This Doesn't Happen to Normal People

But what DOES happen to normal people? Email: iamthecoloursapphire@yahoo.com

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Without Malice
(Truth Observed)


Oh, he's so smooth, isn't he? With just enough knowledge to make him seem wise, just enough truth to make him seem honest, just enough contact to make him seem loving. But he's not. He's nothing.
This is what I've observed:
He states so passionately that he never lies that you believe him-until you find out just what he's been lying about. The other woman. With him, there's ALWAYS another woman. He's never content with what he has, and he's always got a backup plan. A someone else backup plan. And he'll lie about it to keep you content. The wheres and whens and hows and whys of contact with that other. And when you discover it, one little piece at a time, when you confront him, he always has his reasons, his rationales. And he looks at you so deeply and holds you so closely that you can't let him go, and even if you could, you don't want to. After that he takes pains to hide the evidence, telling you that he trusts you and giving you access to his accounts, emails, IMs. But he creates new ones for himself, for her, ones that you don't suspect and won't look for. So, for a while, you are content. Until the next piece makes itself known.
That's rambling and disconnected, I know. But he's a shit. He says he cares about you SO MUCH but he can't even keep his dick in his pants-or yours. Did he tell you about the girl? The suicide, the aftermath, the covenant? And did he tell you he hasn't told anyone about it in a long long time? Or possibly he told you he's never spoken of it; that's what he told me. Making you feel so CLOSE to him, so empathetic towards him. Does he tell you he loves you "more than you can ever know"? It's all a ploy. He needs you. Despite what he says, despite all the stories of his independence, he canNOT make it on his own. He needs your house, your money, your willingness to destroy yourself for him. I bought his tires to the tune of five hundred dollars. I fixed his car to the tune of nearly four hundred. I continually bought his gas, at about fifty bucks a tank. And he was never there. He'd run off with his "friends"-drug dealers and whores-then disappear for days on end and come back bloody with some story about being mugged for the rent and stabbing someone in the eye. Lies. Proven lies, and STILL he had a defense. Still he piled on the lies.
I think of all the things he did to me, all the shit he put me through, all the debt he incurred in my name...I think of all this and sometimes I still want him. Oh, I know why. Despite his almost constant near-impotence, when he screwed me it was FUN. Not good, not bad, but painful and, more than anything, fun. I'm glad I didn't stay with him because of the sex, though. Now *I* am the one making it on my own. And he...still an impotent little shit of a man.
I have so SO many more examples, but I need to go to work now.
Laters