Man of Little Faith.
"Oh, man of little faith, that ye possess not the strength to withstand the cantankerous rot of doubt."
I don't know what is more upsetting. The fact he had an ONS with a short, pot-bellied, small dick colleague 10 years his senior after one drink too many on a business trip or the fact of his delusional perception that the rot or disinterest on my part started sometime in August 2007, barely a month after we got married. Or perhaps his allegation that the break-up was an elaborate staged "transaction" conducted to inflict maximum pain.
Probably the latter two. I can't stop who he sleeps with though his taste leaves much to be desired. Actions always speak louder than words, so much for the 'keeping oneself chaste for a loved one' mantra, a couple of beers and it goes flying out of the window. Apparently, the cozy haze of alcoholic high aids one in overcoming any lingering unease. And obviously, he has moved on.
Which brings us to the other two incredulous allegations in an msn conversation that swung both ends of the emotional spectrum, from acrid to pure acid. I guess the part about his perceived notion that I had started to lose interest barely a month after the much vaunted and flaunted marriage was especially shocking, especially when it was totally untrue.
Clearly pointing out the fallacy of his peculiar notion, I debunked that baseless allegation and told him that till the second week of January, I was fully dedicated to him and was totally his, body and soul. Whereupon he made some snide remark that was it so wrong to love someone so much that one would worry about the loved one straying?
Love involves a healthy dose of trust and communication. Lack either of these two essential ingredients and you have a concoction that is about as concrete as a fluffy meringue. One poke and the hard exterior crumbles away into nothingness.
I've never liked washing dirty laundry in public, certainly not when it involves any of mine. But when a wholly inaccurate and groundless allegation is raised, it must be addressed at all cost, even if I get livid just thinking about it.
So when he went on that rampage about the entire break-up being staged as a pre-planned transaction designed just to spite him, it was extremely repulsive and offensive. I've said it before, I'll say it again. Deciding on the time and location beforehand is not indicative of some insidious malice to inflict pain and injury on him. It WAS to provide that illusion of resolve which was already so faltering so badly that I nearly called it off, due to the sheer inability to get the words out.
At the end of the day, because talking about it makes me sick to the core, the fundamental difference between us is this. While I would have fought tooth and nail for something I believed in, for something that was so desperately important to me, never mind that the other person seems cold and wrong, never mind that all might not be well anyway; he was content to let me go without a word, for the sake of my 'happiness' and dissolve into abject misery out of my sight, such that a friend had to go down to console him.
Even though my resolve was hardly there, even though I should have consulted him first instead of unilaterally deciding that it would be better to let him go. The break-up was and will always be my fault. But still, I would have fought for our happiness, for a relationship that means the world to me where he was content to give up without a fight, to release in misery and anger.
If you have released and have willingly done so, why then swing from the depths of depression to the consuming flames of blind rage?
Or maybe you have released even if partially so, for you can engage in a ONS with a fellow colleague with nary a blink and yet say in the same sentence how important I was to you. Is the short passage of 3 months sufficient to induce amnesia potent enough to purge the memories of an 'important' person? Or was the writing on the wall to begin with? Hieroglyphics of lies on the stele of our lives, the litany rudely interrupted by the sudden snapping of the stylus?
I don't know. I don't think I even want to know.
Hong Kong was fun but short, too short. The roast goose and flaming Lamborghini were superb. Thankfully, the next short break is coming up really soon, I need a break from this shit.
I don't know what is more upsetting. The fact he had an ONS with a short, pot-bellied, small dick colleague 10 years his senior after one drink too many on a business trip or the fact of his delusional perception that the rot or disinterest on my part started sometime in August 2007, barely a month after we got married. Or perhaps his allegation that the break-up was an elaborate staged "transaction" conducted to inflict maximum pain.
Probably the latter two. I can't stop who he sleeps with though his taste leaves much to be desired. Actions always speak louder than words, so much for the 'keeping oneself chaste for a loved one' mantra, a couple of beers and it goes flying out of the window. Apparently, the cozy haze of alcoholic high aids one in overcoming any lingering unease. And obviously, he has moved on.
Which brings us to the other two incredulous allegations in an msn conversation that swung both ends of the emotional spectrum, from acrid to pure acid. I guess the part about his perceived notion that I had started to lose interest barely a month after the much vaunted and flaunted marriage was especially shocking, especially when it was totally untrue.
Clearly pointing out the fallacy of his peculiar notion, I debunked that baseless allegation and told him that till the second week of January, I was fully dedicated to him and was totally his, body and soul. Whereupon he made some snide remark that was it so wrong to love someone so much that one would worry about the loved one straying?
Love involves a healthy dose of trust and communication. Lack either of these two essential ingredients and you have a concoction that is about as concrete as a fluffy meringue. One poke and the hard exterior crumbles away into nothingness.
I've never liked washing dirty laundry in public, certainly not when it involves any of mine. But when a wholly inaccurate and groundless allegation is raised, it must be addressed at all cost, even if I get livid just thinking about it.
So when he went on that rampage about the entire break-up being staged as a pre-planned transaction designed just to spite him, it was extremely repulsive and offensive. I've said it before, I'll say it again. Deciding on the time and location beforehand is not indicative of some insidious malice to inflict pain and injury on him. It WAS to provide that illusion of resolve which was already so faltering so badly that I nearly called it off, due to the sheer inability to get the words out.
At the end of the day, because talking about it makes me sick to the core, the fundamental difference between us is this. While I would have fought tooth and nail for something I believed in, for something that was so desperately important to me, never mind that the other person seems cold and wrong, never mind that all might not be well anyway; he was content to let me go without a word, for the sake of my 'happiness' and dissolve into abject misery out of my sight, such that a friend had to go down to console him.
Even though my resolve was hardly there, even though I should have consulted him first instead of unilaterally deciding that it would be better to let him go. The break-up was and will always be my fault. But still, I would have fought for our happiness, for a relationship that means the world to me where he was content to give up without a fight, to release in misery and anger.
If you have released and have willingly done so, why then swing from the depths of depression to the consuming flames of blind rage?
Or maybe you have released even if partially so, for you can engage in a ONS with a fellow colleague with nary a blink and yet say in the same sentence how important I was to you. Is the short passage of 3 months sufficient to induce amnesia potent enough to purge the memories of an 'important' person? Or was the writing on the wall to begin with? Hieroglyphics of lies on the stele of our lives, the litany rudely interrupted by the sudden snapping of the stylus?
I don't know. I don't think I even want to know.
Hong Kong was fun but short, too short. The roast goose and flaming Lamborghini were superb. Thankfully, the next short break is coming up really soon, I need a break from this shit.
2 comments:
it's probably better for you if you just obliterate him from your life completely. No need for pointless blaming.
Thanks WG, somethings we just need to hear unadulterated and in our face. Working on that, life would be a lot easier that way. :)
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