We "met" on the phone in 2014. At that time, I worked at a radio station and used to interact with my sources in that way. When I encountered them in person, I hardly ever knew what to do. In addition, face-to-face meetings always took points away from me, especially because I am the woman with the most telling gestures in the world. In less than a minute, my interviewee could guess if his answer seemed utterly stupid to me or if I was loving the way he thought. This case was no exception.
Two years later, we began to work together on one of the many projects that my 27 years could simultaneously promote. I felt an affinity of those that begins with a "no", "no ok, no", "Oh, I don't know, could it be?" However, I never stopped to think about that as it was a married man, ergo, forbidden. It was not a prudishness but the promise of non-recidivism from some kind of addicted to troubled relationships.
I had already been "the lover" on two occasions. I was conscientious, I assumed it like that, nobody was going to get divorced and, in fact, both "loved" their wives and would "never" separate from them. They were ephemeral relationships, but where I finally found myself suffering. It made me crumble to think about the damage that "I" caused to those women who surely did not know anything about my existence, I was terrified of being discovered, it gave me even more panic that it was through a street scandal, but what pissed me off the most was discovering myself almost every Sunday afternoon longing for moments that were banned for the “position” that I held in that trio that pretended to be a duo, wondering is it true that he loves her? Can you love and cheat at the same time? Do all men at some point in their life need to betray who they chose as a partner? Do they really understand that this is a betrayal? Could it be that monogamy does not work?
Lovers, you know, are not always the bad girls who enjoy and chule, because they know they are more "young" or "exploited" than the official. Sometimes, they are women trapped in feelings and stories that they do not know how to get out of, insecure girls who deceive themselves thinking "well, it doesn't matter, it better be that way because I'm still not up for commitments", while suffering when someone He asks them about their partner or they perceive that the biological clock is advancing and the chance of being a mother goes with him. And no, I was not going to fall back into that straw. Better alone than in bad company or with half company, I repeated to myself.
However, a couple of months later I was there: sitting on a piece of furniture listening to a guy tell me through tears that his marriage stopped working “long before me” and that the two of them, by mutual agreement, had decided to separate. But of that thread, I already had a roll. So, I tried to bring the situation to the status of those love affairs that I did not want to repeat, but that at least had one point in favor: they were honest with me.
“Come here daddy, talk to me clearly that I don't have a problem with that. What do you want? A fuck? An adventure? ”I asked him. Immediately afterwards, I got ready to listen to all the verbiage that I would say no, please, that is not the case, you are not a woman for a fuck and now, I want everything with you, while I thought “aha, everything, except leave my wife ”. But no, it didn't. The guy was outraged, stood up and left. Imagine, how was it possible that he finally opened his beating heart and I was not willing to believe him?
With the passage of time, I, who until that day at least rescued being the lover who knows that the guy does not sleep in another bed or is with his wife "only for the children", I fell into a strange but strange web of lies, in which I was trapped for at least 3 years.
I was the lover without knowing it, the one who brought the guy and his ten shirts to live in his house, the one who visited his spaces and found no trace of another, the one who was publicly and relaxed exhibited, the one who believed the complete story . Until the dreaded show arrived.
It was an afternoon in August, when my Facebook inbox erupted with fierce, if rather cliché, insults. I have always wondered why, when faced with a male infidelity, the cheated woman blames the "prostitute" who "got into her husband's eyes" and exempts the guy from guilt? The other is not cheating on you or breaking any promises because he was the one who married you, not her. I suppose it is part of that rare machismo that women hate, but without noticing it we reproduce every moment.
He did not know how to act. I breathed. I took a couple of screenshots to send to a friend, who was at my house minutes later: “What do you want to do?” She asked me. I don't know ... cry? I said. But the tears didn't come out, they took many weeks to come out. Something told me to keep my guard up. I lived through the harassment, a brutal harassment, of both of them for several days, each with their own version of events. The final dagger came when she decided to forward the voice memos he had sent her, the ones where "Jessica means nothing to me" and "I only love you, my love." Listening to them, and believe me I did it over and over again, opened the threshold to another level of pain and instilled in me the idea that I could not and should not trust anyone.
I never imagined this, I repeated to myself. But did you really never imagine it? I wondered later. Suddenly, night after night, I was remembering chapters with too much clarity: no wonder such a day was late, surely that is why he did not accompany me to such a party. I poked around old conversations, invoked memories I thought were insignificant, I flagellated myself a thousand times. From the outside, after the days go by or when love ceases, everything becomes clearer: No, Jessica, he didn't put his phone on airplane mode to have dinner in peace with you. I was doing it to avoid receiving calls from the wife in front of you.
Is it really so bad to think that a guy can disconnect to be relaxed in a house shared by both? Maybe not. But not harboring bad thoughts is —for those who always know more than you and therefore can judge you— to be “naive” and that pays dearly. In this way, I began to blame myself for "not having realized it before."
With time and maturity, one lets go of that rare and useless tendency to always look for a culprit. He assumes what is his turn and ends with a "he will know what he did and why" and voila, that's it. The really difficult thing is to get to work on the necessary reconstructions, especially since that process includes something that seems trivial, but is not: understanding that a bad experience cannot lead you to generalize or reproduce the bad.
I'm sure that all the people who go through similar chapters, we find ourselves looking askance at our next partner while we think “this one thinks I'm an asshole, that contact that mom says is actually the lover” or “who is she laughing with this dog? ”, although in reality the guy is seeing memes about how crazy people took over the US Congress.
Tell me your story, write it as it is, together we shape it and share it with others. Exorcising demons is a prerequisite to advance: [email protected]