Maybe I am being overly dramatic, then again, maybe not.
He "futured" me... and I let him do it. It's what I wanted, so I never stopped to question it. He hypnotized me with his dreamy eyes and disheveled hair. He told me everything I was ready to hear, and got my ovaries all in an uproar. Yes, he seemed too good to be true, and perhaps that should have been my first clue, but for once, I was trying not to be cynical and over-think things the way I am apt to do.
For the last 3 weeks, I have stood by watching my friends stare at me with thinly-veiled disbelief that I would even consider giving this guy a second chance. It got to where I barely recognized myself at times. In knowing what I knew about him, and attempting to move past it anyway, I had begun turning into a suspicious, mistrustful, apathetic shell of my former self who could barely get out of bed some days. All the while, adamantly trying to convince myself that it would just take time. That he really was sorry and that he truly meant it when he said he loved me and wanted a life with me. That I could believe in him.
Then it happened... that integral moment which made this decision I'd been so painfully struggling with, seem so suddenly simple.
After an ostensibly perfect evening together, cooking dinner, laughing, and enjoying each other's company the way we always had, we started discussing some serious things, and I asked him to let me look at his phone. Let me repeat that for emphasis: I asked him to let me look at his phone. Many a crazy lady would have waited until he was asleep and stolen a peek, but I pride myself on not being that lady. In light of the things that have happened, I felt this was a completely reasonable request. He, however, froze like a dear in headlights. The look on his face answered every un-asked question I had left. I told him to leave my house, never contact me again, and if he had time, go to hell.
Today I shot 150 rounds at the range, bought $100 worth of underwear, and ate a pretzel bacon cheeseburger from Wendy's... all legitimate techniques for coping with heartbreak, yet still the sadness has crept in. I think it was inevitable, even though ultimately I know I made the right decision.
I count myself lucky that I only wasted 3 months, not 3 years on him (God bless that whole 'older and wiser' schtick). I also take some comfort in the knowledge that I have a significant number of dear friends poised to drop-kick him in the baby-maker if he ever comes near me again.
In hindsight, it's probably best that it's over... In the time we were together, I heard him use the "word" "irregardless" more than once, and let's face it, that has always been a deal-breaker for me.
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