You cheated yourself

How many ‘he cheated on me stories’ can you write before you realise that you’ve only been cheating yourself by choosing a certain type of boy to attempt-date?

But, fuck it. I love a good cheat story, so here goes…

Dating is one of my hobbies.

By presenting myself with the disclaimer “Writer” it’s fair to say I come with a warning. When I’m on Tinder, it’s the first word ‘about me’. Potential dates know I write about my experiences. I even send links. This recent asked nervously if I’ll write about him when it’s all said and done “depends what you do” was my honest reply.

But seriously, you’d want to fuck with a writer?

You want to try play a blogger that writes about dating online? Turns out, it was a yes. Big mistake.

Single for stories

So, here’s how he lost the girl in 10 days…

The recent big bad wolf, disguised in Clark Kent glasses, was a ticking time bomb. His pursuit was intense: creepy, wonderful. For our first date he hired out an entire bowling alley (candles, table for two, waiters at our beck and call). Each date was weirdly wonderful. I have a thing for ‘different’ and this was strange.

I’ve confirmed why I like to choose – because when I’m hunted, it’s usually by a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

After a month we kissed and when his friend called to check up on him, he said he was dating me. It was sweet. He had to get permission to visit me because (here’s the red flag where most of you would have run a mile)… because he is an ex-addict who lives in a half way house. Yes, I know. It’s as bad as it sounds. But I was learning about a whole sub culture: recovery. Meetings. Anonymity (still don’t get why we can’t talk about it but I’ll respect it). And I’ve always wanted one actually in recovery so this was a past boyfriend fantasy made real – the part was just played by a different character.

So the debt, borrowed car, halfway house and a host of other things too horrible to mention, I figured:  maybe he’s here to teach me something? People get better. They change. Well, they do… they change addictions.

To relay the actual deal breaker:

He managed to sleep with 3 girls in 2 days (that I know of). One of them was decent enough to message me on Facebook, letting me know. He’d sent her pictures – a literal selfie of him naked in bed with the poor girl’s friend – with his own text confirming the day he did it. Multiple women, same day servicing , I mean just, no. Not my vibe hey. Not my vibe. Obvs he denied selfie-saturday chick, but who knows? Anyway, what sick fuck takes a pic, to keep months in advance, to use as a break-up weapon? Next level cray.

We were never going to be bride and groom, but I was interested to see how this one would play out. I had inkling the day before I found out. His phone was on airplane mode. When I asked why, his immediate reaction was ‘Are you being a crazy girlfriend?’ – so complete avoidance of the question, deference and name-calling.

If any man calls you crazy – red flag!

Ladies, darlings –he’s hiding something! It’s usually followed by ‘Now you’re imagining things’. Take it from a person, who takes on most red flags, this: is a sure fire sign that something is up!

The next day, I got the Facebook message; spoke to the side chick and ended the ‘attempted relationship’.

His madness was quickly revealed: anger, lashing out, denial, some truth, then a little bit more – enough. The verbal abuse “Fuck you!” blaming the confessor “She’s bitter and crazy and a liar. You’re letting her win!” (Um, suffice to say, he was no prize.) Then my favourite, “I’m going to call it!” threats to end the already terminated one chance relationship attempt. I had to laugh. I pointed to the 12 steps, out the door.

Boys like these live for the chase. But once they get you, they destroy it.

It’s the idea of you they want – not the reality.

And it’s nothing to take personally.

Moles cant see.

Some people are sick and while it’s sad, you don’t have to stick around to wallow, wading in the wake of their self-destruction.

I don’t like the idea that only bad boys cheat or that it’s my entirely fault for my dreadful choices (um: Beyonce anyone?) I tried a new experience: addict in recovery. Tick. It failed. The probability was more toward inevitability but being unrealistically optimistic I took a turn down a new path. The fantasy that ‘here was a man who had changed all by himself’ was irresistible to me. To overcome an addiction would be such a powerful conscious choice. To replace it with another, that includes hurting multiple women through lies and deceit is just, meh, really? It’s boring.

He called me a week later to ask if I thought he should date side chick. So does that make me swapped out as side chick? At least she got her man back. You go girl! Didn’t work out though which is a shame for the couple. Maybe selfie-saturday will get another chance? Who knows how the other stories will play – I’ve written myself out.

I felt a bit bloated after that binge. So I took a 2 week detox and then… back on the wagon.

Some people collect stamps. Me? Stories.

Imagine I find a man who’s more interesting in life than he is written on paper? Where an ending isn’t in the foreseeable future. A boy I’d want to keep reading? A real boy. Not fodder to fuel my creative juices…

 

Ha. Whom I kidding 😉 Life ain’t no fairy tale.

I’ll keep you posted. x