The problem with people like Lance is that they don’t know when to quit until they are backed into a corner. Which means the only reason he is telling the truth now is for selfish reasons. He thinks he can get something out of telling the truth for himself. He has no where else to go. Bastard. Selfish bastard.
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
But at lunch today I asked to see it for myself and he wasn’t sure if that was a good idea but I said, “No, I can handle it.” And so he did. And at first my heart just ached for his poor wife who either has a twisted agreement with him or who was completely in the dark. Because what he showed me was a picture from this past July of Martin on the beach kissing his wife and looking lovingly in her eyes.
There was a small blip on my radar yesterday and the day before of Martin. And I heard from someone who would know, of one last lie he told me. […]
Emotions are like that sometimes for me. I think there is no way he’ll get to me again. For goodness sake it’s been 3 1/2 months! But the warnings are real. Emotionally speaking I’ve been sucked in again. Sucked into the tumult of the waves being tossed from the extreme feeling of hate and contempt back to love and compassion. Sucked into the noise. That awful, loud, white-noise of excuses, reasons, explanations, plans, promises, and solutions. It’s confusing. Sucked into the fear and hope that simultaneously pulse through my body. Sucked into this feeling, even when I’m so angry I can hardly see straight, of being home with him.
Some say, there is no greater pain than to lose love. Some say you can die of a broken heart. And there is this time period when it feels like that is true. It hurts so much. I can certainly attest to that. But I’m starting to see my way through this pain. And part of what I’m learning in this journey into being single is that there is something very odd that happens when two people become a couple.
So it’s time for this girl to shut this door and lock it tight. Like people do front doors in New York City, with a hundred locks. If someone knocks on my heart again I will make them prove who they are before I let them in. I’m glad I stayed in contact as long as I did because now I know and I will never ever think that he was the one that got away. I will never have any regret about losing him. I was spared. It’s time for me to be done. I get being done now. I’m done with him. Done. I guess I never knew someone in my 42 years that I have ever felt that way about. He’s a first. Hopefully also the last.
Martin said he was finally ready to tell me why he disappeared and left me hanging for now 45 days. I told him I didn’t want to see him so he could chat if he wanted to explain. He started by telling me what I already knew. My strong personality frightened him. the fact that we argued frightened him. For about 40 minutes it continued like this until I had enough and asked him to get on with it.
For me it’s the two year anniversary of my meeting Martin in the restaurant in Dublin, Ireland. That was a good day. A day for me that signified an end to my despair and pain of the break up of my 18-year marriage and the dawning of a new and happy future filled with adventure, smiles, and hope.
I talked to him and he was as always heartfelt and sweet, bumbling even. He had absolutely legitimate gripes against me. But they were all in lieu of a panic that I’m sure took over him that even he didn’t quite understand. He is almost 57 years old and had planned quite ambitiously to leave his country, children, job, and all else that he knew for me. And I was looking, after 30 days, like perhaps someone who was not quite worth that sacrifice. I get that. I totally get that.