I'm done with you

I have been crying, a lot.

I have finally recognized the three people that make into the three independent me.

1. The all together mother wife daughter hard working professional with little to no issues. Loved by many.
2. The oversexualized sex symbol who will seduce and entertain men and women and explore the city's many fringe culture and be as comfortable as fish in water
3. The abandoned little girl who was not loved by her parents, who was crying and heart broken, at age 11, already suffered rape and molestation, despite her good grades, she was left at a military hospital all alone, her father, physically and emotionally abusive, volatile, and a serial womanizer.

The broken hearted 11 year old is the one who plays a dominant role with B. She bends backwards for him, she will do anything to be loved by him. She wants a different outcome than her 11year old self, she wants B to see it, stop deceiving her and love her back like she deserved to be loved back.

I cried in the car, I kept on saying, "I need to leave, I need to leave, I need to leave." I am staying with these thoughts because there may be something at the end of this. I am telling myself I have to leave B. The only way to break the pattern of loss, deception, hurt, damage, and sadness is for me to walk away. Where I could not walk away as a 11 year old little girl, seeking her father's approval, having her idol be gone all of sudden, where her father failed to love her back, where my father failed to protect her and yet, as a child, she cold not leave my father on her own intuition.... I am repeating it, again and again. I must leave B, I must leave B to stop the pattern.

Perhaps the freedom I will gain from leaving B for good, to stop loving him, to finally not care about anything he said, to finally no longer worried about who would take him away from me, is the only thing to set my 11 year old self free.

I still love B, I still hope he'd say "I will be with you from now on." But I know he's already with someone else, and I cannot trust anything he says. He is more worried about the mother of his children to find out about our relationship because "she'd be so upset", than to worry about me getting upset about staying in the dark. While he tells me that he loves me and needs me to love him back, he gives very very little in return, attention, affection, and the most agonizing piece of all, the lack of time. I have always a future with him, he never put me on his priority list. he has demonstrated over and over again he did not love me, in fact the only time he had for me was an hour, half an hour, stolen moments where he could get his rocks off and then he was done with me. The time he has given me are getting increasingly rare as he continues his pursuit of newer women, and retaining his family and work life. I had asked for one thing and one thing only, a brunch for my last Christmas. It never came. A weekend away, it never came. It will never come because he does not give much thoughts about me, despite his words of "I love you's" and his empty promises, I serve nothing but a sex toy. In those moments, to cope with that disappointment I end up reverting to the second version of me, the one who is oversexualized and simply want to please men. That was how I coped it all along.

The time he allocated for me was getting less and less, and every night he went back to her house, and every night he stayed there. He was not in fact just taking care of their children together, he was in fact having a full on relationship with his real girlfriend and the love of his life. He was not interested in me, he has long set me aside as a replaceable toy and that was where everything ends and everything starts.

I have to say goodbye to break the pattern of abuse and neglect. I cannot and should not love him. I must leave him like he never existed in my life. I thought that I could will a different outcome if I just showed him how much I loved, adored and admired him, he would love me back in a way I deserve to be loved back. I thought by being with him I could save that 11 year old. But, I thought wrong. I need to leave him, to not save the 11 year old but to let her die. She has to in order for me to take a stronger presence in this present life. 

I may linger a bit as the over sexualized person I was, in his life, but that eventually will end too.

I have figured out the root cause, now it's about reflection and final execution.

Goodbye must be said to the little girl, when I close that door, the other door will open. I know it. I'm hopeful.

Goodbye B. I cannot and will not say this to you, but you have been a total asshole and manipulative, deceptive, cheating bastard. You are the pure reflection of my father when he was your age, and I'm done with you.

New Cognitions

My girlfriend found out that her husband of 10 years, who has been traveling for work, every week, has been cheating on her for the last few years. The details not important but she's divorcing him. The situation forces me to reexamine my interaction with B, and it made me realized a lot of things that I did not know before. I'm at a brink of discovering myself and I'm sort of excited about it.

