My heart on a silver platter
When I was in my teens into the first couple years of my twenties, I used to cheat on my boyfriends. Not purposely or vengefully mind you, but if the opportunity presented itself I usually did nothing to stop it. I’m not sure if it was because I liked the attention or the secrecy or I was just stupid and immature, but overtime it suddenly became gross and trashy to me and I decided to never do it again.
Fast forward a few years…I met him through a friend and our first encounter was intoxicating. We’ll call him Gene. We were inseparable after that first unexpected date. Gene kissed me softly and shyly under a full moon sky. I fell completely, head over heels, fairy tale in love with him. We had the type of connection that most people never feel in a lifetime. He had a way of entrancing me with his deep intellectual thoughts on life. He never raised his voice and we almost never got mad or fought with each other. He loved me despite my flaws and I him. He was patient and kind and he would always surprise me with random gifts and desserts.
Needless to say, I handed him my heart on a silver platter and I never looked back. He would be my partner in crime and in life and I felt content in every way.
We’ll just fast forward again real quick…While we were on vacation with his parents, I noticed he was texting very frequently. When asked, he said it was a coworker and it was about work. Later, I caught a glimpse of him sending photos of himself from the adventures of the day in a text and I couldn’t help but feel odd. I asked him who this coworker is and he said it was just some girl from work. We’ll call her Annie. I tried to shake off the weird feeling I was having because I had absolutely no reason not to trust him. We told each other everything, right?
By the end of the vacation, he was constantly on his phone but only when I wasn’t by him. I asked him again if anything was going on and again he insisted that it was nothing. That night, I couldn’t sleep. Laying in bed next to him in the dark on our last day of a very beautiful and fun trip, his phone vibrated. His loud snores assured me that he was out cold and I picked up his phone. I shook my head and put it back on the night stand. What am I doing? I’m not that girl. But I saw that it was a message from Annie and I needed to see what all the “work” talk was about. I picked up his phone and put in the code. Text after text after text back and forth and back and forth. Annie and Gene were having full blown conversations, sending each other photos and definitely not talking about just work. The messages were a tad flirty, but there was no actual evidence of anything else going on.
I waited a couple of days after we got back home to bring it up. He denied that anything was going on. He loved me, he said. I’m his partner, he said. I wanted to believe him so badly, but my chest was heavy and my womanly instincts were tingling so hard, my hands would shake.
I started bringing up Annie and asking him over and over if anything happened. I would bring it up during dinners, through texts, while watching movies- weekly, daily, hourly; I knew it was annoying, but I couldn’t stop. To quote Mean Girls, I had “word vomit.”
Two months passed by as I walked past his computer that was open to his iMessages. He was taking a shower so I knew I had a little time to snoop. I just wanted to find nothing on there, so I could move past it all, but instead I found this:
Not only did he sleep with another woman, message her constantly in front of me on our vacation together, and lie to me about it for two straight months, he had an STD that he failed to mention and was still continuing to have sex with me!!!!!! I was livid. My body was boiling red from the anger and betrayal I felt from the man who I thought I would grow old with. Once the moment of anger passed, what was left was despair. I gave him my whole self- body, mind, and soul and he ruined it in one selfish relieving of a load.
Thankfully, the genital warts he contracted from his trashy coworker did not spread to me and we ended our almost three year relationship shortly after that. It took me so long to accept that Gene and I would not get back together and that he wasn’t “my person”, despite him committing the wrong doing.
I went through a very long mourning period that I almost didn’t think I would crawl out of. He broke me into a million pieces and I had the hard task of putting them all back together again.
In conclusion, karma is a real bitch. Cheat and be cheated on; or worse, get warts on your balls.
