I Know, I Know . . . I Said I Was Done

WHY, for crying out loud, am I still occasionally experiencing waves of sadness over the loss of a man who, when you get right down to it, proved himself emphatically to NOT be the type of man I would actually want to be with?! My brain is a fully functioning one, and intellectually I am over it, over him. But my emotional side has other ideas, and is apparently having a grand old time gracing me with bouts of weepiness and making me generally achy in the heart region. It is really quite annoying. I mean, if I had to make a list of things that would keep me from getting involved with someone, “cheats on pregnant wife” would be be WAY up there! Really high, and right next to “depraved indifference to the feelings of clueless ‘mistress’ and previously mentioned, cheated-upon, pregnant wife”.

So again, I’m asking . . . what the fuck is wrong with me that I still get sad about this!?!?! I do NOT want this man, or anyone of his ilk. I’m going to plead hormones. Does that make any sense? Or maybe it’s intermittent  bursts of insanity. I don’t know. My cousin’s theory is that he represents something that I wish I had. As in, it’s not him, it’s the idea of him. Which makes as much sense as anything, I suppose. It’s definitely not him specifically, I do know that. At least not anymore. And since he was clearly actively lying to me the entire time we were together, he was also likely lying in regards to his perceived “perfect-for-me” quality. So maybe it’s just as simple as I viewed him as perfect for me, due in whatever parts to both his skills in lying and my need to believe in the existence of a mythical “perfect” man.

Ok, that kind of makes sense. I’m really just still sad over the loss of said mythical, “perfect” man. Ha. Gosh, I feel so much better now!

*sigh*

It’s OK To Feel The Way I Feel

Maybe there are certain things that are fine to be sad about, fine to mourn, and certain things that are not. I don’t know exactly, I’m more trying to explore a thought here. Is it possible to separate what happened from the person who caused it? Is it possible to have a broken heart, to have a spirit and a soul which need time to heal, time to grieve, and yet NOT give more attention than required to the person who caused my pain?

I think I’m struggling with whether the difficulties I am having are giving too much, I’m not sure of the exact word I’m looking for here . . . power, significance, leverage to him. Him being a person who perhaps or even definitely does not deserve my care, my time, my emotional outlay. Although, it’s like there are two versions of him. The version I knew and loved, who inexplicably morphed into the cheating asshole version who lied to me, lied to his wife, generally behaved in a despicable manner. It’s like the evil him rose up and killed the him I loved, the him that was kind, considerate, funny, smart, passionate and loving. The man I loved no longer exists.  And yes, I know some would say that the man I loved never actually existed in the first place, simply because he was actively lying and omitting, but I don’t know that I agree with that. Reality is subjective. I believed him, loved him, trusted and respected him, and he existed in my life, in my version of reality. I think that is a reasonable thing to mourn.

Again, I’m not exactly sure what, if anything, I’m going for here. Just an aimless exploration of my current thoughts, I suppose.

 

Disillusionment

Apparently while I slept, my subconscious began to entertain the possibility that he is simply not a good person. That makes me sad. As a matter of fact, I’m just kind of sad in general this morning. Although, it seems to be mixed with a bit of resignation as well, so maybe that’s a good thing.

I’ve been thinking about the things he said about his wife when she was in the guise of “the ex”. That is his phrase, not mine. The ex, not my ex. He also called her “the bearer of my child”. He never used her name. Which at the time I didn’t give much thought to, assuming that what he’d told me was true and she’d kept the impending existence of his daughter from him. I could understand a bit of resentment existing. But thinking back over things with the knowledge I have now, his dismissive attitude towards her is disturbing. This is a woman he was deliberately and consciously cheating on. They lived together the entire time he and I were together. So that means that during times we stayed up late talking, she was there. Everything he said to me, did with me, promised me, during those talks, he did while she slept in the next room, gestating their child. Every day she assumed he was hard at work earning their livelihood, he was doing it while spending every single moment with me, while planning a future with me. That’s just wrong. There’s no way to spin it any other way. And honestly, it makes me angry. How dare he treat a woman he professes to love in that way? How could he? How could he treat me the way he did, someone he also professed to love? But even more so how could he treat her, the woman he’s been with for eight years, a woman he married, a woman who carried his child, in such a completely heartless way?

So I’m back to my dilema. I want to keep the idea of him as a man who made a serious mistake, but who is a decent, caring and kind person in general. I want this, I think, because I don’t want to admit that my ability to tell a nice guy from a lying jerk is so seriously flawed, and also because I’m scared that if I go down that road I will turn jaded and lose my belief in love and a true and passionate man existing somewhere for me.

It’s really just insanely frustrating. And I guess I’m still at the point where I believe that he did mean the things he said to me. But I’m also willing to admit that he has an impressive capacity to compartmentalize the different areas of his life. Last night, she said she didn’t believe he could love two people at the same time, and that therefore one of us was seriously stupid. And yeah, I’m willing to admit the possibility that it’s me. I’ve said that from the beginning. But I’d rather neither of us was stupid, that this was just an unfortunate thing, that they fix things, really and truly fix things, not merely stay together unhappily, and that I move on, happy and wiser. So that’s what I was getting at, with choosing to believe that he did love me. A decent man, capable of love, capable of fixing the gigantic mistake he made and remaining true to his wife, that’s a good thing. A manipulative sociopath, not a good thing and not at all worth staying with. The first is fine and understandable for me to have fallen in love with, the second is not.

I feel like screaming, I really do.