As you may notice, there has been some serious delay in my posting. It is because I have been a complete wreck after what happened on day Twenty-Five. I have appropriately titled it, "D-Day." Writing about this is extremely trying on my soul. I have been striving to breathe and just keep it together since this day and writing, each time I tried, proved to be damn near impossible. So, I am just going to type and not even edit, hoping to get through this once and for all.
A few months ago, my ex went out to do a show (he does music) during the day and said he would come home to be with me shortly after. I was not feeling well and did not want to spend another night in a bar: I wanted romance, sex and a night of passion! I swear, I don't know too many men that would complain about their girlfriend wanting to stay in and service them...but for him, it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do. Drinking and partying was the priority.
Needless to say, he did not come back in the hours preceeding his show. I called him over and over and over again. No answer. So I called my Mother, asked her to come get me so that I would not be home when he came home. This way he could see that I meant business, his behavior was unnacceptable and that he must put an end to all this nonsense if he wanted to be with me. Hours passed, 2 am came and there was no call from him. I began to get worried that he was passed out in a ditch or maybe just came home and passed out. I could not sleep without knowing he was safe. En route to our house, I called the police, the hospitals and all of our friends....No one had a clue where he was.
I came home, and he was not there. I continued calling him over and over and over again. No answer. Finally he calls me back, saying he is at his friend's house who lives right around the corner from us and that he fell asleep. My Mom and I hop in her car, drive the one block to his house and wait outside. My ex says he is walking out of his friends front door right now and he is walking home. Yet, we did not see him. He was telling me the streets he was walking down and we drove that way, not seeing him on any of the streets he said he was at. Then he appeared crossing the street to our home. I basically told him to fuck himself and that I was done.
In the morning, he realized what he had done. That he was out of line for not calling and so forth. He came to my mothers house in Sausalito, vowing to never drink anymore, say how sorry he is and says he was lying about being at the bar and drinking all hours of the night. For some reason I believed him.
Come to find out, word on the town is he was with the local haggard drunk 52 year old Irish slut of our circle of friends. He has told me that he got drunk and hooked up with her once years ago and was very embarrassed about it. Come to find out, he carried on with this very, very, ugly and very old woman, the entire time he was with his previous girlfriend and while he was with me. This was the one time I could point to as definite time he spent with her.
My heart stopped. I was crushed. Moments in time raced back to me, piecing everything together. It was hell. I realized, the night before he was with the old bitch, he lied to me and was with the fat girl the night before. His behavior was increasingly getting worse and he was willing to look me in the eye, tell me he never cheated on me and try to keep me under false pretenses. I texted him about this discovery, gave a few choice words, disgusting sickening excuse of a sub human comes to mind, and he tried to deny it. Eventually, I think he realized my details (drunk, going to strip clubs, your friend left and you went with her), were too spot on to deny. So disengage he did.
So tonight, yes, I drank. I drank a lot. I went to a gay bar with friends, and got very drunk. The queenie bitches were just what I needed. They kept telling me how pretty I was, what a loser he must be, chimed in with the appropriate "eewww," when I described this 52 year old hag. I stumbled into a cab, from what credit card forensics has told me, and came home. Somehow I lost my wallet but managed to pay the cab driver and get in my house. I am so devastated, my wallet is the last thing I care about. Now if I could only find my heart? Oh yeah, it's crushed into pieces, strewn about the city. Fuck.
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