History Repeats Itself

In the first few weeks of being in my new place, it felt like I was just visiting. Nothing in there was mine, there were plenty of things I still needed and it just didn’t feel like home quite yet. So much had happened in such a short period of time, I forgot that the outside world had kept moving while I was busy putting my life back together. It was I guess going on two months now since the dreaded “cast out on the street” episode and I had drinks with one of mine and “HIS” mutual friends. I debated whether or not I wanted any contact with anyone I had met during my time with “HIM” We aren’t saying his name, but you know who I mean. She met me at my house, again another thing I was leery about, but her and I were always close and I not only respected her as a person, I really liked her. She arrived at my new “home” and I made us dinner and we sat on the couch chatting for hours. I knew it was inevitable that HE was going to come up, how could he not. One day I was there and the next day I was gone. After a bit of wine, we were talking freely when it came out of her mouth “So what happened?” My response was robotic, like I had practiced what I was going to say if someone asked me, but I didn’t. It just came out cold “What have you heard?”

She went on to say that she knew I had left and when she asked HIM what happened and where I was HIS response to it all was “She didn’t want my kids around, so she left.” My blood boiled at his inability to be honest even with himself. I’m sure he actually believed that is what happened. That because I wanted his kids to be away from the house the day we came home from the hospital for three days that I was all of a sudden a horrible human being not wanting his kids in our lives. I held back my fury to go off and yell to her at the top of my lungs and then I caught myself. I began the story and told her what had transpired and her mouth just sat gaping open with surprise. I wished it wasn’t the real story, but it was. I gave her day 1 – 10 and told her as I’ve told you here what happened. I guess you could say it’s my version of the story, but then again my version is the truth. At least in my opinion it is. And my parents, my friends, my kids….anyone who knew me, helped me, was with me during this time, knows that the real story has nothing to do with not wanting to be around his kids. I loved his kids. I still did.

I told her about the message I got from the blonde headed stripper looking girl years ago and said in passing “Can you even believe that?” And she very quietly said “Yes.” I stopped dead in my tracks. I took a sip of wine and stared at her as if I was watching a horror movie and the best part was about to happen. “What do you mean?” I asked her. And she proceeded to tell me that the message she sent me was not her being crazy or a psycho ex, it was real. It was all real. He doesn’t know I know that he texted with another woman on and off throughout our whole relationship but Jesus it made sense. How distant he would be, the lack of sex, that he almost broke my thumb when I tried to look in his phone. Really? This is really happening now? After already thinking he’s the lowest of lowest human being’s now I find this out. Why was I not surprised. Then the rest came out. He had a girlfriend. WHAT? My body isn’t even cold in the grave yet, how could he already have a girlfriend? I assumed it was the blonde headed stripper type, but it wasn’t. It was a short, attractive, black-haired woman with a lot of kids. A Lot. I couldn’t blame her. I’m sure she was just as memorized by his pretend life as I was. She would find out eventually. I was sure sooner than later. But how did he get a girlfriend when I just got my life together? I blinked and six weeks of homelessness was now a part of my history, what I didn’t realize was how fast I’d be a part of history as well.

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