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youcalledmeshortstack · 1 year

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2nd Love / Roles Reversed

They say a person experiences three loves in a lifetime. The first one teaches, the second one hurts, and the third one is supposed to stick….This story is primarily about the second one.

Home life during my youth was pretty tumultuous. My parents were addicted to meth, we often found ourselves homeless, without power and food, and I lacked any sort of security. My father finally cleaned up his act when I was about 15. My mother said she was clean, but was not. Her drug use lead to my father issuing an ultimatum; get clean, or he would take me and my siblings away from her. Instead of my mother getting professional help, she quit cold turkey and gave herself a massive heart attack. Me, my parents, my two little brothers and my newborn sister were living with my grandmother in her tiny one-bedroom duplex when my mother had her heart attack.

I met the First when I was 15, shortly before my mom’s heart attack. He was the cute boy across the street. I’d find excuses to go outside every day to try and get his attention and eventually he noticed me. We started talking and flirting, and then he finally asked me out. As far as first loves go, I’d say I had a decent experience. The First was sweeter than most typical 15 year old boys, he brought me flowers from his garden, made me laugh, and we were absolutely inseparable for the better part of 3 years. The First and I went through some pretty hard times together, my mom’s heart attack and his parents’ divorce. We were stability for each other when we both desperately needed it.

The First was my first everything; my first real boyfriend, my first real kiss, and my first “first.” He broke up with me once, right before my high school graduation. I remember it hurting so badly. But, I lost a bit of weight, dated another boy very briefly, and it didn’t hurt anymore. Then The First started to come around once more. My mom warned me, said not to go back to him. He admitted he only was attracted to me again since I had lost weight. We were together for a few months, and had some really great times together, but ultimately, our relationship ended in heartbreak (mine). There were some rather mean moments after the breakup on both ends, but we ended up being friendly and I still talk to his mother. Even though the breakup with The First hurt like hell, it wasn’t earth shattering. Looking back, I think my pride was hurt more than anything because I let him do that to me twice. I swore I’d never give anyone a second chance again…..A promise to myself that I wish I would have kept.

The First ended our relationship for good in February 2001, just a few days before Valentine’s Day. I was sad, but think subconsciously I saw it coming. I started spending time with a friend, and she helped to bring me out of my shell. She was a fiery red-head who was very outspoken, and was so much fun to be around, something I really needed. She was a couple years older than me, and lived with two roommates, G and T. I had met them both briefly once before when The First and I had broken up the first time. When I started coming back around, G told my friend he thought I had gotten “hot.” G and I had a brief flirtation, but were just not in the same place in life. He and I maintained contact because he was my friend’s roommate, and we flirted constantly, but nothing more serious than a make-out session ever happened.

March 2001 was when I met The Second. I was 18 years and 3 months old. I’ll never forget the day I met him, as long as I live. There was I was, sitting at some damn party that I wasn’t even supposed to go to, minding my own fucking business, ready to go home, when he walks in. My eyes locked on him and I’ve never, to this very day, experienced an attraction like that before. He was drop dead gorgeous. I can still remember what he was wearing. I was so used to being ignored by guys, that I never in a million years would have guessed that a guy as hot as he was (is) would ever notice I was alive. But he did. Just prior to him walking in I had told my friend I was ready to go home, but when I saw him, I stayed a while longer, covertly checking him out. When I was leaving, he stopped me to ask if he knew me from somewhere. I had never seen him before in my life, I surely would have remembered him. He kept talking to me and although I don’t remember most of what we talked about that night, I do remember finding out he was 24, while he was chatting with someone else at the party. He was definitely out of my league. He was way too old for me. But that night, he didn’t ask how old I was, and there was no way I was gonna offer that information. I remember him asking for my number. I really doubted he would call, but was so fucking hopeful that he would. That night when I absolutely had to leave, he walked me to my car. When he saw my car, he realized where he had seen me before (I had a very beat up, old, very unique, bright red Buick.) He said that he had a friend who lived in the same apartment complex as my friend and he had noticed my long blonde hair as he was driving through the parking lot. Small world, I guess…

At the time, I only had a pager, my family didn’t have a house phone. Every damn time that fucking pager went off my heart damn near fell out of my ass. My friend thought it would be funny to send me a prank page and I went nuts because the number wasn’t a real number. I got several other texts from people I didn’t know over the next couple of days and think I had finally given up hope he would call me.

I was at my friend’s apartment when he did finally page me. When the number popped up, I thought for sure it was another wrong number, but because I’m such a hopeless dork, I prayed it was him. My heart was about to beat out of my chest as I dialed the number, and when I heard his voice on the phone, the butterflies in my stomach started going crazy. I could barely breathe I was so nervous to talk to him. He was actually asking me on a date!

I don’t remember the exact day we went out; I remember spending every last dollar I had on a dark blue denim jacket and a black scoop neck t-shirt to wear on our date, and then being petrified he would ask me to pay for my dinner. I had absolutely no money. I had him pick me up from my grandmother’s house because I was embarrassed about my house, and my family. He picked me up in his old Nissan, that turned out to not even really be his, it belonged to his parents….go figure. I remember how he smelled. Normally I don’t like cologne and sadly, in the two years I spent with him, I never even thought to ask what it was he wore that night. He just smelled good, like whatever cologne that was, and mint. He always had a tin of Altoids with him. I think it was on our first date I found out he still lived with his parents. I was a little surprised that a 24-year-old still lived at home. I also think I remember that’s when I found out that his mom was a super Mormon. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but it ended up causing some issues. During the drive, an Aerosmith song came on the radio, it was their new single “Jaded.” I commented that I loved Aerosmith and had since I was a little girl. I know we must have talked a lot, because I don’t remember any awkward silences, but I don’t really remember specific conversations that night. We went to dinner at Golden Corral in Fresno (Clovis?) then went walking around an outdoor shopping center and did some window shopping. He bought me a toe ring that night, which surprised me. I saw it in some surf shop and thought it was cute, it was maybe $5, but I was completely broke so I didn’t even try to buy it. But he got it for me. I don’t remember much of the drive home, but I do remember being sad the night was over and I was desperately worried that I hadn’t made a good impression. In all my nervousness I couldn’t remember if I thanked him for the date, or even told him if I had a good time. So before I went home, I stopped at a pay phone to call him and proceeded to word vomit that I had a good time and to tell him thanks for a nice evening. He joked “Yeah, what the hell was that about?” and said he had had a good time too and would call me soon.

