Love on the Rocks.

2 Jan
He lied. He cheated. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that he was telling me the truth. I wish I knew sooner. I wish I was able to figure it out, instead of believing he really did love me. Yes, his lavish gifts hid the fact that he wasn’t really as interested in me as I thought. I couldn’t afford those gifts for myself. I couldn’t afford buying myself a new digital camera or a suprise 30th birthday dinner at The Capital Grille. Everything seemed so perfect that evening, minus the fact there was yet to be an engagement ring placed on my finger.

I often wonder what went wrong. I often wonder if there was something that I did to make him stray. His countless excuses of how he had to work all the time. His countless excuses that he couldn’t spend time with me, only made me feel empty and wortheless in the side. I tried to get him to pay attention to me. I tried to get him to even look at me in a different way. So he mentioned he wanted me to wear something different. Wear my hair different, or change my makeup “look”. I did those things. Not only did I do those things, but even when I did – he didn’t even notice the change, even though it was his request. How could you not notice? I felt like an idiot trying to “point out” the changes. He said to me that he didn’t see it because it was so subtle. I bet you would of noticed something bigger, let’s say if I got a boob job. I’m sure you’d notice that, but the littlest things… what I needed from you, you continued to neglect me, until I finally decided to end our relationship.

I’ve been starting over now for six months. I admit it, I hate the holidays. Thank goodness it’s over. In fact, I also hate Valentine’s Day. I liked the idea about it. But I was forced to believe that it was a waste. He wasn’t about the lovey-doveyness of a special day. He felt that anyday could be Valentine’s Day, which only gave him more time to figure himself out, and figure out if he really wanted to be with me. It really bothered me. How some years on Valentine’s Day, I’d get a crappy card from him and I’d go all out. I hate that feeling of putting myself, my whole self into something, only to wonder “why did I do that?”.

I did things. I felt so unappreciated. That now, I’m single… and I almost want to do these special things for someone else. Those random text message in the day to tell him that I’m thinking of him. But at times, it feels so innapropriate. As if I’m not ready to let myself become vulnerable again, to let myself be open – with my skeletons in the closet, only to fear that I will be rejected again because I’m not perfect enough, and don’t fit the items on his checklist.

I’m a package deal. I offer laughter, support, a high level of open communication and sometimes treats. You can’t pick and choose. Either you love me for me, or you can’t. Just because you’re thinking I need to work on myself, honey – did you forget about the countless months I spent working on myself? Have you not looked at yourself recently? Seriously, you need to get a mirror and look at yourself. Because you’re not perfect, but somehow you’re expecting me that if I work on this and that, that somehow everything will be magically “perfect”.

It was never love. Love isn’t always happy, but I should smile with you.

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