It's not about my sexual abuse it's about my father who was traveling a lot, cheating, being verbal, emotional and physical abusive, and eventually he left me and my mother. At age 11, I suffered a heart break and was sent to an unattended military hospital. I laid in bed crying and wishing that there was something I could do to get my father back. I idolized him and did everything he told me to do and more, and then he beat the crap out of me and my mother and said horrible things to me, and my mother, and he cheated constantly, ever since I had memories, he was out cheating and fooling around. Eventually he moved away to another city, and he took his mistress / secretary with him and we did not know if he'd ever back again. When my mother confronted him before he left us for the one last time, he also beat the crap out of her. I was heart broken and my heart stopped working, in that I developed irregular heart beat (yes a real heart break) and they had to send me to a hospital. Abandoned and unattended, the military hospital housed soldiers from the boarder dispute war between China and Vietnam, the kids were about 18 years old, farm boys, and they were in rehab and they took care of me, I cried and I cried and wished that I could do anything, something to bring my father back. I kept on asking me, have I done anything wrong? Was I not enough? Did he ever love me? If he ever loved me how could he leave me? I would do anything to get him back, I would endure his beating, his verbal abuse, his moodiness, his lack of relationship with my mother, just to have him back in my life.

He never did come back. For year and half my mother worked tirelessly until she got herself a job in the far away city, and she and I moved to the city where my dad had shacked up with his mistress and eventually got the company to fire the mistress and moved us back in together. By then she was a changed woman, she started going out and she started to date others, and meanwhile my father developed a taste for another woman whom he shacked up with, then another, then another. My mother's heart was so broken that she attempted suicide. To avoid any further drama, I left home when I was 13 and went into a boarding school. Miraculously the only thing that I ever was good at was academic life and it was that life that sent me to the States when I was fifteen. Alone once again, I had to live a life all by myself and raise myself, and when I was 16 I was told that I would be in jail if I returned, it was the year of Tiananmen Square incident, and I was blacklisted. 

My father was deceptive, a liar, and a womanizer. I wanted to form a different relationship with B so that eventually I could will a different outcome. He's hot and cold and he rewarded me when I listened to him and he disappeared when he wanted to. I kept on thinking one day he'll change his mind and love me and we'd live a happy life together. I could take care of him, impress him, and be together with him. 

Maybe he'll be willing to leave his family like my father did and be with me, maybe he'll see how much I loved him and he'd be with me and not abandon me like my father did.

I was not trying to change him even though I might have appeared to do that. I was trying to will a different outcome to save that little heart broken girl.

I never did save her. More shit happened and then she came to the States and had to be forced to face different set of difficult circumstance. I never did save her and I was trying to figure out why I was having such a hard time letting B go. I am still trying to save her, through my relationship with B who was in so many ways, just like my father. 

What my girlfriend's reaction taught me was that if I was a normal person, I should have been upset, but I was not. I thought the only way that men could behave is by cheating and by being with other women all the time, emotionally distant and unavailable, and paid only a little attention to me. That's why whenever B paid any compliment, paid any attention to me, I was so elated. I was happy that he still remembered me, and he must still miss me and he wanted me to be in his life. I told myself. I was only just one of a dozen yet I convinced myself that I was special to him, I meant something to him, because he often told me that when we were together, I thought when he said that he loved me, he meant it. But he did not, his action spoke louder than words. On the week when he had his birthday, when I asked to see if I could come to visit him, and when he said no and I sent a big bouquet of edible fruit and chocolate to him, he later told me that he was fucking a woman he hired to work for him, he fucked her multiple times that week and then when she was out here, he fucked her some more. I thought to myself, of course he's allowed, he's allowed to do anything he wants, because as long as he loved me, it was okay, but how could he really love me when he only just wanted to fuck other women? How could I be so naive and was convinced that he still loved me when he really did not care about me, he fucked other women for god's sake on a week where he told me that he was too busy to see me? He stayed on Saturday that weekend so he could fuck her more. He told me that he had to stay in Philly longer to be with his friends. No he had to stay longer so that he could fuck a new woman. These are the things that my mother did just to keep my father, and here I was, doing exactly the same to myself.

What my girlfriend did to her soon to be ex-husband was every self respecting, strong, courageous woman would do, she put an end to it because she knew that he was not worthy of her love. it brought everything to light. I tolerated B like I tolerated my father. I behaved as if I was my mother and I idolized B because I was convinced he was the only way for me to feel alive, the pain, the agony, the sorrow, it was all that I could ever deserve, because as a little girl, lying in the hospital bed, waiting for her father's return, was a girl who's heart was broken, and she never healed. She was hoping one day she could be worthy of his love, only that she should never wished for that, she was better than that, she was a loving, kind, generous woman who was loved by many, and she deserve so much more. Yet, for years and years, she thought she needed his love, his love was the only way to save her, to save that little girl, to revert time, to change a past, and to create a future that she knew that she wanted, to be his and his only and to love him and be loved back. "As long as he loved me. I told myself. as long as he wanted me and desired me. I can endure. I can love him the way I know how. To be selfless, to be forgiving, to be faithful. To love him is the only way that I could save that little girl." 