I was so worried he wouldn’t call. I don’t even remember how long it took him to call me again, and I have absolutely no memory of what we did on our second date. I remember after the second date though. He had dropped me off at home and I had already put my PJ’s on (white silk shorts and an old ratty 49er’s shirt) when I noticed he had paged me. He paged me with all 9’s which meant he was outside. It had been several minutes since the page, so I figured he had probably left, but when I looked outside, he was still parked in front of my house. I ran out to his car, mortified that he was seeing me in my awful pajamas, but he didn’t say anything about my appearance, he said that he had gotten me a gift and forgot to give it to me. It was Aerosmith’s newest CD. I thought that was so sweet of him, I was shocked he had done something so nice for me on only our second date.

Our third date I remember a little more clearly. I remember thinking how gorgeous he looked that night. He was in faded blue jeans, a white t-shirt under a dark blue sweater vest, and he had his navy blue ball cap on that had an orange tiger paw and some Chinese symbol or something on it. I remember really noticing his eyes that night. I had never met anyone with green eyes before. I felt embarrassed any time I looked at him. He was just too pretty, and so far out of my league it was insane. The entire two years I was with him I just never got over how beautiful he was. That night he took me to dinner, but it was also the night of our first kiss. I remember him leaning in and my stomach lurched. I had made out with other guys, so I knew I wasn’t a bad kisser, but damn, he was just so gorgeous and he was so much older than me, what if I wasn’t as good as I hoped I was? What if he was turned off by me? I don’t think it was as passionate as he had hoped, but he seemed to blame himself for it, he said that he could, and would, do better next time. My stomach flipped when he said “next time.”

The dates and days and conversations bleed together for a while. My dad mentioned my age in front of him and I almost died. I thought for sure he was going to say I was too young and didn’t want to see me anymore, but he didn’t. He made a comment something a long the lines of “So you’re 18?”, but didn’t really seem too concerned. We went on more dates, started hanging out at my friend’s apartment or at my house. I don’t remember how long it took us to have sex. I remember a lot of making out and over-the-clothes stuff. I was going crazy I wanted him so badly, but he told me that he wanted to take it slow, that I was the first girl since his last relationship that he actually wanted to take his time with. That made me feel special….hopeful. Could he really have feelings for me? I hoped so.

Our first time was awful. It was awkward. Weird. My first time ever wasn’t even that bad. Maybe I should have known then that it was all wrong, that we weren’t meant to be together. I was so used to my first boyfriend wanting me to be quiet and stay still during sex. I had no clue how to have sex with anyone else. I was so insecure about my body, I was mortified for him to see me naked. I’ve always had self esteem issues, I hate my body and I always have. I just couldn’t understand or believe that he actually wanted to see me naked. I never believed him when he said he loved my body. So I spent that night desperately trying to hide it. The whole thing just kind of ended on a very awkward note. I’m honestly surprised he wanted to date me after that. I have only had sex that bad a few times, and after all the other times, I never talked to the guys again.

There were more bad encounters after that first one. I remember one where he said “I’m sorry I’m not Him” (referring to my first boyfriend.) That really hurt my feelings. I felt like I had disappointed him and that he was upset that I wasn’t like his ex. I think that was the first real sign of his true personality. He got so cold and distant with me that night. He knew I was young and inexperienced. He could have tried to teach me what he liked; he could have told me what he wanted me to do to him. I would have done anything he asked me to. But he just made me feel ashamed, like the whole thing went bad because of me.

Eventually we got better. A lot better. All I wanted was him. I wanted all of his time. I wanted all of him. I couldn’t keep my hands off of him. I couldn’t get enough of his face while we made love. Him looking at me while he thrusted into me turned me on more than anything. He commented one time while we were making love that he was trying to let me come first, but could feel me pulsing around him. When he said that I came instantly. Knowing my body could do that to him, make him feel that way, was a powerful realization.

Even though the sex got better, he still continued to make me feel like I wasn’t enough. I was so young and inexperienced, I believed him. I started to get really depressed and very insecure. I didn’t really know much about foreplay, my first boyfriend never really had any patience for it, so I was used to just getting right to it. With a new partner, I was desperately trying to learn how to please him, but in my two years with him, I’m not sure I ever really got it right. I just wasn’t confident enough with my body to make him happy. With my first boyfriend the lights were always off, he had no real interest in seeing me naked. With this new guy, he very much wanted to see me naked, wanted to watch me while he fucked me. I was too young to appreciate that back then. I’d give anything for it now.

My parents seemed somewhat accepting of my relationship. My mom even commented that she would rather he just stay the night than wake everyone up when he left in wee hours of the morning.

