“Forgive yourself for not having the foresight to know what now seems obvious in hindsight.”
– Judy Belmont
In between the waves of anxiety, the deeply-knotted pit in my stomach and the constant flood of tears that seem to be aggressively making their way out of my still-surprised tear ducts, I’ve obviously had a lot of time to think back to the last few weeks and the warning signs that I brushed off as my own paranoia.
As I dive into the deeply-torturous, but completely necessary realms of retrospect, I’m like a goddamn forensic scientist as I uncover more little signs that I had been ignoring.
Mr. B was distant. After four months of waiting to be together, I did not feel the butterflies when he kissed me at the airport. The conversations were always awkwardly forced and pieced together. The only time I felt at ease is when we had both been drinking, and our inhibitions were down. It took Mr. B approximately three martinis to stop looking like spending time with me wasn’t somehow inconveniencing his bright and shiny new life.
I gave him outs. I asked him what was wrong. I expressed my anxiety and vulnerability, and he waved them off and told me everything was fine. For seven days, he made me feel insecure and little. For this, I hate him. It crashes over me in waves.
He has shattered my faith in basic human kindness and decency. I had never realized what a grand optimist I was until this experience. I believed in him, unfailingly.
How did I cease to see that Mr. B was a complete and utter douchebag?
Current Status: Look like shit / worst day so far / feeling pathetic and rageful