I was someone’s secret for three years.
He didn’t cheat ON me. He cheated WITH me. In order to do that, he lied to two women who he supposedly loved. For years. He lied about: where he was, where he slept, his living arrangements, who he would have drinks or dinner with, his business trips, and his kids’ school performances and who he went with. He even lied about what he got for his motherfucking birthday, most likely tucking my carefully chosen gifts to him away in his closet.
He told me his elaborate plans for the weekend after his birthday. His plans were so detailed that I grew suspicious. When he didn’t call or text me his usual ‘goodnight’ the evening before, I did what any jealous, distrusting, crazy girlfriend would do: at 5:00 in the morning, well before his supposed plans, I drove the 25 miles to his house, a home where I’d been invited numerous times.
His car wasn’t there. He wasn’t there. He lied to me.
That’s when I knew, truly knew, that our entire relationship was a lie.
That’s also when I knew, truly knew, that this relationship had changed me.
I was never THAT girl. I never needed to have access to email accounts or phones. I never distrusted what my lovers told me they were doing. And I never, ever was anybody’s secret. How did I become THIS person?
He and I don’t communicate anymore. One day he was my best friend, and the next, he was gone. It was much like a death of a loved one, but with a lot more anger and no satisfying clump of dirt on his grave.
I’ve mostly dealt with that anger, but some days I’m felled by memory. I haven’t arrived at the place of fond memories yet — does that place really exist after such heartache? Can memories ever be polished after this kind of wear?
I think every memory I have of him will remain a knife for as long as I breathe.
I try not to remember him.
I’m not anybody’s secret anymore, goddammit. My gifts don’t belong in a box in the closet to be enjoyed when nobody else is looking. My Christmases will be on Christmas. And when the clock strikes midnight on New Year’s Eve, I won’t be looking around wondering why everyone else has their special someones and mine is…busy.
I’m single. But I’m nobody’s secret.Post Categories: unbuttoned