Our one-month anniversary would be coming up some time in the week of April 2001. He indicated he had a surprise for me. I faked being sick and played hooky from work. Apparently, I messed up his plans. He had wanted to buy a dozen roses and stand outside of my job and have customers hand the roses to me one-by-one. We hadn’t been together long enough for him to have known how much I hated being put on the spot and how much I hated surprises, so I’m glad I messed up his plans. He still got me roses and surprised me though. Because I only had a pager and my family didn’t have a house phone, he knew if he paged me I’d have to drive to a pay phone to call him. So he paged me, I went to a pay phone and he said he just wanted to say hi and see if I had any plans that day. I was a little hurt and confused because I was waiting for my surprise that he hinted at. He said he might come by later and pick me up so we could go do something together. We hung up and I drove home really disappointed. Had I gotten it all wrong? Was he all talk? But then when I walked in my front door, there was a huge bouquet of yellow roses with red tips. He had paged me to get me out of the house so he could sneak the flowers in. No one had ever gotten me a huge bouquet of flowers or surprised me like that. I was definitely more than a little smitten with him at this point. Only a month in and I was falling too fucking fast. I wish I had realized what a heartbreak I was in for.

Sometime in late April or early May 2001, I quit my fast food job and went to work as a receptionist at a vet’s office. That job ended up not working out and I either quit or got fired, my employer and I never really agreed on that part. They failed to put me on the schedule, but when I didn’t show up they said I quit….So now I had no job, and no money. I had taken on a couple bills and had no clue what I was going to do. Jobs weren’t very easy to come by back then. One morning I was going through my purse for some reason and noticed a wad of cash. I think there was like a hundred bucks. I don’t know that I’ve ever been more confused in my life. I honestly had no clue where that money came from. Did I forget about it? Did my parents give it to me? I knew my parents were broke, hell, they were in the process of getting evicted, how could they give me money? My mom suggested that maybe He had given it to me, but we hadn’t been dating that long so I told her there was no way it could have been him. Out of curiosity, when I did end up talking to him later that day I jokingly asked him if he had forgotten something in my purse. He said no, he left it there for me to find because he knew if he straight up tried to hand me the cash I wouldn’t have taken it from him. I couldn’t believe he did that for me. He also refused to ever let me pay him back. To this day I don’t think he realizes how much that cash saved me.

During this time frame was also when he told me that he was falling in love with me. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was. We were at my friend’s apartment, drinking and dancing one night. He and I were snuggled up with each other on the couch and were both a little tipsy when he told me he wanted to tell me something, but he wasn’t sure if he should do it when we were drinking because he wanted me to know he was serious. I honestly thought he was going to tell me he didn’t want to date me anymore. I could have shit myself. But I begged him to tell me whatever it was. He said “I’m falling in love with you.” My heart damn near leaped out of my throat. I don’t know if I had ever been happier than I was in that moment.

Being as young as I was, in my immature mind, I thought, this is the guy I’m gonna marry. He loves me. I figured since he was 24 years old, he would be looking for a real relationship, a real commitment. He’d made the comment early on how he wanted to take it slow with me, that he really liked me, and now he’s falling in love with me. Surely, we’d be together forever. I can’t believe now how naïve I was. I feel like Naïve should have been my name.

He eventually started to complain about having to wear protection. So I swallowed my pride and went to Planned Parenthood, where I endured a battery of STD Testing and my first ever pap smear. I was so scared and nervous they almost wouldn’t give me any birth control pills because my heart rate was so fast. All my tests came back clear, so I was happy about that.

The warnings started to come in at this point. None of my friends really liked him that much. I was told he was going to break my heart and I got really defensive. I was so blindly in love with him I ended up alienating the majority of my friends because I was always so defensive and miserable. He made me feel like shit, and my friends tried telling me that he was a schmuck, and instead of really taking a look at my situation, I stuck up for the asshole. I would have followed him into the depths of hell if I got to hold on to him for a bit longer.

Things started to get a little strained when my parents got evicted from our house. We all had to move back in with my grandmother in her little one-bedroom apartment. With him still living with his parents, and me not having any privacy, being alone was difficult. We had a few stolen moments in a car (he liked to park on the bike path under a well-lit bridge), and once we pooled our cash together to get a hotel room. But that’s when I started to notice him getting distant. He started to go out without me a lot. I was only 18 so I couldn’t go to the bars or clubs he went to. I wasn’t as jealous in those early months so I wasn’t too concerned initially. I knew that him going out without me was to be expected since I was too young. However, my problems began when he would fall off the face of the earth for a few days and I would get worried. Why didn’t he call me? Was he hurt somewhere? Then he would call, we would have a date, I would feel better, and then the cycle would start over again.

Sometime in July 2001 he invited me on a short trip with him and some of his college friends. One of the girls was going to go to school in Santa Barbara and needed to drive down there to do some registration stuff, so they were turning it into a trip to Six Flags and then camping on the beach in Santa Barbara. I was so excited. I found out later that his female friend was less than excited that I was going. She never did like me. Not even a little, she was barely polite to me and that’s being nice. She didn’t like that I was so young. I guess they had all wanted to go out to a club, but since I was there, they couldn’t. I felt like a little kid. The first night we ended up leaving Six Flags too late to get a spot on the beach. We all ended up crashing on the floor of someone’s apartment for the night. I remember being really disappointed because I had been looking forward to jumping his bones. The next day was awkward. His friends really didn’t want me around, no one really spoke to me, and I felt alone. Looking back, he really didn’t do much to make me feel better, he mainly stuck up for his friends and said I was too withdrawn and didn’t try to talk to them either. However, that night was probably the hottest sex I’ve ever had. We hadn’t been together in quite a while. I was faithful to him, I doubt now that he had been to me, but he seemed to really want me that night. We waited until it was barely dark and excused ourselves to go to bed. As soon as we got in the tent we started taking each other’s clothes off. I’d never wanted to fuck anyone as badly as I wanted to fuck him that night. Normally I was very shy, but the fact that we were in a tent with tons of people around us didn’t phase me a whole lot that night. I do remember that I whispered to him that it was really difficult to be quiet, and he said “Oh, they know exactly what we’re doing…..” Lord that made me hot. We didn't get much sleep that night.

