A large part of me wanted to call her, talk to her, hear her side of the story. Find out what kinds of bullshit he’d been feeding her, then there was a small part that couldn’t bring myself to admit that what was happening was real. The desperation and hurt in her voice was familiar and I felt for her. I replayed her messages over and over until I couldn’t stomach anymore of the self-inflicted torture.
I guess he thought I’d never find out, about all the women, the lies, the infidelity, the betrayal. But like most men he got comfortable, got sloppy and undoubtedly got his ass busted.
From the beginning the relationship was a game of cat and mouse, I played hard to get mainly because he just wasn’t my type, but after months of a never-ending chase I gave in and decided there was something I liked about him. It wasn’t that he was overally fine or that he was swagged out like Victor Newman from Young and the Restless (as a matter of fact he was none of those things) that finally made me give in, it was the fact that he never asked anything of me and accepted me flaws and all. In knowing that, I relaxed my standards and allowed myself to feel. I just knew that this would be the one. After a short time I settled into my relationship and made one big mistake, I became complacent, I got too relaxed and let my guards down. One of the biggest mistakes a woman can make in any relationship is believing that she is exempt from being betrayed by her man.
It was years of having a blind eye to the warning signs before I finally woke up and took a sniff of the roses. I once saw a quote that said, “Real Eyes realize real lies”. I overlooked it at first then thought back on its meaning once the closet flew opened and the skeletons began tumbling out onto my feet. I am a young woman who once believed there was a such thing as fairytales and happily ever afters. Prince Charming and magical mirrors and shit, yes that’s me. I’ve long since let go of girlish ideals and become a realist when it comes to love and relationships, I do however still believe there is a such thing as the big bad wolf ( but that’s an entirely different can of worms that I won’t bother opening right now). I will be the first to admit that finding out that the man I loved wasn’t at all what he seemed was a huge slap in the face from Karma. I thought I had expemted myself from her wrath by changing my ways, but she sure showed me I was wrong. I had allowed myself to become completely open and ended up in the middle of whirlwind shit storm. The first flashing red sign I ignored was the way he and his ex had ended their relationship. She and I weren’t friends, but we were well acquainted and had mutual friends. I had bumped into her one day which I would later find out was the day they ended their relationship. After knowing her for a while I never saw her as the weak, crying over a man type but that day she was. (Should’ve known then to run in the opposite direction) It was year before he and I even got together after their break-up, like most new relationships it was all good, everything was great. So I totally blindsided when I came across pictures of him and some woman a few months into the relationship. Not just any pictures, if I remember correctly the caption read “Such a cute couple” and was dated two weeks. Like any angry woman I confronted him and immediately I was the crazy one. I was delusional and what I saw was my imagination. (That’s how men will play you if you let them, make you think you the one doing something wrong.) Should’ve made a beeline for the door then, but nope I stayed. That was Chante’, she was nothing to really look at it so I couldn’t understand the attraction and looked like she wore Elizabeth Arden Red Door perfume.
Then there was Andrea, till this day he has no clue that I even know about her. She was a school teacher and the one crying and begging on the voicemail. Just from listening to her messages I knew she was weak and would stay with him no matter what. She even had a pet name for him that threw me for a loop, and should there ever come a time that our paths cross I’ll ask what the hell a “SugarLeg “ is. Being the investigator that I am it was easy to access photos of her and she too was not a sight, she put me in the mind of Donkey from Shrek with her big teeth and wide mouth. She was no more than 115 pounds soaking wet, she had dark skin and gold hair a combination so unattractive. I wondered if she knew about Chante’ and vice versa. As if two was not enough then there were three, there was the lady with the 303 area code who was pleading her case about loving him and not wanting to end things on a bad note. And finally there was the one with the 772 area code who knew all about his mother being ill and apologizing for not being available but she too loved him and referred to him as “Babe”. Finally there was Erika, she is the baby mama that I’m sure none of the above mentioned knew about because even I had no clue he had a three almost four-year old daughter until some information about her dropped in my lap. Unlike the above mentioned women I know about all of them and had enough sense to realize that I was in a relationship with a man who was single and “everybody’s man”. I had the inside scoop on him and all his hoes, who appeared to all be different from one another and nothing like me. I never questioned myself, I knew it was his need for validation as a man and a need for variety that made him a whore. Up until this very moment, I never told him that I knew about any of his women, but he knows now.