You’re a Whore… Wanna Get Married?

I’m writing out my life in a timeline, so to experience my story the way its supposed to be told, start at I Was That Girl In School… then proceed chronologically by post date.

The day following Boyfriend and my breakup, I met up with the Bloke during lunch to fill in the blanks of what happened. After numerous apologies from him saying he felt guilty of what he had caused, I assured him that my relationship had been over way before the night prior; I was just too blind to see it.

He began to empathize with me, telling me that he and his wife had been rather distant and that he had wanted to talk to her about it, but couldn’t find the words. He confessed that he would confront her that night about the state of their marriage. I expressed my support for him and made sure he knew I was there if he needed someone to talk to as he had been for me.

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Later that day, Boyfriend texted me: “Can we talk?” After everything we had gone through, and how abrupt the ending of our relationship was, I agreed. He met me at my apartment after I got off from work. We sat down in the living room and for the first 10 minutes or so, neither one of us spoke. I figured, he was the one who wanted to talk, so he should be the first to talk. Call it childish if you will, but remember: I had already mentally checked out of the relationship weeks prior.

Once he started talking, he couldn’t stop. He had a bad case of verbal diarrhea and nothing he said was in anyway helpful to the situation. He belittled me. He called me names. He attacked my character. He brought up my past and threw it at me like it was something I deserved to have experienced. I began to cry at the horrible things he was saying, and he became even more angry over the fact that I was upset. “I’m the victim here!” he would exclaim. He would ask me a question, I would try to respond while breathes were caught in my throat, then he would twist my words to use to his advantage and make himself feel better, all the while making me feel like complete shit.

This lasted for 2 hours; me sitting there, crying, while he attacked me over and over and over. I didn’t deserve it, and finally, I had enough; I left. Even though it was my apartment, there was no way that he was going to leave if asked to, so I did. I got in my car and drove with no destination in mind. I picked up my phone and called the Bloke. He was the one I turned to in my time of need, and he was exactly what I needed at the time: a friend.

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The following day, the Bloke and I met again for lunch. He told me that he and his wife had separated. He confronted Mrs. Bloke the night before about their marriage, saying that he didn’t feel as connected to her as he’d once been. He said that she was shaken up about it and decided to leave and be with family, taking the car that the two of them shared. I volunteered to drive him around until he could find other means. I then told him what Boyfriend had put me through with the verbal lashings. We were there for each other. We consoled one another. We were both so lonely and found comfort in one another’s friendship.

Boyfriend texted me again asking for a do-over. “I shouldn’t have let myself get to that point,” he said. “It will be different this time. I promise.” I agreed to dinner with him.

I came home to a cleaned apartment: vacuumed floors, cleaned kitchen, the randomness of everyday life had been organized. There were candles lit on the dining table with two plates of food waiting. Boyfriend asked me to sit and read a letter he wrote. He said that it was a summary of what he was feeling. In the letter, he expressed that he was under a lot of stress at school and that he didn’t know how to handle it, so he was not acting like himself. He said that he had overreacted when he broke things off and that he never wanted to end things. He apologized for what he had said to me the night before and hoped that we could move forward from everything.  After I finished reading the letter and looked up, Boyfriend got down on his knee and proposed marriage to me.

No. I can’t marry you, especially after last night! Even if I were to say yes, what on earth makes you think that marriage would fix our problems? It won’t; simple as that. If anything, we need time apart to figure out what we want out of our own lives. 

I told him that he was being unfair. You can’t treat someone so poorly one day, then turn around and propose marriage to them the next day, knowing full well that that was all they once wanted from you. Yes. I wanted nothing more than to get married and live happily ever after, but as they say: that ship had sailed.

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I was reeling. How dare he propose to me! Yet again, I left the apartment. The Bloke was stranded in town waiting for me to drive him home. Once I got to the bar where he was waiting, I started drinking (which is very out of character for me). On our way to his house, we stopped at the liquor store. I wanted it to be over. I wanted to numb the pain that Boyfriend had caused, and for once in my life, I looked to alcohol. The Bloke and I arrived to his house and just sat and talked about anything and everything (in between sips of whiskey).

Unexpectedly, there was a knock at the door. I was too ‘loaded’ to give it a second thought, so the Bloke went to tend to the guest. Next thing I knew, Boyfriend was standing in front of me. “What the hell is wrong with you!? I understand you not wanting to get back together with me, but to ruin someone’s marriage too!?” He told me to get up; that I was going with him back to the apartment. After mumbling my refusal, he commented on my lack of smarts for being intoxicated and left. On his way out the door, he got in the Blokes face and threatened him: “Don’t you dare touch her!”

But how did Boyfriend find out where the Bloke was living you ask… Boyfriend had looked up the Blokes’ wife on facebook and got to chatting with her, filling her head with lies. Can you say psycho!? But not just that. Once Boyfriend left the house, he drove 5 hours and 2 states over to where the Bloke’s wife was to talk with her. Who the hell does that!? By the weekend, I had enough; enough of the phone calls, text messages, emails, facetimes, all of it. I wanted to get away from it all and the Bloke agreed, so we hopped in the car and hit the road.