A Lover and A Lie

I am a rather forgiving soul. You can hurt me and I will probably forgive you. If you do it again, I may forgive you again. Some have repeatedly hurt me and I have bared the pain, because I thought the person meant something to me. But there always comes the day when I turn my back on you. Something in my brain suddenly snaps. I have had enough.

This act is done completely. Whole-heartedly. There is no half-guessing my decision when I get to that point. Yes, sometimes it takes awhile for me to get there. Sometimes my thick skull makes it so I go down a long path before I make the decision to change, and in this case, cut someone of my life.

But maybe that is why I give them so much leeway, because I know that when this corner is turned, there is rarely any going back. Maybe that’s why sometimes I have to be hit over the head repeatedly in order to realize what’s going on. Sometimes I have to get a concussion before I change what isn’t working in my life; however, when I do, it’s like a light has been turned on.

It took me four months to get here. But moments after those words fell from his lips, there was something about him that changed. In moments. There was a sharp, sudden difference in life when this change happened. Everything before me changed and all five senses reacted. I saw the World around him differently. My eyes actually perceived him differently.

He changed right in front of me. Although he may have once been handsome to me, utterly beautiful, he was no longer good looking. He may have had the most perfect, chiseled body, but it didn't matter. He may have had the deepest, beautiful brown eyes, but it didn't matter. He might have had the most delicate lips, but that didn't matter. He may have had the ability to send light through my body when he touched me, but that too faded away.

I don’t ever want to touch him and I don’t want him to ever touch me again. Not even in a public setting. Not even as a courteous gesture. My body is off-limits to him now. I don’t want him to touch some place he’s already been. Even if it’s my knee, my hand, my face, my cheek, my hair. There is no reason for him to anymore.

Here, I realize my perception has altered. His weaknesses appear on his skin. Thirty-three years of bad decisions appear on his face. Four years of hell appear at the corners of his mouth. In dark swirls in his brown eyes. His faults and imperfections radiate off him. His smell doesn’t lift me anymore. And, finally, I no longer taste him. Anything that may have lingered has evaporated.

And I never judged him for his past. Or his part in his past. I never judged him for doing what he did. Even when, of all people in the world, I had a reason to. I put aside my own past. I accepted him for who and what he was. And he threw lies in my face. Knowing full well that they were lies. Maybe that is part of the reason this turned out the way it did.

Why is it that you have to sometimes go through hell in order to see the truth? Why is it that you have to hear a complete utter lie come from a man’s lips in order to realize that it isn’t you, but that his self-worth is nearly inexistent? Why does it have to come to you hurting so much in order to take a different road in life?

So this is one way that I react.

Another way is that I completely alter my lifestyle. I woke up at 6:30 this morning – after leaving him standing on the sidewalk at 2 AM – and sat down at my computer. At 11 AM, I will start a daily routine of working out with my friends, John, David and Steve. After today, John and I will start working out at 8 AM. I am ready to get back into shape. I am ready to get back to being healthy.

Another way is that I write about it, as I am doing now. As I have been. I have two projects that I am working on right now and it is like having two roads before me. Both projects are extraordinarily different from each other. While one is more experimental, the other one is based on aspects of this fling. (Word of advice, playboys: Don’t ever screw a writer, she will write about you.)

So, as I sit here, I ask myself: “Which one to take? What story to work on?” Both are worthwhile projects and, somehow, I want to write both. Only thing is that I have to have something ready to show in two or three months time.

So, maybe his lie is a blessing in disguise: Now I have the desire to truly finish what I started.