The drive back from the trip is when I found out I got a job. A really good job for someone my age with no college experience. It was full time work that paid way above minimum wage. I’d even have health insurance. With the amount of money I would be making I would be able to afford to live on my own

It was also around this time that he asked me not to make any plans for August 8th. He wouldn’t tell me why and said it was a surprise. He told me to dress comfortable, but nice. I remember I had to borrow a pair of pants from my friend because I didn’t know what to wear and all I had were jeans. He took me to my first Aerosmith concert. I was on cloud nine! It was one of the best nights of my life. I actually did end up finding out what he was up to prior to our actual date, but pretended I didn’t know because he seemed so happy to surprise me. He was really really cute when he was excited about something, I just couldn’t disappoint him by telling him I knew what we were doing. No one’s smile makes my heart sing like his used to. I remember his laugh when he was really happy or excited about something. It made me happy to see him happy. His smile was just the greatest thing in the world.

I started my new job in the middle of August. While I was still in training, he came to have dinner with me one evening. We sat at a table outside in the corridor with some ladies I worked with and I noticed one of the women was very quiet and didn’t say much. After he left, and my break was over the girl came up to me and asked me his name. I told her and she said she thought she recognized him and when I told her his name she said he was also dating a friend of hers. My heart sank. I lied to her (and myself) and said we’d only been dating a short time and I wasn’t sure if he and I were exclusive. I don’t know why I lied to her, I should have been pissed off. He had told me he loved me, surely it was the girl who must be a liar, right? RIGHT? I never said a word to him about it because as long as I didn’t hear it from him, I could deny it. We had only been together about 5 months, and even though he had said he loved me, 5 months really isn’t that long. That girl continued giving me dirty looks for the remainder of our training program, and never spoke to me again.

Now that I had an income, I would regularly rent hotel rooms so that he and I could have privacy. It wasn’t just hormone driven; it was also for my sanity because sharing a bathroom with 6 other people was getting old. I wanted to take a shower without someone interrupting me because they had to pee. It was about this time I noticed he was going out a lot more than usual, and started to not want to stay with me in my hotel room saying he had to work late, or had other plans. I finally got upset enough that I called him out on it. We met for lunch one day and I told him I needed to know how he felt about me. His response was very serious and seemed entirely sincere. He said “I’m in love with you.” I told him that’s all I needed to hear, and at the time, it was all I needed to hear. Because I was stupid. I believed anything the fucker said to me.

One night, my boss made arrangements for my whole team to go to the movies together and significant others were welcomed to go as well. I got all dressed up in something I thought my guy would like and did my hair the way he liked it. When we got to the theater the ticket taker gave me a small bouquet of red roses and said he was told to give it to the prettiest girl he saw. I immediately turned bright red, I was so embarrassed. I asked the ticket taker who put him up to it, and he just shrugged his shoulders. Of course, it was my guy, but I’m gullible and a little slow on the uptake. I don’t even remember the movie we watched, I was so embarrassed about the roses. I think I may have even thrown them away because I really didn’t know they were from Him. After our date, and the realization that those roses had been from Him, I remember looking at him and thinking how lucky I was and just how much I loved him. When he dropped me off that night, I was sincerely overcome with how much I loved him, so after he gave me a kiss goodnight, and as he was walking away I said “I love you.” He stopped, turned around, and said “You can’t say it like that!” He was actually upset with me. He lectured me for a good few minutes on how “I love you” should only be said when it was really meant and not just as a goodbye. I tried desperately to explain to him that I meant those words from the bottom of my heart, but he just wouldn’t hear me. He was very upset when he left, and I just sat on my grandmother’s porch stunned and sad. Words had never cut so deep before. I didn’t know why I felt like I was in trouble. Why was it bad to tell my partner I loved them? I should have ended things right then and there, but I couldn’t. I rarely told him I loved him after that.

I thought once I moved out on my own things would get better. We would have our own space. I guess in my young naïve mind I thought he and I would play house. I pictured cooking dinner for him, having friends over for game nights, or parties. But none of that ever happened. He could have been a grown up with me. But he chose to go to bars instead because he knew I couldn’t go. Instead of introducing me to his friends and trying to start conversations to help me out, he just let me sit by myself, knowing how shy I was, and then getting mad at me for being shy, and using that as the excuse as to why he never took me around his friends. It was always a criticism with him. I was never enough of most things, and too much of other things.

In November 2001, shortly before my 19th birthday, I got the keys to my very first apartment. I really felt like a grown up. He spent the first night in my apartment with me, I didn’t have any furniture yet so we slept on the floor by the heater to keep warm. After that first night, getting him to stay with me was nearly impossible. He’d always say he didn’t want to explain where he was to his mother, or he had to work, or he had class early in the morning. It was one excuse after another. I was too afraid to lose him to stand my ground. He never even bothered to introduce me to his mother. I met his dad one time in passing and I don’t even think I was introduced as a girlfriend, just a friend. I couldn’t understand why my feelings didn’t matter. I still don’t understand it. Once, I casually made a comment about the possibility of him moving in with me and he immediately dismissed the idea saying that he didn’t think it was a good idea for us to spend that much time together. When the apartment next door to me became available I suggested he take it, the rent was cheap and the neighborhood was okay. He said it was too similar to living together and didn’t like that idea. Eventually I stopped bringing up long term commitment or living arrangements because every time we discussed those subjects he broke my heart.

