There was a time when I felt I loved my now ex-husband.
I would've torn apart any woman dare who threaten my happiness. I hated his ex-girlfriends for the moments they had with him. I wanted everything from him. Everything. Every drop of blood, every heartbeat, every thrust he'd ever taken and will ever take. I was young. I didn’t know that one day I would stand poise and ready to sell him for pennies. Here I am sixteen years later, and I don’t even remember loving him.
I felt that I loved CX too. When I found out that he cheated on me and was plotting to kill me, I suffered unimaginable pain. I felt as if I would die. My tears fall endlessly. Now, I would gladly give him away to anyone who will have him.
I thought I loved a lot of men or at least felt deeply for them to the point where I didn’t want anyone else to have them.
In the later part of my relationship with Nick, I started resenting his ex-wife. I resented her for having his children. I wanted to have his children. Resented that she used to be his wife.
I had a lot of meaningless hatred going on. I also knew that my anger and resentment of this woman was misplaced.
My anger had nothing to do with her. It was Nick and I. We were falling apart. He was slipping though my fingers. We weren’t strong enough to make it. I knew all this but when I blew up at him, none of these things came out. I sounded like an insane woman asking what the fuck is this? Are you and your ex-wife getting back together? Why can’t you say no to her?
He would look at me as if I had lost my mind. And yes, as sure as the sun shines bright on a cloudless day, I had lost my damn mind. There is a possessive element to love. There's a certain degree of madness and irrationality to love.
Today, I stopped by his house to grab the last of my belongings. His ex-wife was dropping off one of their sons to get something from inside.
I bumped into her in the driveway with a box of clothing in my hand.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hello,” She answered.
“I’m Erotica,”
“I know. I’m Sarah. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
I stood there awkward, not sure what else to say.
“That green looks great with your skin tone,” I finally said.
I was taught that when at a loss for words, compliment. Everyone likes a compliment.
She smiled. “Thank you,”
And as if we’re playing the same damn game, “I didn’t realize that you were so young,”
“Yes,” I said. Lifting my head high and flashing her a big bright smile.
And knowing that there was nothing else left to say, I bid her farewell and walk away.
I realized something...even if Nick got back with her, I wouldn’t care.
It was never her. It was not even him.
Love is fickle.
We get into trouble when we convince ourselves that the one we’re with is the only one for us even if they treat us like crap. What we fail to realize is that we can love over and over and over again. How did we get so brainwashed? I don't know. Whose fairytale are we living in? I don't know that either.
Love is fickle.
Now when a relationship ends, I think back to my ex-husband and the large field of men who came after him. And I know that everything is going to be all right.
Where are all these men now and what do they all have in common?
They all live in the same old house on the hill. All on the same long list of men I used to love.
I would've torn apart any woman dare who threaten my happiness. I hated his ex-girlfriends for the moments they had with him. I wanted everything from him. Everything. Every drop of blood, every heartbeat, every thrust he'd ever taken and will ever take. I was young. I didn’t know that one day I would stand poise and ready to sell him for pennies. Here I am sixteen years later, and I don’t even remember loving him.
I felt that I loved CX too. When I found out that he cheated on me and was plotting to kill me, I suffered unimaginable pain. I felt as if I would die. My tears fall endlessly. Now, I would gladly give him away to anyone who will have him.
I thought I loved a lot of men or at least felt deeply for them to the point where I didn’t want anyone else to have them.
In the later part of my relationship with Nick, I started resenting his ex-wife. I resented her for having his children. I wanted to have his children. Resented that she used to be his wife.
I had a lot of meaningless hatred going on. I also knew that my anger and resentment of this woman was misplaced.
My anger had nothing to do with her. It was Nick and I. We were falling apart. He was slipping though my fingers. We weren’t strong enough to make it. I knew all this but when I blew up at him, none of these things came out. I sounded like an insane woman asking what the fuck is this? Are you and your ex-wife getting back together? Why can’t you say no to her?
He would look at me as if I had lost my mind. And yes, as sure as the sun shines bright on a cloudless day, I had lost my damn mind. There is a possessive element to love. There's a certain degree of madness and irrationality to love.
Today, I stopped by his house to grab the last of my belongings. His ex-wife was dropping off one of their sons to get something from inside.
I bumped into her in the driveway with a box of clothing in my hand.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hello,” She answered.
“I’m Erotica,”
“I know. I’m Sarah. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
I stood there awkward, not sure what else to say.
“That green looks great with your skin tone,” I finally said.
I was taught that when at a loss for words, compliment. Everyone likes a compliment.
She smiled. “Thank you,”
And as if we’re playing the same damn game, “I didn’t realize that you were so young,”
“Yes,” I said. Lifting my head high and flashing her a big bright smile.
And knowing that there was nothing else left to say, I bid her farewell and walk away.
I realized something...even if Nick got back with her, I wouldn’t care.
It was never her. It was not even him.
Love is fickle.
We get into trouble when we convince ourselves that the one we’re with is the only one for us even if they treat us like crap. What we fail to realize is that we can love over and over and over again. How did we get so brainwashed? I don't know. Whose fairytale are we living in? I don't know that either.
Love is fickle.
Now when a relationship ends, I think back to my ex-husband and the large field of men who came after him. And I know that everything is going to be all right.
Where are all these men now and what do they all have in common?
They all live in the same old house on the hill. All on the same long list of men I used to love.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment