I answered the doorbell to find Ally and Jen standing at my door unannounced.
“What are you guys doing here?” I asked.
“What are you doing?” Ally asked ignoring my question and pushing past me. Jen trailed behind her.
“I’m writing. That’s what I do when I’m alone,”
“And when you’re hurt, angry, frustrated, sad.... That’s why we've come to take you out for margaritas,” she said.
“I’m not in the mood. I want some alone time,” I said.
“That’s what you've been saying for the last few days. You’re coming,” Ally said. “Go put some clothes on.”
I was wearing little white panties and a white t-shirt and went back to sit at my kitchen table overlooking my balcony where I write most times. The scenery is captivating this time of year - the maple trees had morphed into the crispest shade of reddish-orange that I have ever seen. I have felt at times compelled to stop writing and stare with fascination at the spectacle. It was hard to believe that soon winter would tear every leaf from its branch and those same trees - now bursting with such pristine colors as if only in ones imagination could they be real - those same trees would be standing naked in the winter chill.
“Why are you two cuntinas barging in here ordering me around?” I asked.
“Ally said you’re sad about Michael,” Jen said. “I disagree, but she wanted to come and take you out,”
“If you’re not a little sad, something is wrong with you,” Ally said.
“Something is wrong with me,” I said.
Jen giggled. “That’s what I told her.
I was glad to see them. Actually, there was something about Michael’s marriage that left a shivering in the pit of my stomach that sat there for several days as I tried to understand the reason for his deception. It was clear that he and I were fucking while he was engaged. I found their wedding announcement and all the gory details on The Knot. It was not a slap together, let’s rush to the courthouse event… It must’ve taken many months of planning.
I looked up his wife and thought that she was a good choice for him. Both in their fifties, they work in the same industry, she has a nice title – he likes titles. Not that I don’t have credits to my name… I’ve had a long sales career in the insurance/ financial services industry. I have a BA in Communication Arts and a Master’s degree in Written Communication and I’ve decided to go after A PhD. Yet, despite my education, I am more enriched by the lessons that life has taught me.
Still, I have never nor will I ever be an easy choice. Born with the heart and soul of a writer, I do not walk a straight line and I do not follow a script. I dance to my own music. I scoff at normalcy, choosing instead to be myself. I don't care about fitting into any group. Some may say that I am downright unstable. Emotions drive me. Creativity haunts me. I am often consumed by my inner universe that forces me to bring everything inside out. I have no choice but to say, do, be, and expose even my darkest self - I do that here every time I sit down to write.
I’ve made choices that brought consequences that I’ve had to struggle through, and there have been times in my journey that I've been a hot mess. The earlier part of my last ten years, for one to see the woman I would become required the entrepreneurial mind of a man willing to risk everything for his dream – a visionary capable of seeing beyond present conditions to what great change and opportunities lies ahead. I remembered once thinking that I had to be careful not to see myself through Michael’s eyes. He saw what he called my poor choices. I’m not sure he ever saw me beyond them.
Steve Maraboli said, “...If people only see you for the mistakes you've made, if they don't realize that you are not your mistakes, then they have to go.”
So yes, after looking up his new wife, I decided that she may be far more stable than I am in many areas of her life and based on Michael's value system she was a good fit for him, and based on my value system, he was not a good fit for me.
And so, it was not that we ended or that he got married that bothered me. We were already over - with occasional fuck-dates. I was plagued trying to understand why he didn't tell me that he had gotten engaged. How could he ask her to marry him and kept coming to my bed?
Andre Malraux said, “Man is not what he thinks he is, he is what he hides.”
"Would you have spent time with him had you known that he had gotten engaged?” Tyson asked when I tossed the question at him.
“No,” I said.
“That’s why he waited three days before his wedding to tell you in a text message. He wanted whatever last moments he could get with you. His behavior, though it was wretched, dishonest and selfish, he did, because he cares for you…still. I think if I had one last moment to touch her, smell her, taste her, I would take it, even if I would be hanged for it in the morning,” he said.