One would think that a 24 year old would have been happy that I was acting like an adult. I had a good job, a car, and depended on no one else to support myself. He worked part-time as a waiter, lived with his parents, and just wanted to party every weekend. I wanted an actual grown-up relationship. I wanted communication, intimacy, trust, and a commitment. He was unable to provide any of that and somehow made me feel like it was my fault things weren’t working out. What else was I supposed to want from someone who told me he loved me? Is that not the direction I was supposed to want to go? Maybe he thought that because I was so young, I wouldn’t want that kind of commitment. That I would be fine with him walking all over me and partying every weekend without me. That I would just always be waiting in the wings for him to grace me with his presence. Well guess again buddy….you told me you loved me! You told me that you were IN LOVE with me. Why wouldn’t I want some kind of hope of long-term commitment? Instead, I get ridiculed at the mere mention of us moving in together. God forbid I ask him to stay the night with me. His mommy might get upset. I wanted to scream at him "Then grow the fuck up and move out of her house!" He could have lived with me, he could have gotten his own apartment, he could have gotten roommates. He could have done SOMETHING to show he really loved me, and that he was a grown man, but he never did.

And the few times I did cook for him, he was very critical. I didn’t do something right, the seasoning was off, or his mom’s was better. I was crushed. I tried so hard. One time I made him brownies because he said they were his favorite, and then he got pissy when I didn’t leave any batter in the bowl for him to eat. He actually scolded me for it. Hell, I couldn’t even order pizza correctly. I ordered pizza for myself one time, I think he and I had only been dating a month or two, and I told him I had gotten pizza and he could come over and have some if he wanted. It was the very first time I had ever ordered pizza for myself, so I ordered my favorite, which back then was Italian sausage, olives and extra cheese. He came over, opened the lid and said “What the hell is this?” And refused to eat any. He could have asked what kind of pizza I ordered before he came over. We hadn’t been dating that long, I didn’t know what toppings he liked. I probably would have ordered anchovies if I thought he liked them because I was always trying so hard to do things right.

Things between us were not great, but I ignored it. I was so much in love with him I figured anything wrong in our relationship was entirely my fault. I was too jealous, too crazy, too shy, too introverted. Meanwhile, he refused to answer calls or texts while he was with me and was very private about his phone. Once he left his phone at my apartment while he ran to the store and out of sheer paranoia and desperation, I read his text messages. It appeared that he was good about deleting them but there were a few new unread ones from a female that seemed very intimate. Nothing sexual, but also not anything you would text to just a friend. I never told him I looked at his phone, I just put it back where it was and kept my heartbreak to myself. I know that the invasion of his privacy was not okay, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something from me.

As the months went by his distance from me grew. The rare occasions he would spend time with me usually consisted of him criticizing me in some way. My self-esteem was at an all-time low. I felt ashamed of myself. I believed every word he said about me. I wanted to be the happy-go-lucky, out-going girl he wanted me to be. But that’s just not who I was back then, and it’s still not who I am today. I guess he thought that because we met at a party that I was more out-going than I actually was. He never cared to notice that I was only out-going around people I was comfortable with. But put me in a room full of people that I don’t know and I turn into a wallflower.

Around this time I went to the doctor for a physical. She insisted on making me get another pap and another set of STD tests. A few days later she called and asked me to come in. I told her I was on my way to work and asked what was wrong because I couldn’t make it into her office that morning. She told me I had chlamydia, and I told her that I had no clue what that was. She told me it was an STD. I had only been with him since my first boyfriend. And I had been tested for STD’s less than a year before and those tests came back clear. I had proof he cheated on me, and gave me an STD, and he still denied it. I stupidly believed him and agreed Planned Parenthood must have just missed it in my last set of tests. His ability to manipulate me was unbelievable. He could tell me the world was flat and that unicorns were real and I would have believed him.

In March 2002, for our one-year anniversary, he bought me a diamond heart pendant. He claimed I was the first girl he had ever bought diamonds for. I wore it almost every day. I showed it off to anyone who would pay attention to me. I thought for sure this was proof that he loved me and I was crazy for doubting his affections for me. Even looking back now I can’t figure out what his end-game was. Maybe he was confused? Why put me through so much, knowing I wasn’t what he wanted or needed?

On May 2nd, my mom died. I was devastated. He began to spend more time with me and was more attentive. I was so happy he seemed to be coming back around. It didn’t last though. He quickly became distant again and things just felt off. Admittedly I became very jealous. I went as far as to learn how to covertly check his voicemail from my phone, leaving no trace that I had done so. That’s when my fears came to life. He was talking to other girls. How far they had gone, I had no clue, but why would a female call a guy at 4:30 in the morning just to say good night? I was too embarrassed to admit what I had done, so my only option was to keep my mouth shut. I’m still ashamed at my actions, for invading his privacy like that, and I’m not sure my jealousy is a good enough excuse for what I did.

The weekend of May 19th, 2002, he took me to Bay to Breakers in SF. I was so excited to go. Initially he also seemed excited that I was going. He even had a t-shirt made with my mom’s picture on it as a memorial and planned to wear it while he ran the marathon. I was very touched by the sentiment. That trip was an absolute fucking nightmare. Once again, I embarrassed him. He took me to San Francisco when I was 19 years old. He was 25 by this time. His plan was for him to run the marathon with his friends and I was to meet them at the finish line. But did he do any research on bus schedules or taxis to get me to the finish line? Nope. Didn’t care how I got there. When my anxiety got out of control and I started crying, his female friend got mad at me and suggested that I shouldn’t have even come on the trip. We finally got it sorted out, and I got on the right buses to make it to the finish line in time, but what kind of man leaves his 19 year old girlfriend alone in San Francisco? Sure, technically I was an adult, but I had never been alone in a big city before. He knew that. He also knew that I didn’t have a computer and didn’t know my way around San Francisco. He had done Bay to Breakers for several years in a row at this point, and had access to a computer. He could have helped me, but instead he let me struggle and then made me feel bad about it. How hard would it have been for him to get the information ahead of time so that he was sure I would be able to get where I needed to go safely? Just another thing, in a long line of things, that show me now what I couldn’t or wouldn’t see back then. He never loved me.