My father never came back for us. I never could save that little girl. B never knew that he hurt me so much so, he could not change and will not change. He did not care if I was around or not. There would always be others like me, who needed him to figure out their own issues. He was deceiving, manipulative, careless, and unloving like my father was. 

There is no amount of love and devotion could change B's mind. He would never be mine. He would never hold me and tell me that everything was going to be all right. He was never the man who could save the little girl. That little girl is dead. She's gone. She'll never be saved. Her father left her and that was the end. 

But I, I'm not the little girl. I'm a grown woman. I can and will take care of myself, and I must, I must say goodbye to the little girl who was abandoned by her parents, after suffering through rape and molestation at an even younger age, at age 11, her heart broke for good, and  she never came back to life. I must let her go. I can't save her. B can't save her. She's dead and I must let her go. 

I am close to discovering myself. And one day I will be ready to say goodbye to this version of me. I will be ready to leave everything behind. I will be able erase B out of life, like he never existed. I deserve more. I need more. The bond is broken. I'm at a brink of discovering myself and when I complete that journey, I'll be ready to let go of everything. 

I am hung up, is this the beginning of a real end?

When he said to me that his baby mama would be disappointed and sad to find out that he has a girlfriend aka me, it made me pause. Why would she care if she was simply co-parenting with him? Did she expect there would be more from it? Did she in fact in a relationship with him? Is he cheating behind her back? Did he make her feel there is already more? Is he actually telling me the truth? Does she love him and does he make her feel that she's the one? Are they really a couple?  If all of this is true then what am I doing here loving him? He's already loved.

I must play a secondary role in this and I don't want to be his primary object of affection any longer. I should exit left center stage and let her be his main relationship and I will no longer want to participate in this triangle of emotional mess.

I don't like to compete. I don't ever compete, certainly not when she already has the man and I entered the scene late. I deserve more. I need to feel that I'm the number one in a man's life - if I loved him and if he loved me back. If that is not happening, then I feel abandoned and discarded. The only way for it to work is for me to be a mistress, and as a mistress, you stop loving the guy you are with because he's NOT yours to begin with. You take sexual pleasure in forming that relationship and you expect nothing, absolutely nothing in return, maybe a pretty necklace here and there, maybe a nice meal here and there. You give heads. You spread your legs. You say all the right things. You expect nothing, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING in return. you demand nothing, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. And you seal off your heart. For your heart deserves more than that. You want true undying devoted untainted love. You will do anything for that person. That person who is worthy of you.

Maybe I have been defeated. Maybe I never had a chance. Maybe he never wanted me to take a center stage in his life. Maybe that person, that role has already been occupied. But no matter, I will take this as a defeat and handle it with the grace of a woman and not the grief of a child.

I will desire him for a while but this may be the beginning of a real end. It's not because he stopped loving me, it's not because he wanted me to leave, it's because he did not ever intended for me to play a big role in his life, and the more I have gotten to know him, the more I realized that he never really desired me the way I need to be desired and wanted. He only liked me so that I can be his sexual partner. He needed not me to take care of him. Some other woman, his children's mother already does that to him. He needed nothing more than just occasional fantasy fulfilled. He needs constant new. I gave him a false sense of stability even though he already has it with the other woman.

I am not his, he is not mine. He never was mine and he never will be. This is the beginning of a real end. 

Adultery

"How long have we been hanging out?" He asked.

"Two, Two and half years?" She said reluctantly. 

They both went quiet and calculated the time between the first time they met and now. He was 31 and now he was 34. She was 39 at the time. 

"Eight years is a good number of years". She said. He agreed. 

They sat at the kitchen's breakfast nook, she's sipping a glass of kombucha and he was drinking a beer. He loved beer. He brewed beer at home and drank it after work. She found that she liked men who drank beer. He had grown his facial hair back so that he was looking the way she remembered again. He was very tall, with blond hair and blue eyes, the typical Swede look. She was admitting to herself that his good looks was what kept her in this relationship, for as long as she did. 

He was trying to start a family with his wife. And they had started fertility treatment. She asked him, "Are you still going to fuck me when you have a child?" He said, "Of course, that's the plan." 

