“I though you were cheating on me!”
I’m on the phone with a former boo, and we’re talking about a break up we had a few months back. I keep quiet for a moment because I’m not exactly sure what to say about this information, three months after the fact. As I’m trying to unpack it, I realize: he thought I was cheating on him, so he broke up with me, and started sleeping with other people.
I’m unclear as to what good this information does for me three months later. It doesn’t really make sense why he didn’t ask me straight up three months ago if I had fucked someone else. He just assumed, and then he used that as grounds to break up.
What I hear in his declaration is not that he’s a strong man who deserves the love of a woman, but, rather, that he’s so insecure about the thought of me sleeping with someone else that he would rather dump me in order to even the score and sleep with other people, too. A break up is easier than looking me in the eye and talking to me about my alleged infidelities. What if the answer to his question is, yes, I had been sleeping with other people? What would the heart break feel like then? What if the answer to his question is, no, I hadn’t? Would it be even worse for me to realize that he cared too much about me and what I do with my body? For me to realize I had power over him and his emotions?
I understand that math: we have to level out the amount of pain here so that both people can feel it. That’s why he broke up with me without ever asking me about what I was doing. He felt so hurt before he even knew the truth that he had to hurt me in return as badly as he could, regardless of whether or not I had actually cheated.
“I thought you had cheated, too,” I replied, referring to the incident when I went through his phone and saw his lovey dovey text messages with his other girlfriend.
Of course, that’s the difference between me and him: I back up my hunches with cold, hard facts. Sure, it wasn’t the most confident move I could have taken in the relationship, but I did it. After I had found the text messages, I woke him up and said, “I found your text messages with your other girlfriend, and I think we need to talk about having an open relationship.”
Again, yet another example of the differences between me and him: I collected the evidence, and then I realized, hey, maybe we can still make this work out. In fact, I would have liked to have things work out. Apparently, however, my suggestion that we open our relationship was all the evidence he needed in order to determine that I was cheating. So it never came to fruition.
At the end of the day, he still vehemently denies ever having cheated on me. But it’s a moot point now – it doesn’t matter if he had fucked half of Oakland before crawling into my bed at night and telling me he loved me or if he had been with only me the entire time. After that, the trust was gone, and the relationship was too damaged to repair. But I’m not one to let trust issues get in the way of a bit of make up sex, so in the end I truly did overcome.