There were many a commando nights for the next several months.
My first year of teaching was unfolding, stress was getting deep enough to drown me, and I needed some sort of relief. Thankfully, I knew where to find it. In David’s pants. Sure, our relationship wasn’t progressing like any other that I’d been involved in, but he was a distraction from all things stressful and my sexual needs were being met.
It’s funny. At the time I honestly believed that I was in love with David. David believed I was in love with him too. It would’ve been difficult for him not to. I told him I loved him everyday, in hopes that he’d (someday) return the sentiment. David’s broken heart (from Grace) still kept him a bit jaded. And, when I tried to feel better about how our relationship ended, I said that it had to have been impossible for him to love anyone. It had nothing to do with me.
His abundance of sexual partners previous to our relationship probably made our sex seem boring. This got me thinking. Could monogamous sex ever be as entertaining for David when he was used to sleeping with anyone that he wanted at any time? Sure. I thought so. But what about with me? Doubtful. He couldn’t tell me that he loved me. My opinion? Love has to be alive and well for monogamous sex to stand a chance against 17 other girls who would supply the goods without much dedication. Men and their fucking hunting tendencies. Divide and conquer, find the strong to procreate with…gag. Give me a fucking break.
I was a great girlfriend to David. I was supportive of his hobbies and, in an attempt to bond with him over one of his biggest loves (video games), I became quite the expert at Guitar Hero. We played house well: he helped me pick out my dog-son, Huckleberry, he went with me to test drive a new vehicle, and he stayed with me (we took turns cooking dinner) every night. Playing house was fun sometimes, but I was miserably depressed. David couldn’t tell me he loved me even after a year and a half of dating. I knew I was fighting a losing battle. His departure was imminent and, unable to stop this from happening, I did what any ‘self-respecting’ girl would do; I pushed him as far away as possible and waited for him to cut ties. That way, I’d look like the victim and he’d be the bad guy.
How? I’m the queen of snide comments when I want to be. I dare you to try to make me more miserable than I can make you. I’m not proud of this trait, but I’ve come to grips with it. I can be a total heinous bitch. David knows that. The good news? Now that I know, I am able to choke out the bitch before she does irreversible damage. But anyway, back to David:
He was going to leave me…he just didn’t have the balls to do it. Why? He thought I loved him and, in his brain, he didn’t want to hurt me the way that Grace hurt him. Of course, we all know that’s not how it works. He dodged enough that I allowed myself to start believing that he wasn’t leaving. So, when he did, I was more heartbroken than I would have been had he done it when he first started thinking about doing it. Yes, David leaves (and succeeds as a dead-beat-dog-dad). Here’s the story.
I was gearing up for a week-long vacation in Jamaica. My best friend (Ellen) was getting married there, and to make the trip extra fun, we’d decided to stay a week.
David had been away (training for work) for two weeks. He was in California and, based on our few phone calls, seemed to be having a blast. While catching up, he mentioned talking to a girl from home that he’d never met. They had a mutual friend who knew that David worked for the company for whom she was interested in working. David was giving her pointers on the application and interview process. He felt good about being able to help someone. She was appreciative. Her name? Stacey. By the time I got back from Jamaica, David and I went without seeing each other for three weeks and talked very little. I was away…and appreciative Stacey was close by (David had just returned from his work trip). Great.
Jamaica was fun. By the end of the week, my best friend was married, I’d become an Advanced Open-water PADI Certified SCUBA diver, and I was ready to get back home to see my absent boyfriend. Maybe our distance would make him realize what he had and maybe he missed me.
He picked me up from the airport and we headed straight to dinner. Crazily, upon arriving to Buffalo Wild Wings, I ran into my friend James, who had only spent 4 days in Jamaica. James had his camera with him and came over to my table to show me pictures (when David excused himself to the restroom).
James: “Your boyfriend is carrying a murse.”
Me: “Murse? Oh right, a man-purse. Ha. Yes, he is. He calls it his ‘bag’ though.”
James: “Never thought of you as the type of girl to date a guy who out-dressed you. He’s very ‘pretty’ for a dude.”
Me: “Are you implying that he’s prettier than me?”
James: “I think you’re beautiful, Fina. (long pause) Here, let me show you the pictures.”
David came back to the table and James, rather awkwardly, excused himself.
We went back to David’s place after dinner. He jumped online and, within 30 seconds of signing on, received an instant message from someone I didn’t recognize. She was blonde. Young looking. And, honestly, I thought her grill was a bit jacked and her hair looked cheaply colored and horribly curled. She was a cute girl…but in a white-trash kind of way.
I asked David about her later that week when I saw her post on his Facebook wall. She asked him about his favorite type of cookie. My suspicions started to grow. They were talking quite a bit. I was seeing David less. What was he keeping from me?
It was Stacey. The whore that seduced him away from me.
In reality, I was pushing him away but the fact that some other bitch was so eager to let him into her arms (and other warm places) was not exactly how I planned our relationship to end.
The night before my birthday, David came to pick me up and buy me dinner. I was planning a girl’s night the following evening, so we were celebrating my birthday one day early. That celebration turned into the night that David dumped me.
I don’t know why or how he decided it would be appropriate to take me home, lay in bed with me, and then (only seconds before I fell asleep) tell me that he couldn’t do it anymore and he needed to go, but it happened.
I wasn’t too upset. Like I said, I knew it was going to happen at some time. Nobody likes being dumped, but I was relieved that I could spend the next night out with my girlfriends and leave the David drama in the past. (If you’ve been keeping up, the next night is when James and I had our terrible make-out session. I guess I wasn’t exactly heartbroken after all). That’s exactly what happened (bye-bye David, hello new chapter).
Unfortunately, my ‘it’s okay’ sentiment didn’t last long. David and I were still friends on Facebook (at least at that moment) and my newsfeed explained that he was tagged in new pictures. Naturally, I wanted to see what they were. Stupid move.
There, in his bedroom, standing in a stupid prom-pose were David and Stacey looking happy as can be. And, only two days after that, David’s relationship status changed. Yep, they were officially an item.
The real kicker? I didn’t know at the time but Stacey had blocked me from seeing her page. So, when my sister called me to tell me that she’d seen pictures of them kissing in his bedroom…that were taken previous to our break-up…I was a bit surprised. Even more shocking? My picture was hanging on his wall, less than three feet away from where they stood.
Plan = totally backfired.
Stacey = expletive, profanity, expletive.
David = on the receiving end of some very nasty comments, emails, and blog posts. Loser.