“Hello have few questions for you im __________ wife and i just want to know what exactly is the relationship you two have i seen you guys messages i just want honesty i confronted him about you an he did not have nice things to say but i think he was lien”

Bitch. What?

My first thought was, what in the choppy-illiterate text message nonsense is this?

I read it again and my heart sank. I sat back. I took a deep breath. I responded:

“Hello. I’m not looking to engage in conversation or answer any questions. That needs to come from your husband, and I promise I’m not saying that in a manner of disrespect at all. That’s just not how I move. I’m just not interested in getting tangled in whatever it is that you two have going on. It’s unfortunate that there is some dishonesty occurring and I hope that you two get it figured out sooner than later but I would appreciate it if you did not contact me again. All the best.”

His motherfucking wife. His, wife.

He said they were legally separated because she had slept with his best friend. They were resolving an issue with a property they owned together, but that was it and that was all.

I didn’t believe him.

I asked three times on three occasions if the door was closed. The third time that I asked, not even 48 hours prior to receiving the message from said wife, he got upset and replied “Do you realize this is your third time asking me that? It’s starting to piss me off because I told you that I’m all in. I closed that door before I met you, I have no reason to lie. I’m here. With you. Okay?”

I did not believe him. I wanted to so bad.

He looked me in my eyes and told me he loved me. He told my son that he was falling in love with me.

I believed him. I didn’t want to, but I did. I felt softer. Lighter. Ready. I blogged about it. I bubbled on the inside, butterflies and all that shit. He wooed me. Called me things like beautiful, pretty, amazing. He courted me. Told me that he could not wait to make love to me but wanted to wait because he needed it to be right. Wasn’t this what the past eight years had been preparing me for? To lead with love and not fear? What about doubt though, doesn’t doubt mean don’t? I did though.

He entered my life tip-toeing. Patient and forgiving. I stood him up twice, and made up for it by taking him on a date. His humility was intoxicating. He presented as the male version of me. A virgo as well. Pointing out walls and swinging in their direction to knock them down. Talking that protecting and standing in front of me shit. Talking that shit.

I cannot tell a lie, it took me out for a day. I came home, climbed into bed fully dressed and cried. Our experience was one of those whirlwind things; where you spend an entire night together talking until the sun comes up and then deciding by sunrise that there is absolutely no one else on this planet for you. That finally, you’d found exactly who you’d been looking for. I know this to be true because we said it to each other. I guess the difference was that I believed him.

Ten years ago and I would’ve showed up on his doorstep kicking his door in. I would’ve texted a dissertation about how much I trusted him, how I let him in, and how oh how could he do this to me? Calling back to back and leaving voicemails until it reached capacity, he would’ve regretted ever knowing me.

I just cannot make shit that heavy anymore. Doesn’t mean that it doesn’t weigh me down, but I can’t harbor it for long. I can’t control what someone else’s intent is, but I can control how it affects me. And it doesn’t. I will not let it. Not anymore.

I sat in my sadness for a bit. I wanted to remember what it felt like. It had been so long. For some reason, I thought I’d passed this part of hurt, figured I wouldn’t feel it like this because I had “done the work”. That only matters when you’re dealing with a person who has done their work too.

Hurt people hurt people. And happy people don’t move in deceit. We know that right? So right before I let myself go too far into an abyss of self-pity, I was reminded of purpose. Maybe, just maybe it was time for my walls to come down, and he was the sledgehammer. If that is so, I am so okay with that. His dishonesty won’t do what the dishonesty of those before him did to me. I’m not absorbing and blaming and discounting others because of one bad, fat ass, suspended license, mother-makes-beard-butter-but-your-shit-is-as-rough-as-an-ashy-ass apple! I’m not throwing the whole barrel away because of one. One blind, bad-eye having monkey don’t stop no show!

Not anymore.

While I may have sat in it and felt sorry for myself for a day, I was reminded of my strength when I got up the next day. Ready for this? Guess what I did?

I got up the next day. I got up. What can top new breath and a new day? Who would waste that on sadness?

When I decided to do this blog, I told myself that I had to go into it with full transparency. I decided to share this because I know how it feels to experience things that you sometimes can’t talk about. I couldn’t take another “oh girl, his loss! Fuck him!” So instead of talking most times, I write. I hope that someone reads my experiences and feels a little less alone. Just stay in motion. Don’t let nobody shut you down.

The bonus of it all though: He ain’t get no buns! Wheeeew!

Honey, que Lizzo and turn her all the way up!

“Bestfriend sat me down in a salon chair, shampoo, press, getchu outta my hair.”