I heard a quote on T.V. today:
"I am the trafficker of broken hearts."
The words felt like a strike across my face... just like that the light in the bat cave turned on...and she was back...
I was hoping I would never return to this. I was hoping that I would never return to you, Dear Reader. Oh I've heard your calls. I've received your emails. I've felt the yearning looks from my friends.
But I hoped, oh how I hoped, that I would find happiness and wouldn't need this place. That I wouldn't need you.
But I do. Life is hard. Dating is harder. It hurts, all the time. Even more now since I haven't had you. This world was a way for me to make each heartbreak, each failed relationship, mean something.
Writing made it all worth the pain it required to create something worthy of reading. Sharing the ups and downs of my life with you helped. Helped me to not feel used. Helped me to get through it all. Helped me to keep going.
It's been a year since I last wrote you. Oh and what a year it has been! Instead of getting better my dating life became even more ridiculous. There have been far too many men for me to back track and share with you, but trust me, you would have loved them all...
I've dated models and actors...a movie Super Hero body double...a Gay Alcoholic comedian (long story) Hell I even dated the Ringmaster for a major circus.
I know what you're thinking. The same thing I am tonight. That I was supposed to be getting serious about my relationships. That the purpose of not writing was so that I could focus on the men in my life. So that I could stop creating caricatures of who they are...or better yet, stop making a caricature of who I am.
I guess I just couldn't help myself. I had formed a habit. I no longer knew how to date only one man. I no longer knew how to take anyone seriously. Hell, I no longer knew how to date someone who was serious.
So 7 months ago I made a decision to try something new. I decided to choose a friend. I decided to date someone who I had already loved as a person hoping to be able to love him as...well something more.
For a while it worked, until I noticed that the closer I got to him the more he pulled away. I thought it was me. I thought that I was the one who was damaged. I thought that I was imagining things. The two of us were close. We spoke all day everyday. He texted before bed each night. I went to all his friends parities and events. We were even reading the same books together. Everything was blissfully simple and sweet. The only thing that bothered me was that he didn't want the titles. He didn't want to call me his girlfriend.
I understood why. He had just broke up with his girlfriend a few months before us. I knew all about it. He was one of my best friends afterall. I had helped him through the breakup. I could understand that he was scared. I could understand that he felt less than. I could understand that he wasn't ready.
I stopped pushing. I mean what did I care? We were happy. I hated titles afterall so I don't know why I was so concerned about not having one.
Then it happened.
One day while leaving his apartment a girl was waiting for us at his gate. I kept walking not thinking anything of it. That is until I noticed that he wasn't following.
I turned around to see where he was, and saw the two of them staring at each other. It was so surreal. It was as if I wasn't there anymore. The only two people who existed were the two of them. I was confused.
"Hey," I said to him, trying to penetrate the bubble that surrounded them.
"So, um, you ok?" He asked in a forced nonchalant voice. I think the asshole even gestured my way for me to keep walking.
"I was up until a few seconds ago," I replied. "What's going on?"
He said nothing. I remember him seeing him gulp. I had thought only cartoon characters did that. Guess I was wrong. Apparently so did piece of shit assholes.
The three of us stood there for what must have only been about three seconds. It seemed like an eternity. She finally broke the silence.
With a flick of her hair she turned to me and said, "I'm his girlfriend."
That's when I heard it. I heard a crack. A breaking noise. It wasn't my heart. I was too numb to register anything that felt like pain. I think what I heard was the sound of the wall that I had helped build around his lies crack in my head.
You see, I think a part of me knew. I did know. Not that he had got back with his girlfriend. And he did get back with her. I know they broke up because we were friends before. He told me everything. What I didn't know was that he had decided to get back with her and keep me too...
What I knew was that he was cheating on me. Emotionally, and physically. I knew because as close as we were, he never loved me. Six months together. Six months of sex, and secretes and sharing of our lives. He knew things about me I had never told anyone. He spoke with me more than he did anyone else in his life. We laughed, and text sweet nothings to each other regularly. Things were simple and easy. Yet as close as we were, I knew that he didn't love me.