“What are you talking about?” I asked sensing that Tyson had taken a rare and revealing step back into his life.
“Never mind,” he’d said picking up his paint brush.
“What did you say when Michael text you that he was getting married?” Ally asked over margaritas.
“I said congrats, with not one, but three exclamation marks, and I meant it,”
“Kit, you spent quite a bit of time with him. How can you have this attitude? When are you going to get angry, cry, and feel something?”
“I have a tremor in the pit of my stomach that won’t fucking go away,” I said.
“What does that mean?”
“I’m not sure,” I said.
She stared at me.
“I don’t understand what you want me to feel,” I said. "He and I were over for a while,”
“But you were still fucking him,” she said.
“I had stopped that,”
“So that’s it? You congratulate him and just walk away?
“Yes,” I said.
“Like a pussy?”
"I am a pussy. There’s nothing wrong with being a pussy. Pussy is the most powerful aphrodisiac on the market - ask any straight man. Wars have been waged and nations have fallen over pussy. Rich and powerful men have been stripped of their power and brought to their knees over pussy. I'm proud to be a pussy,”
Jen laughed and raised her glass to me for a toast.
Ally stared at us, unfazed by my attempt to make light of the situation. She seemed unable to get off the issue as if Michael's marriage was a personal affront.
“Why does this bother you so much?” I asked.
“It’s the principle. I would not take this sitting down"
"Take what sitting down?"
"I would confront and curse him out. I would tell his wife. I would expose him for the lying, cheat that he is,” she said.
“She knows that he's a lying cheat. He cheated on me with her. She just thinks that she is special. But why would you behave in such a juvenile manner?” I asked. “That kind of behavior is absolutely beneath me. What do I have to be sad about? Is this not my moment to be thankful that I am not the one to call him husband? He wasn’t my one. Isn’t the right thing to leave them be - no matter the circumstance? I promise you, the best thing for me is to move on with grace and style and be good to myself. I am not dragging around any of this useless baggage with me,"
The waitress interrupted us to ask if we wanted another drink. I’d barely touched mine. Jen and Ally ordered another. Jen had been unusually quiet. I stared at her seeing clearly what she did not want me to see.
“What about all that time you wasted with him?”
“Why do you call my time with him wasted? None of my past relationships worked out, are they all wasted time or chapters in my life?"
"Wasted," she said.
"The only way that your time spent with someone is wasted is if you didn't learn anything from them. And if you didn't learn anything, it's because you weren't paying attention for in every experience is a life lesson. I believe that everyone who comes into our lives brings us something of value and take something of value with them when they leave. Not one moment of my life with Michael was wasted. We had a lot of great times. We weathered some storms together. We loved, had fun, and laughed a lot. And one day the wind changed direction and our lives changed course and we were no longer possible. That’s all – and it wasn't a bad thing for either of us, our parting was just handled poorly. We complicated what could've been a simple matter," I said.
“Have you spoken with him?”
“I text him earlier this week that I wished him and his new wife much happiness, and that I meant it, sincerely. He responded that he knows that I am happy for them because that’s the kind of person I am,”
And just like that, my chapter with Michael ended. I believe that we are all chapters in someone's life story with different roles at different times in our lives - and I believe that the parts we play no matter how big or small are important.
Jen and Ally got into a heated conversation about something that I didn't care about and I drifted off into my own world. I've said here before that I don't hold on to anyone or anything and I refuse to be led by my ego. I watched my friends with curiosity. It seemed their lives are stuck in resisting the inevitable. Refusing to let go doesn't stop things from changing, life will move on and drag you along.
“Each of us has the right and the responsibility to assess the roads which lie ahead, and those over which we have traveled, and if the future road looms ominous or unpromising, and the roads back uninviting, then we need to gather our resolve and, carrying only the necessary baggage, step off that road into another direction. If the new choice is also unpalatable, without embarrassment, we must be ready to change that as well.” ― Maya Angelou, Wouldn't Take Nothing for My Journey Now