My best friend calls me one day and she tells me that he may have cheated on me. As the person I've started to become, I try to be reasonable. I had it in me to ask him about it before I reacted. I say "learn the facts before you react." He told me nothing happened, and that he wouldn't do that to me. He told me that multiple times.
In a quick, but not surprising, turn of events, he admitted that he did. Needless to say, that was it. I kicked him out of my house, told him I hated him, cried my eyes out, threw up, and then surprisingly, went to sleep with a smile on my face.
That should end the story, right?
Well, we work together, and a week later we were made to face each other. He, unlike me, was beat up. Sad. He looked hopeless. He'd gone out that day, in the middle of his shift, and punched a wall.
I spent the whole previous week basking in my new found happiness. It's not quite the feeling you should have right after a break-up. But it was. I was told by co-workers that I seemed happier now that he was out of my life than they had ever seen me. And I felt it. I walked to work one morning smiling from cheek to cheek, just because.
But seeing him so hurt, made me hurt a little. After work, we talked and over the next month we became, well, many different things. Ex's. Friends. Friends with benefits. "Untitled." Friends with serious emotions for each other. In love. But never together. And I made that perfectly clear to him. I wouldn't let myself be the fool who got her heart broken, and then chose to give it away to the person who did it the first time.
And I'm glad I didn't. Because he did it again. And again he lied to me about it.
I was livid. A little disgusted, well, a lot, but I couldn't be mad. And I'm still not mad. The way I see it, we weren't together. Therefore, he didn't cheat on me. But he led me to believe that he was going to change, and that he truly did love me, and truly wanted to work things out between us. So in hind sight, I felt used, played, and taken advantage of.
I'm a very emotional person. I believe that I need to cry, just for the sake of crying. I'm up and I'm down, and when I'm up, I'm higher than a kite. And when I'm down in the dumps, good luck pulling me out. I'm a handful to deal with most of the time. And even when I found out what he did the first time, I put some blame on myself. I told myself that our relationship wasn't as healthy as one should be, and I had part in that. I think that's why it was easier than I expected to forgive him.
I'm stronger now. That's why it doesn't hurt. I realize through this whole "experience" that I'm not weak. I have control over my emotions and my feelings.
I realize that he is my best friend and I dont' want to give that up for the world. And I fear for him. I want to be there for him, and help him deal with whatever it is he's going through. I'm not worried about that at all. I'm strong, and I know that I can do it. I'm more fearful that he's going to push me away. I've lost a lot of my best friends over the years, for various reasons, and I really don't think I can stand losing another one. I just...I love him, and if he'll let me be his friend, I do sincerely want to be that for him. Someone he can talk to, or rant to, or cry to. I'll be that, if he'll let me.
Is that crazy?
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