacing activism. I do this for all my relationships, romantic and not, potential or not. This particular relationship just happened to be romantic at the time, and it had lots of potential, but the contributions were unbalanced, to say the least.
But again, my one rule revolved around communication. To me, everything else is negotiable, and that prospect seemed to satisfy everyone involved at the time. When I learned by accident through one of my club's members that this particular individual had been advancing on a minor a year younger than me, I felt all kinds of flavors of disrespect. The most bitter detail was that many people knew (read: friends) and hadn't mentioned it to me because they were told that I was aware of it all, when in fact I was not. He had not only violated the singular rule I had set very clearly, very explicitly, but he also lied about it to my friends (and other relevants) and made them look bad.
My previous relationship felt a similar ending, in the sense that both had the same cheating and lying and manipulating my friends aspects, but two very different situations. Did that make it sting a little more? yes. The amount of disrespect I felt was deep, but admittedly short-lived. The anger and disrespect were intensified with shock from the generous addition of my friends knowing. And to be clear, I didn't fault anyone who knew about what was happening. It's not their fault they didn't speak up because they were lied to. Those friends are still my friends, and I have no ill will with any of them.
I had a choice to make. I confront, or not to confront. If I confronted, like my instinct and rational mind told me to, I would get it out of the way immediately. and if I didn't?
Well, that's why I did. I started with a simple question: What happened with zxzx?
The response was brief: What do you mean? So I answered very clearly, as communication should always go: What happened with zxzx in November and what's it like now? He wasn't going to lie to me now. He said it as plainly as I had asked. and like an afterthought, he added that he wanted to tell me so bad but I was too busy to give him the time of day. "Like right now? Like I'm doing right now in the middle of a project due at midnight?" And I didn't press him like other people would have. I let him approach it at his own pace, to see what he would say when he's not pressured. Because we both knew I'd already made up my mind, and anything he could say already had a counter-argument he had no objection to. Some things I don't need to hear to be sure about.
you were just too busy. For a five minute conversation?
But it wouldn't have felt like a conversation, or like you're listening to me. I don't have six hours to leave my phone on speaker in the busiest year of my academic career. dumbass
I really wanted to talk to you abt it, I really did. If you really wanted to, you would have.
I've been really, really guilty about it. For 3, almost 4 months? aww. :(
I know you're really busy with school and work and your career. I was just looking out for both our reputations. So making me look stupid to everyone I know and proving yourself to be a predator and manipulator was the only way to protect our reputations?
I really wanted to tell you and the guilt has been eating me up inside. I just didn't want to bother you. Bother me? Didn't want to bother me? Am I unbothered now? Will I ever be unbothered by this relationship ever again? dumbass
I had no energy, not even angry energy. The disdain felt worse than rage anyway. Disdain is already disconnected, already vindictive, already decided that the time and emotion it takes isn't worth the grime below my shoes. If I was angry, hurt, or otherwise upset, it wasn't because I was emotionally invested in something that was trash. It was because my reputation and my ego were damaged beyond repair, and I put years of hard work into those just to have an ugly sticker on the Bentley. The next day was March 1. It would have been a nine-month anniversary if it wasn't compromised and left to rot at the five-month mark.
To this day, I place all the blame on him and his choices. And there's no argument that can convince me otherwise. I'm not at fault for someone's conscious, compulsive, repetitive choices to deceive and make bad choices. But did I neglect him and his time? Did I somehow show him I didn't value his time and energy in favor of other people and activities? Did I fail to reciprocate the same energy he put into me?
Yes. And I didn't care then, I don't care now. If it makes me a bad girlfriend, that's still an opinion and I can live with it. I don't care that I prioritized my friends and my work over some empty conversations with questions that promoted conversations where I was primarily a listener. I don't care that someone who overanalyzes me somehow concluded that I was uninterested because of their place in my priority list. Someone else's insecurity is not my responsibility, and I treat it like it is: a choice. I don't care that his flirting and his half-jokes were always shot down because I sent the clear message I'm uninterested in that sort of thing. I'm sorry "no" doesn't register until I hurt your ego with it. I don't care about how guilty you felt, or how concerned you were with not bothering me or popping up randomly. If your desire to stay in your comfort zone and out of the "hey, I don't wanna bother you but this is important" zone, then you weren't really all that guilty now were you? I'll run that by one more time.
If your comfort wins over your guilt, you weren't guilty enough for me to care or for it to matter. If you were serious about forgiveness, about accountability, about honesty and honor, it wouldn't have taken four months, a slip of someone else's tongue, and the other person initiating the conversation for you to speak up. I looked at it from every angle and I can't justify any of the ones in your favor. I was neglectful, yes, and so I am partially responsible for the distance that created. I still, to this day and forever forward, do not take any responsibility for what became the end to something I was fully invested in. I don't care about what happened to you afterwards. I don't care if you relapsed or entered a really dark time or whatever the fuck. I cut my investments with you March 1, 2019. Sucks to suck dick, but you'll never be ready for a love and a relationship meant to last if you're not going to honor and respect boundaries. If some time apart and not seeing each other encourages you to do single people things, stay single.
You're not being loved and coveted the way you wish you were because you haven't shown you deserve that shit. It's not your place to make decisions for other people, no matter what your intentions are. It's not your place to protect anyone who doesn't want to be protected. It was easy for me because I read you better than you thought I could.
How did I know you were going to oust yourself years before you did it?
I walk all over whatever that was. I'm comfortable talking about it, because I wasn't at fault. It's just another story I tell at parties now. Why? To laugh at, and to feed the other relationships I have with other people. The friends you lied to to cover your tracks are still my friends. Surprised? You shouldn't be. Even the girl you coerced? On good terms.
Congratulations on the preservation of your reputation. Everyone knew, but I tried to disprove it. That was a stupid teenager mistake.
