“You think that I’d learn the cost of love. Paid that price long enough. But still I drive myself right through the pain. Yeah, well it turns out, I haven’t learned a thing. Sometimes I think I’m better off. To turn out the lights and close up shop. And give up the longing, believing in belonging. Just hold down my head and take the loss. You’d think that I’d learn my lesson by now. You’d think that I’d somehow figure out. That if you strike the match. You’re bound to feel the flame.”–Daughtry
So once upon a time, I feel in love with a bad boy. He actually wasn’t “bad” at all. The roughness that was on the outside was for show, to hide the soft side that I knew was there. He was hard on the outside and so soft, so I thought, on the inside. When he looked at me, I got weak. When he kissed me, I literally lost my breath. He made my head spin, my heart skip beats. Despite our differences, and there were many, I knew. I mean I knew with out a doubt in my mind, that this beautiful man [and he was, is, beautiful], was for me. We would love each other make babies, make a home and live a life.
There was catch though. I never said anything to him. I never, not once, placed a demand. I thought if I was quiet and asked for nothing. That he would just see how perfect I was for him. That he would look at me and think I was pretty; smart; loving; exactly what he needed. I did what he wanted. I loved him completely. Stood by him. He had troubles. He needed money, I gave it to him. He needed love, I gave it to him. He needed sex, I gave him that too. He ran away and I waited. Held my breath, counted the days and waited for him to come back. Always thinking hoping praying that he would come back, for me.
What we had, was never right. We had moments, months of bliss. Then weeks or months of silence. I dreamt of him, I knew when he was in trouble. I knew when he needed me. So when I dreamt of his new baby, I knew it was true. Even when he looked at me and told me it wasn’t true. But, I apologized. Fool that I am. I told him I was sorry for accusing him of being a liar. But even though I knew, I still wanted certainty. Certainty never came. But I kept having those dreams. Dream after dream about him and her and their baby. I can remember so clearly when I decided that I “knew” enough. I sat on the floor of my bedroom and cried until I was sick. Ate ice cream until I threw up. But instead of saying anything, I was quiet still. Still loving him. Still wanting him. Still loosing my breath. Still thinking that somehow, things would turn around for “us”. Still thinking that his kisses meant something. Still believing him when he told me he loved me. Wondering if it was something I did or didn’t do. Was I not smart? Was I too fat? Did he think that I was ugly? Did I not please him sexually? Was I not good enough. These are the questions that followed me around. Yet…
I love him still. What kind of person am I? What kind of woman loves a man who lies to her? I have continued to love this man, even though I know he created a child with a woman at a time when I thought we were together. I have adored this man even though he married this woman. I have stood by when he has hurt me, by saying to me that “if it hadn’t been her, it would have been you”. Just reading that back to myself makes me cringe.
We stole some moments not so long ago. As always it was a sad kind of joy for me. I love seeing him. I think the sex between us is amazing. Exciting. Satisfying. When he looks at me, my breath still catches, even though it’s not quite the same. He’s noticed and made comments. He says I’m not attracted to him or some such thing. That’s not it all. It’s only that after all this time, 8 years as a matter of fact, I’m tired. Tired of knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that I am never going to be first for him. Tired of knowing that the love between as never been equal or fair.
He’s not completely wrong. I do still adore him, but it IS different. And finally, I think I see the light at the end of this tunnel. It seems as though the end is in sight. I think that perhaps, I may, finally have had enough.