He remembered the first time we ever met. He reminded me as proof that we were supposed to be together and now it keeps playing over and over in my head. He was my rock three years ago when my whole world was falling apart. I tried to give him an out after only a month of dating to let him know that I was going through a lot and I didn’t think it was fair to drag him through it. And, to let him know that I wouldn’t think of him in a bad way if he ran screaming in the opposite direction. He just breathed a sigh of relief and told me he was just happy to be by my side.
Three and a half years later—three years of living together later—the same person with the heart of gold who held my hand and swore he was right where he wanted to be, the same person who told me in the same week that I was the best thing that had ever happened to him and that he loved me more than any other thing in the entire world ... cheated. He drank too much. She got close to him in a way that I couldn’t. I wasn’t a part of the job that took up his entire life. I didn’t want to be—I hated that world with a passion because of how unhappy it made him. I hated that world because of how it changed who he was. He did too. Sure, I had thought about letting him go before but I didn’t have the strength. I knew how good it was in the past and I saw a light at the end of the tunnel once he got away from this job. We would move away together (in less than a month) and we would get away from the stress and long hours. It would be as it was before ... but better.
I talked to him about the change I saw in him. I looked at my best friend and told him I had a serious problem with what he was becoming: selfish, rude, agitated. I told him that I was worried that his job was now more important than his health, his emotional well-being, and us. He promised change. He thanked me for talking to him instead of running out the door. He told me that it was because we were able to do this—say what’s on our mind and know in our hearts the other person will listen—that he knew we were supposed to be together.
He drank too much. He doesn’t know what happened. He doesn’t remember it happening. I should have left; I didn’t. I was willing to forgive him because he was there for me when I was at my worst ... and he looked so miserable, like he had killed a puppy. He told me he was the worst person in the world for doing what he did and that he didn’t deserve me. I was an emotional wreck. I yelled, I screamed, I told him I wasn’t sure if he could make it up to me. He promised me he would. And then, a few days later, he agreed that he couldn’t. He left me.
Then, a few days later, he was sleeping with the same woman he had no feelings for. He hid it from me. We were still living together. How could I be so wrong about someone I loved so much? How could someone be so willing to replace me? Why her? Why now? Why me? Will he stay with her, or will this fall apart? So many questions ... no answers. I confronted him. He said he didn’t know why he was now making decisions he never would have made before and that he was being selfish. He said he was numb. He said he didn’t think he could ever forgive himself for what he had done. He said he developed feelings for her in three days. He also said there shouldn’t be a time-limit on dating other people.