"You know, children are over rated. You will miss me more. Your wife will pay less attention to you." She said it not to convince him but to convince herself. She had none of her own children, but she had two step children from her marriage to this man who was seven years older than she. That made the two men fifteen years apart, she calculated the gap between her lover and her husband in her head. 

The young man smiled and started to strip his clothes, then he was taking off her dress. She giggled and laughed. He positioned her on the top of coach, and started going down on her. She moaned.

With him, she climaxed easily and readily. It did take almost a year, but once she was able to do it, she did it every time, it took that long to get used to this man's body, and vise versa. 

Earlier this evening, the man showed her a park where it was often deserted at night. "We should go out there and fuck." He suggested.

"I'd like that." She concurred.

"When was the last time you fucked outside?" He asked her.

"In my twenties. I was twenty five. He lived in Telegraph Hill. We hiked the Coit Tower. I fucked him on the path going up the hill and then sucked him off." You always remembered the first of everything, apparently.

She made a mental note of future activities.

In her bedroom, the house where she lived alone sometimes, she turned off the overhead light and turned on the bedside lamp. He tried a few positions with her and kissed her non stop. 

Kissing was always a funny business. To some it was an expression of emotional connection, to many others, she and he included, it was a way to express lust, and intensity. When they had been together for as long as they did, sex was always good, but intensity was getting harder and harder to achieve. But at least, their sneaking around added the excitement.

Her roommate was out. She used her roommate's spare key to open the greenhouse patio. There laid a day bed where she was able to lay out, spread eagled, facing down, as he entered her again, this time, from behind.

An hour had passed. She climaxed and he did too, shortly after. 

They took out their calendar to see what's available to them. Hard to know, and he told her about his pending surgery. She would leave town just as he was out of the hospital. she apologized. He did not mind, he would need time to recover.

When it was all over, she was putting her knee high boots back on. He touched her toned legs and marveled at her calves. "Your calves are amazing. You have some athletic legs." He meant it as a compliment. She was always soft and feminine, but her exercise regiment had gained her muscles she did not know existed. She was always in shape, but in her middle age, she found men thought of her as athletic. She liked that term more, a lot more.

"I will see you soon." She said. He had to leave as well and she was feeling exhausted. it was only seven, but the day was getting shorter and the evening was getting longer. She thought that she was coming down with something as well and she needed to nap before heading home, to her husband, who's almost fifty, and his teenage kids.

On the way home she thought about how he answered yes to the question her posed earlier about whether or not he'd still want to have sex with her after his child was born. This was what happened with men who became addicted to her. She was always a good lay. She demanded very little and she supplied what they needed and did not get often from other women. She loved giving heads, hours on end, skillfully she gave heads. She let men be men and experiment with her. And she was kind, nice and comfortable with the gray area in life.

"Are you going to have sex with me after your child, children were born?" She asked.

"That's the plan. I still want that from you." He quickly answered before covering her lips with his kisses.

"I'd like that too. I like being the other woman. It's always more fun to be the person who's cheating, than to be cheated on." With that, she unzipped his pants and covered his erection with her mouth. 

Hesitation

He invited me to dinner, for my belated birthday, at a place by his work, it would be easy for him to get to, it would be easy for him to say goodbye, it would be easy, and it would be the end. I felt. Just when I started to fall again, to love him again, this happens. It always happens, it serves as a warning, that he was not good for me, good to me and he was only there because I could provide him with sexual pleasure.

I think that at some point, we became close. Closer than most, and closer than we had ever before. A short little trip that bonded us, a very bright future that consisted of him and me, yet he would not let it happen. He who preferred to living alone. I wish that it was the case always. I sensed that he did not have that many real friends. I sensed that he was always polite and comfortable around women. I sensed that he never felt the same of masculinity until he met me.

I think he has a real, romantic relationship with the woman whom he fathered two children with. I think he is cheating behind her back with me. I think when he said that she did not know about us, what he really meant was that they were actually together raising children and be a family. They not only do things together as a family, they are a family. She provides him with children, a house that she owns, a good career, and perhaps sex. He's only not getting laid on occasion, when she's tired, when she's no longer interested in sex because she's got two young children, he looks at other women. He kept his place for business reasons and probably uses is a tax write up. He does not tell her that he still keeps it to seduce women. He lives a very private life with her and the children, and I suspect when she found out that she was pregnant, almost immediately he moved in with her and started to have a life as a committed person, while he still uses all of those travel opportunities to screw around with other women, but in San Francisco, he is with her and her only, and with the occasional flirting around with other women like myself. I think he was very communicative when he needs to be and he shuts down when he knew he was attracting too much attention.