It continued to get worse between us. He went as far as to mention that we should take a break, but he knew I didn’t really believe in second chances and he didn’t want to lose me. We stayed together but the relationship was very strained. Sometime in September 2002, we went to a movie and on the drive there he barely said a word to me, and he didn’t attempt to touch me or hold my hand during the entirety of the movie, which was out of character for him. I mentioned that to him on my way to drop him back off at his house, and he said he thought he’d leave me alone because he knew I had a crush on the main character and wanted me to enjoy the movie. I didn’t buy it. When we got to his house, I told him he could have his break. I asked if he wanted to date other people, or if the break was truly just to get some space. He told me that he didn’t want to date anyone else and just needed time to think. He actually cried, so I believed every bullshit line he fed me that night. I cried all night and didn’t go to work the next day. My heart was shattered. He continued to text me and keep in somewhat regular contact, but nothing in person. My depression became so bad I was afraid to be home alone and I started spending as much time as I could with my aunt or grandmother so that my mind was occupied. I had long since alienated all my friends because I was so defensive about my relationship.

As embarrassed as I am by my actions now, I continued to check his voicemail. One night he got a message from a girl, with whom I share a first name, stating that she felt things were moving too fast, and she didn’t know if she wanted anything serious because she was moving away. I don’t think I had ever felt worse pain. My world was crashing down around me. I realize we were taking time apart from each other, but he constantly insisted he was not dating anyone else. When I got the courage to confront him (although not how I knew) he denied it. He refused to admit he knew who the girl was, and once again made me feel insane. I knew he was lying, and I just couldn’t bring myself to tell the truth and tell him I heard the voicemail. I asked for my house key back and he said he didn’t want to give it back, that he still wanted to try to work things out, and having my key helped him “stay strong.” I idiotically believed he kept the key because still loved me, and not as a manipulation tactic to keep me waiting in the wings for when he wanted to play with me again.

I did finally confess to him that I had been checking his voicemails and knew he was lying about the girl with my same name. This forced him to acknowledge she was the reason he had wanted the break. He told me the first time he saw her was while he was on a lunch date with me. He thought she was attractive and when he saw her a few days later at the grocery store he had gone up to her and asked for her number.

Finding out that he had a fling with a girl that had the same name as me, a girl he first saw WHILE ON A FUCKING DATE WITH ME, was soul crushing. And he tried to lie about it. If I hadn’t known how to check his voicemail, I would have never known about the girl. He never would have told me. When she moved away, he would have come back to me until the next one came along. Which is what he did anyway. He never did tell me exactly what happened between them. He said they made out, but I’m sure he was lying, since he lied about pretty much everything else. I can’t imagine a girl saying things were moving too fast after just making out with a guy. I certainly never have. Maybe he told the truth, but probably not. It’s just the sheer audacity that he fucking saw her for the first time while he was on a date with me, HIS FUCKING GIRLFRIEND.

I don’t exactly remember how long we stayed separated, but eventually we got back together. Our relationship remained tense and he stayed distant.

For Valentine’s Day in 2003 I got him a Polaroid Camera and let him take pictures of me naked. My hope in letting him do that was that maybe he would stop cheating on me, and that he would look at those pictures when he wasn’t physically with me and want me the way I wanted him. I was so, so young, and so fucking naïve.

We celebrated our 2nd anniversary in March 2003 and he bought me another diamond heart pendant. He seemed sincere when he gave it to me and told me he loved me, but everything still felt wrong.

We didn’t last much longer. I don’t remember exactly when he broke up with me but I believe it was in late April or early May of that year. I know it was around that time because it was before Bay to Breakers and he really didn’t want me to go. I remember the painful encounter of him coming to my apartment to get his things. I asked for the Polaroids back, and he did give them back, but not before telling me he didn’t need the originals anyway because he had scanned them onto his computer. I felt cheap. It was almost like an assault. He could look at me whenever he wanted, but I couldn’t look at him anymore. He had the audacity to say he hoped we could remain friends. What the fuck? This man was breaking me and wanted to be my friend? Was he stupid? He looked over his things and asked where an afghan was that I had crocheted for him. I told him I was keeping it because I didn’t think he would want it. He never even bothered to take it home, probably so his mother wouldn’t ask where it came from. Why did he want it now? He said he really liked the blanket, and I had made it for him, so he would like to take it. I gave in and got it out of my closet and let him take it. I’m sure it ended up in the trash.

Once he told me about giving a ride home from a party to a girl who lived a block away from him and he even showed me where she lived. One night very soon after he left me, I had this feeling that he was with her. I couldn’t explain the feeling if I tried. I just knew he was with her. He never once said anything to me that suggested she was more than an acquaintance, but I felt in my gut he was with her. So at 4 in the morning, I drove by her house. His Jeep was parked out front. He had already broken up with me, so the rage that followed was unjustified, but I felt it just the same. One of my chief complaints throughout our entire relationship was that he wouldn’t spend the night at my house. Yet we’re apart for less than a month and he’s already staying the night at another girl’s house? I called him on it. I don’t remember what he said exactly. He tried to say he just crashed at her house and that nothing happened. But I’d heard that before. I continued to listen to his voicemail for a little while after we broke up. I finally admitted this to him and I asked if he would be willing to change his password so that I couldn’t anymore. He agreed. At least then I wouldn’t have proof that he was out living his life ignorant to the fact I was heartbroken, and I would no longer have the option to invade his privacy.

I was utterly and completely broken, I sobbed until I had no voice left. I refused to sleep in my apartment alone, and regularly stayed on my grandmother’s couch and had to take massive amounts of sleep aids just to get a couple hours of sleep. I barely ate, and missed so much work that I almost lost my job. I even had to move out of my apartment and back in with my grandmother, because I couldn’t afford my rent anymore due to not working. I had lost all my friends because I was so engrossed in my relationship with him and had been so consumed by jealousy that I was hard to be around. I was so alone. I began seeking relationships online with anyone who would give me attention.

