You probably clicked into this one for one of two reasons:
- You were cheated on by your ex and want to know what I’m doing to get over it, or…
- You want a juicy, rant-like, gossip-filled blog about my ex-boyfriend’s sexcapades before, during, and after he was my boyfriend
I actually don’t know if this is going to fulfill either or both of those curiosities, because when I write blogs I tend to just ramble in any direction until I feel I’ve written enough, then I post it to Facebook (not the best blogging style, I’ll admit…) .
Here’s the scoop: Many of y’all know about my ex. I dated him for a year and a half and we split when I moved to Montgomery because we had no idea when we would meet again. We were both hoping for a chance at coming back together sometime down the road. He recently admitted to cheating on me…a lot…during the bulk of our relationship.
Frank Sinatra and his wife, Ava Gardner
photo courtesy of abriegrowsinbrooklyn.com
Note: after a bit of consideration, I’ve decided to change my ex-boyfriend’s name to Frank Sinatra, who was a thin, blue-eyed, lady-killer who knew all too much about jazz and thought the world of Ava Gardner but still cheated on her for who knows what reason.
What have I been doing? I’ll tell ya. I:
- Went crazy. The frequency at which my feelings towards him and the situation changes leads me to want to institutionalize myself. Sometimes, my brain looks like this: “Whatever. I don’t need to deal with this. Life goes on.” And sometimes I remember the relationship that I thought was so fantastic, and I am overwhelmed with a flood of emotions that somehow make me feel both incredibly angry and incredibly sad at the same time which results in a total feeling of numbess and I text him and say “how dare you, this could have been something incredible”.
Actually…I’m willing to bet he’s not gonna wanna talk anymore, after this post.
- Got a new gentlemanfriend. Not a boyfriend, not a “friend with benefits,” not a liar (at least, I don’t think…).
It’s nice. It’s whatever. It’s not a move to replace Frank and it’s not a move to distract myself. It’s just…a gentlemanfriend.
Dear Gentlemanfriend: sorry to drag you into this. You’re stellar.
- Blogged about it. Not my classiest move. I’m already regretting typing this. #YOLO
Ask me about how I feel about all of this.
I’m going to pretend you actually asked me right now.
Here is me responding to you hypothetically asking me…
There is a lot I am struggling with as far as being 1,300 miles away from him goes. Of course there are the feelings of disgust and betrayal that I’m dealing with, but there’s also the “well, how do I feel about him now?” element. After all, our companionship was a treasured time in my life. Perhaps after this doozy of a public display of nuttiness he’ll write me off as the crazy ex-girlfriend who shouldn’t be trusted. Or, perhaps, he’ll own up to everything I’ve exposed of his past behavior. The latter option would be nice.
Ok, here’s me putting on my serious squirrel face and getting down to some serious squirrel truth:
I have put a lot of thought into this post. It has been edited and re-edited more times than I care to admit. Why am I even publishing it at all?
And, just maybe, he’ll realize what he meant to me and how much this incident shook me. If we don’t get back together when we’re 30 years old and a little bit smarter, I hope that whoever he does end up with doesn’t ever endure the same experience.
My problem with yelling at Frank then ditching him forever is that…dealing with this nonsense is hard, yo. I’m not made of stone. And we were in love! Lots of love. I don’t even know if I want to ditch him forever.
We had a very, very good relationship. It is impossible to deny that.
…even though he was a lying bastard.
I’m coming to terms with what Frank has been saying about himself for a long time: he needs to grow up.
Something I can’t relate to behind his reasoning is that he tends to use “I’m young” as an excuse to be sexually promiscuous. He seems to think being 21-years-old justifies his behavior. My brain responds to that thought process like this:
Wait a second…I’m 21….and I figured out a long time ago that cheating=bad. Am I doing something wrong during my youthful years?
My sister-in-law, Nikki, has a 4-year-old son. His name is Riley, and he’s awesomer (it’s a word – I swear) than your 4-year-old son. Riley’s biological father is an asshole. Riley’s biological father is one of many men Nikki encountered in her younger days. She married my brother when she was 25 and is now one of the few women I look up to. It’d be nice if Frank became my Nikki.
Now here’s the “but”: only time will tell if Frank will “grow up.”
I wouldn’t mind touching bases again with him in several years to see if either of us are over it. Who knows, maybe he’ll have a 4-year-old daughter. Or maybe he’ll have a longer list of females who hate him for his behavior. Maybe they’ll all be bloggers. Maybe he’ll have lots of blogs on the internet written about him by all of his lovers and ex-lovers. Maybe I’ll be running for President of the United States and a member of the media will dig this up and then I will regret writing this. What?
Only time will tell how this goes, I suppose. I’m not counting on a future with him. But it’d be nice if our lives intersected again one day and things were different than the way they were the day I left him.
Step 1 of 1: Get over it. Move on. Eat a comforting bowl of mac n’ cheese. Do all the things he didn’t want you to do while you were together and vow to never, ever, treat someone else the same.
Handling this isn’t easy. I hope, some day, we’ll come to a respectful, balanced place with each other.
The words in this post are the things I want the world to know regarding my feelings towards you. A similarly honest display of your emotions would have been nice when we were together, or even now.
You know about the celebrity blogging opportunity. RPS’s readership will be awaiting your response.
I want to marry a Nikki. Not a Frank Sinatra.
Your psycho ex-girlfriend
P.S. I really am sorry if this has affected anything between you and anyone you may or may not be dating right now. I’m not sayin’…I’m just sayin’. You told me they knew.
P.P.S. Keep my blue V-neck.