“…the devil is real
and he’s not a little red man with horns and a tail
he can be beautiful,
cause he’s a fallen angel
and he used to be God’s favorite…”
– American Horror Story
I called him.
It used to be when he dumped me, he would always string me along with the illusion of a future reconciliation. “Maybe” he’d tell me, “you never know in time, but not right now” which meant in his speak “I need to go out and fuck around“. I’d be his plan B and it always seemed to coincide around the Holiday season. When his either his bankroll wore thin for the paid escorts or the craigslist fuckwhore hookups ran dry and the swingers were busy with their families. On craigslist there’s always the same cast of characters, there’s not an unending supply of new people. It’s the same people with ten different handles looking for ass save for the out of towners.
But something has changed alright. This breakup is different.
He told me never to call him again EVER. That’s been said before but this time he told me to call his grandmother whom I’m very close to and tell her we broke up. He always wanted her kept out of the know. He protected grandma from things. She lives on the West Coast. She is in her 90’s.
I knew once I told her it was over. That it would truly be over. A finality he would never undo. He said “do it I don’t give a shit, I’m done with you forever Lexi.”
I made the call, tactfully, carefully, but I made it.
She had already figured it out, since we normally phoned her together. No dementia in this lovely woman. She told me she loved me. I cried. She’s not doing well. She recently had taken a bad fall and required a blood transfusion. I’ve been calling her to check and see how she is doing. I told her this was not my decision to leave the relationship…….and left it there. She knows that his illness is getting worse (a chronic neurodegenerative auto-immune illness) and that he is hard to along with. I left it there. I told her I loved still loved him. She advised me to try to let it go.
But it’s really hitting me that he disposed of me.
And the lack of closure……the “why” that eats at me.
I awaken in the middle of the night abruptly at odd hours: 1: 47 am……then again at 3:23 am. Then again at 5:12 am……. for no apparent fucking reason.
He intrudes into my dreams.
He intrudes into my daytime stream of consciousness.
and yet there is nothing but a heavy silence; there is no trace of him……anywhere to be heard or seen.
I haven’t been our of the house.
I haven’t made a single phone call.
I’ve gone into shutdown mode…..just gone Dark.
My eyes are so bloodshot from tears that won’t stop. My temples hurt from crying and just when I think there’s no tears, they start again.
After I go to work. I sleep. I go through motions of life.
If it wasn’t for my job. I don’t know that I would be here now.
At night, my house gets quiet again and my eyes well up knowing he’s sticking his cock in some young girl not thinking about me. Not one teardrop forming in his heart.
I just simply don’t exist. It’s as if I never existed. What could be worse than annihilation. To have never existed. Is there any worse such fate.
Than to forsake a loved one and act as if they are a stranger or less so, as if they never existed. Or to know you were never loved that it was chicanery, fraud. you were conned.
I don’t think he has a heart.
Maybe he really is a sociopath like my shrink said, without a conscience, playing the part of a sex-addict this whole time.
A highly sophisicated con, and I was his emotional punching bag-toy that now lacks luster.
Now he’s set sail, off to find something shiny.
What have I done…..
What have I done to myself
What pain have I brought upon myself……
My God my God.