I agreed to a date with someone. His profile photo seemed like he was decent looking, however, when I met him in person, I realized he looked nothing like his profile picture and I was not at all attracted to him. But he seemed nice enough, he had a job, and didn’t live with his parents. He lived with roommates, so it was a relief that at least I wasn’t being hidden from anyone. The new guy and I dated for a month or so, and I spent a lot of time at his house with him and his roommates trying to forget how depressed I was.

When I was trying to move on after the break up, The Ex saw me out late one night and decided to text me. Why couldn’t he just let me be? Every time he would contact me my heart dropped. Why did he need to know what I was up to? He left me. Then when he finds out I’m going out and actually having a good time, he decides we should meet up and have coffee or something. Then he asked me to dinner. Then we went to the movies. Then we went to dinner again. Then he came over and fucked me. Then we went to Six Flags together and he got us a hotel room where he fucked me again, and in the morning when I woke up, he was trying to use my camera phone to take a picture of my tits while I was asleep. Like, what???!!! And during those times, unbeknownst to me, he was with the girl he ended up marrying. I wonder if she ever knew he was still fucking me. I bet she didn’t.

I knew it was over for sure when we took the trip to Six Flags together. He made me feel bad the entire trip. It was in mid-August 2003 when we went and it was extremely hot. He got frustrated with me when I was tired or thirsty and commented on how he wished he had someone who could run around the park with him and not need so many breaks. That night when we were driving home I fell asleep. I remember him stopping for gas and he asked me to drive because he was tired. I was being an asshole and told him I couldn’t because I was too sleepy. That was a dick move, I should have driven the rest of the way home, and I don’t have a valid excuse for why I refused, other than trying to get back at him for being such an ass to me all day. When we finally got back home he gave me a kiss on the forehead and said he would call me later. He didn’t. That trip was the last time I ever saw him in person. We continued to chat online, every ounce of me hoping he’d come back. But I soon learned he had been seeing someone else for several months, and he told me the reason he had agreed to the Six Flags trip was to see if he still had feelings for me, or if he wanted to be with the new girl.

He was beautiful. He is still beautiful. I see a picture of him online and still get breathless remembering when he looked at me with those amazing green eyes, when we would make eye contact while we were making love. I get breathless, and sick, and dizzy remembering those same green eyes when I no longer saw one single shred of emotion in them.

I will never as long as I live understand why. I was 18 fucking years old. He was a grown man. Did he really have no idea that I could fall in love with him as hard as I did? I feel like I let him ruin me. I just sat back and let it happen. I never stood up for myself, I just accepted all his criticisms and took the blame for all of it.

I’m not pretending I’m a total victim. I was just as toxic as he was. I was very young and naïve and my jealousy got the best of me. Checking his voicemails was borderline psychotic, but I didn’t know how else to get the truth. He wouldn’t introduce me to his family, his friends didn’t like me, no one was on my side. I could feel in my very core that he was lying to me and he denied it every step of the way. But you know what? I was fucking right. Always trust your gut. At least he taught me that much.

I’ve never been an easy person to love and I’m very aware of that fact. I knew in my gut that he would only be mine temporarily and that drove me to the brink of madness. He frequently let me know he was not serious about a commitment with me. He’d make comments he thought were funny, saying things like I’d make a good first wife. I laughed on the outside, but it broke my heart whenever he said those things. I wish I would have really listened to him. I guess he was being honest, and trying to tell me the truth all a long and I just didn’t get it.

I truly don’t remember him ever apologizing or accepting any responsibility in our break up – correction - his - break up. I remember him placing it all squarely on me. I was too jealous, too clingy, too insecure, not confident enough, too introverted, not spontaneous enough, not energetic enough. But instead of trying to help me through those issues, he left me. And that would have been fine, if he had just made a clean break, cut off all contact, but he didn’t. He strung me along for MONTHS. Didn’t tell me when he got engaged, I didn’t even know he was getting married, yet he was still offering me his “services.” What. The. Actual. Fuck???

After I had been dating my, now husband, for about 8 or 9 months, and he and I had been living together for a bit, I stupidly confessed to the Ex that I had not yet been intimate with my new partner, and I was a little sexually frustrated. That’s when the Ex offered his “services” to me. I asked about his girlfriend and his reply was that she wasn’t the boss of him, and said that besides, I was way sexier than her, but she was really smart. What kind of bullshit statement was that? I didn’t even realize until now he basically said I was pretty, but dumb. That was the last conversation I ever had with him. No way was I going to cheat on my partner, not with a guy who had a girlfriend and would just break me all over again. That last conversation was had on AOL Instant Messenger. I copied and pasted the entire conversation and burned it onto a CD as proof he said what he did. I’ve long since lost that CD, but when I had it, I would read that statement over and over. I thought it was a compliment at the time because he said I was sexy. That’s how fucked up in the head I am.

I knew when he talked about his then girlfriend, fiancé, wife, whatever the fuck she was, that she was too good for him. He wasn’t really happy. He complained about her crying for no reason one time. I hope she was the one who left him, but I suspect it was probably the other way around seeing as the woman he is with now appears to be a coworker.