I think she watches him like a hawk and that's why he is not available to see me very much.

I think he does not tell her because he is worried about her finding out about me. I'm perfect for him because I will never cause a fuss.

I am beginning to see that there are a web of lies, and that everything that he presented to me was just so tiny bit of truth, and I remain a small little piece of entertainment.

And I'm tired, and I lost faith, and I am heart broken, and I'm quite honestly unable to trust him, ever again. If that's the case, then perhaps the real ending is near and I hesitate, to move forward. I am more inclined to just say good bye. Leave on a good term, because when there is no trust left, what is there to go on? 

He and I will be no more

I have stopped, finally, the urge to write to him. I think I'm finally at the point of wanting time for myself, to digest and to accommodate the data I have received recently. One single data point, that really changed my view of this relationship forever. A Sunday ago, none of this existed, a week later, everything has changed.

The vision of growing old together, me taking care of him, that northern night, evening walks on snow covered path, that vision that seemed to have forever etched in my head, that one future that I could not begin to imagine to alter, is disappearing. It now looks like a melted snowman, dripping in water, the carrot that made the nose, half fallen, the sticks that made the arms, lying on the ground, the scarf that was wrapped around the snowman's neck, now the only thing that remain intact, though it has now been stumped on, near the last bit of ice that was once a handsome snowman.

That vision of future was disappearing faster than I could imagine, that vision of him and I, together at last, was becoming more of an abstract painting, he was leaving me, and I must leave him before it destroys me. There was never any future, never any promised exchanged hands, it was just a mirage, an illusion, a self-soothing binky.

What if, what if he was never who he said that he was, what if, what if the only thing that was true was when he said, "Don't leave your husband and to be with me, you would be disappointed". What if, what if by adding and accommodating the new fact, I must go back to the last three years, and recount every single event, and find those holes in his story and then try to assimilate everything again? What if none of what we had was ever true, and everything was just a lie? What if he never intended to proceed with this, other than some empty promises, endless lies and his occasional lust for me? And if so, why did all of this feel so real? Why did he make me feel so loved? I'm not a high schooler any more, I don't have crushes. I develop meaningful relationships with people who deserve my attention, I follow my gut instincts, and yet with him, my gut instincts were rather confused.

What if he already had a family? What if he was cheating behind his back by being with me? What if his child, children's mother, loves him and expects them to be together like a family for the rest of their lives, what if he is well on his way to become that father to their children, and  husband and lover to her? What if he wanted nothing from me. What if he was only trying to hide everything so that I could continue to be at his backing call, to be his sexual being?

I found myself retreating. I found myself wanting to bail yet again. But if I retreat, and stop loving him, then the whole thing would come to a natural end.

He and I will be no more.

this is how a heart break feels

Are you alone? Are you lonely? Am I not enough? Do you love me? How much do you love me? Do you know that I'm hurting? Do you care? Does the world end and a new beginning will be just as gloom? Will you love me till the end? If some dark truth was revealed and you did not tell me but I found out about it on my own, do you think we could repair our relationship? Do you think I could still love you the same? 

What if all of that are yes and I know my answer ought to be no? What if the other shoe would drop? 

What if I have run out of excuse for you and I must leave before my heart breaks into millions of pieces again? Why is it so hard to love you without my heart breaks? Why then do I love you?

Suppose I stopped breathing. Would I die? I have stopped breathing on an occasion, heart pounded in ways I didn't know it could. I had stopped wishing for anything to happen, but one day it did happen. I have never ever felt so at peace, until I knew that I could be with you. I did not you to make my love to me. I just needed you to be next to me. 

My heart was utterly content and my soul rested when I was with you. I was no longer conflicted and devastated. I was able to be me when I was with you. I stopped crying that night because I knew we'd have another night together, and another morning. 

I found myself having an out of body experience. I watched this woman falling and she could not get up. I found herself crying to sleep and I wondered why she was this way. I could't understand it, because you had caused so much pain, yet I couldn't imagine a world without you. 

One day that's what I wanted from this. One day you and I would be together, you'd be old and gray and I'd be weak and frail, but we'd be holding hands, and never have to wonder when we'd see each other again.