We should have been in love. He should have been my boyfriend. But he wasn't because he had decided to use me to make himself feel better about the way She made him feel.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. I knew he was seeing other people. I assumed that would be the only reason why he wouldn't want to call me his one and only. I assumed that was why he seldom saw me on the weekends. I assumed that was why I didn't see him on a few of the holidays. What I never assumed was that he had gone back with Her. That he would do something as disgusting and heartless as cheat on two women who loved him.
That's right, I said it. I loved him. I can say it now. I refuse to be embarrassed about it.
So why would I allow him to lie to me you may ask?
I've been spending the last few weeks trying to figure that out. Well not so much figure it out as try to completely bury what happened into the deepest darkest corners of my heart and mind....
I looked at him for a moment after she told me who she was. I looked at him, but didn't see. I had already deleted him from my heart. Poof! Just like that. I looked at what was standing in front of me and said, "Good to know."
I walked away to the sounds of her slapping his face.
He tried to call me 20 minutes later. I guess he had finished arguing with the person who actually mattered in his life and now it was my turn. I let it go to voicemail.
I didn't care about his explanations. I didn't need his fake apologies. I didn't want or need anything from him. He was more than dead to me. He was simply deleted from my mind.
I went to bed that night without crying. I couldn't cry. What would I cry about? None of it had been real. It was worse than a lie. It had never existed.
I had known. For weeks I knew there was someone else. I may not have wanted to admit it to myself but god I knew. And I had done nothing!
Why? WHY??
It came to me today when I heard that quote.
"I am the trafficker of broken hearts."
I did nothing because I think a part of me thought I deserved it. I mean, I don't think I believe that I deserved to be betrayed like that. No one deserves to go through that kind of pain and betrayal. What I think I believe is that I deserve to be alone.
No, that's not right either. It's more that I believe that I'm supposed to be alone. Forever.
Now how depressing is that?
The whole time I was with him I knew I was on borrowed time. I knew it wouldn't last. I knew that we were heading towards the end. Yet I waited for it to come to me. I could have called him out at any time. I could have broke things off and moved on. But I didn't. I didn't because I wanted to be happy. I wanted to not be alone, atleast for a little while.
I wanted to pretend that finding love was possible for someone like me.
I am the trafficker of broken hearts.
I feel, I share, I help others. I give advice, I encourage, I give hope. I'm a muse. I believe everyone will find someone to love, but I don't think that's in the cards for me. I've never admitted to myself before but I think that I've always believed that I need to help others and stay open and free myself.
I once said that I felt like a revolving door when dating. It's true. I've dated more people in 2 years than most do in an entire lifetime. I've given a little piece of myself to each one and I know that in some way or the other they have benefited from their short time with me.
Step right up, make a right at the light, pass on through, stop for a moment but after a while the light has to turn green again and away you go!
I don't like feeling this way. I want to change.
I never should have closed the door on WCC. I never should have closed the door on you. I thought I was writing for others. That was never the case. This was always for me. Writing made me feel better about me.
He text me a few days later. I've memorized every word by what's left of my heart.
"I'm sorry for the other night. I'm sorry for everything. There is no excuse but I am sorry for hurting you."
Sorry you got caught you mean...
That's the day I finally cried. I cried like someone had died for 3 days straight. I wasn't crying over losing him. Hell no! He doesn't desearve any of my tears. I cried over allowing him to make me lose myself.
Maybe that's what the cracking sound was. It was the sound of the light in the batcave switching on. It was the sound the door being pried the fuck open. It was the sound of West Coast Carrie fighting her way back to me.
She is my strength, my backbone, my inner voice. She is the one who will help me regain my sense of self worth.. She is my truth, my uncensored honesty. I've been half a person but it's time for me to learn to be whole again.
Guess who's back?
West Coast Fucking Carrie, that's who.
Sorry I took so long.
WCC