I’m not proud to admit I looked at his social media accounts. I’m even more embarrassed that I looked at his ex-wife’s. (Clarification: I did not hack their accounts, simply viewed their public profiles) I saw the pictures she posted of him, he never looked happy. Even a photo of after the birth of their first son, he looked resentful. I realize it might have been a long labor, and they were probably exhausted, but I knew him well enough to know what resentment looked like in his eyes. He had given that very look to me numerous times. Later, when their son was a little bit older, his wife posted a picture of the baby, with Him in the background, again, looking resentful. I never once saw a photo that she posted where he looked like a loving husband or father. So if I was so “sexy” what did she have that I didn’t? Was it because she was older? Was it really because he thought I was stupid and couldn’t hold a conversation? She got to meet his family. She got to really be introduced to his friends. Looking back, maybe I was an embarrassment. I was really young. I think he just saw long blonde hair and big tits and that’s all I was good for. He probably thought of me as a kid, someone not worthy of the empty words he spoke to me, someone to pass time with until someone better came a long.

I’m also very ashamed of the fact that I still try to keep up with what he’s doing. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t know. I shouldn’t know that he got married, had 2 sons, got divorced and has been with another woman for years now. I shouldn’t know that she’s gorgeous and appears to be the type of woman he said he wanted me to be. I shouldn’t know any of that. But I do. And it fucking hurts. I don’t know how to cleanse myself of him. I have tried for 20 fucking years with no luck. I can go months without even thinking of him, but then my brain fucks everything up and I dream about him. I dream about him coming back, about him making love to me, about him kissing me, holding me, loving me. Then I wake up and re-live the heartbreak all over again like some sick fucking joke.

I wish I knew what keeps me from finally moving on. I can see clear as day, how poorly we treated each other. I can see how he manipulated and gaslit me. I was horrible too, at times. I was hurt and confused and I lashed out to get his attention any way I could. By the end I was flat out desperate to get him back. I faked being suicidal for fuck’s sake. I did that because I remember him telling me about his first girlfriend doing that to him. So I thought if it worked for her, it might work for me too. My desperate actions, especially at the end of our relationship are inexcusable. I know that now. I admit that. I admitted it even back then and apologized for it. He never has.

One thing I will never understand, and maybe this is part of the reason I can’t move on, is why he would never tell me the truth. I truly believe it would have helped me get over him. If I knew the extent of just how many times he cheated on me. How many times he lied to me. Did he ever have any real feelings for me at all? Or was he just telling me what I wanted to hear so he could keep fucking me? I really feel that he only ever saw my tits. I bought an outfit once, I felt really confident in it. It was a blue, sweater-like mock turtle neck and a pair of form fitting capri jeans. I LOVED that outfit. I loved to pair it with the gold/diamond heart pendent he had gotten me for our first anniversary. He hated that outfit and made sure I knew it. He said it “hid” everything. So on one hand, he was telling me he wanted me to be more confident, but then when I was, I did it wrong. I did almost everything wrong.

I just don’t know why he stayed for over two years. Two years may seem like such an insignificant amount of time to most people, but to someone as young as I was, it was a long time. I thought it meant he was serious about me. I stupidly believed he would marry me one day, even though his actions and even his words assured me he would not. What pleasure, other than sex, did he get from our relationship? It’s apparent that I never made him happy. Was the sex really that good? Did my body turn him on that much? Was it because I was so desperate and willing to wait for him? Was it so he knew he was never truly alone? That he always had someone to call when he was lonely? I just can’t figure it out. And I’m afraid that until I have the answers to these questions, I’m doomed to repeat this fucking cycle until the day I die.

Two of the most heartbreaking years of my life. I know, I know, I’m being dramatic. Probably too much so. But this is me, this is how I really feel on the inside. I’ve never been able to really vent to anyone. I’m too ashamed to admit all of this to another person. How fucked up am I that I still have feelings for someone I dated for a very short amount of time 20 years ago?

I’m not sure any amount of therapy will ever be able to fix me. What I need is answers. Answers I’ll never get. That time period did not mean to him what it meant to me. His memories of me are gone by now. For him, I’m a shadow in a dust covered corner of his mind. I’d really like to know the last time I actually crossed his mind. Was it a good thought? A bad thought? Was he telling someone how crazy I was? How insecure and jealous and immature I acted? Has he ever said anything nice about me to anyone? I doubt it. I’m sure after our last conversation on AOL 17 years ago he never really thought about me again. He finally got rid of me. But how do I get rid of him?

I realize how pathetic I am. I really do. But it doesn’t stop me from feeling these feelings. Believe me, if I could turn them off, I would in a heartbeat. I may also seem to be overly exaggerating my feelings for him, but I can assure you, I am not. I’ve had other relationships, I’ve known other love, nothing ever compared to the love I feel toward him. I also know that I’m the one who broke my own heart, by not being stronger, more mature.

I really don’t intend to make him seem like a monster. I’m sure that whoever he is with now has a better version of him. At least for her sake, I hope she does. I need to come to terms with the fact that he was never mine, we weren’t good together. He never loved me. Marriage, family, and kids were not our future together. Why he made me believe he loved me is beyond me. One of my life’s greatest mysteries. And I will spend the rest of my years wondering why. I’m sure it was just as horrible for him as it was for me if I’m being honest. I’m sure he saw all my flaws and was genuinely upset by them. I know he was frustrated. But my real question is, why stay? Both of us are to blame for that one. I wish I would have been mature enough to realize that our relationship was toxic and borderline abusive, I wish that he had been honest enough to admit to the damage he was inflicting upon me at such a young age. I wish that it had been me. I wish that it had been us. Too many wishes and no genie.

If I could change one thing about my life, it would be him. As long as I knew it wouldn’t alter any other thing in my life as it is now, other than the pain I feel, I would go back in time and miss that damn party. I would never have met him. To him, I would have just been the girl with the long blonde hair that drove the bright red Buick, but to me, he would be nothing. I would have been his “what if.” The roles reversed.

#heartbreak #second love #short story #sad ending #heartbroken #why can’t i move on #why can’t it be me #please find this #please find me #please give me answers #why am i so stupid #why am i like this #shortstack

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