“I could be great like Tennessee Williams,

if I could only hear somethin’ that sounds like the truth.”

~ “Lies” Elton John

The last time we met was nearly a month ago—anything could happen. One of the conditions of our revised agreement was the pinky swear, so if she veered off the side of the pinky swear road and onto the path to nowhere, she couldn’t blame me. While waiting anxiously to see her, she messaged me that morning about our meeting time.

ANYA: “Looks like 1:30 today. Hope that’s ok with you.”

Anytime worked fine for me these days after losing my promotion to partner. Tired of feeling trapped inside my apartment, I brought the laptop to The Good Morning café a couple of hours before our meeting to fire out some resumes. Upon reading my journals the night before, this meeting marked our ninety second face to face interaction. Since I no longer did accounting for businesses, I now accounted for the only company that mattered to me. Peering out the window outside the café at the world around me, a world I suddenly found myself thrusted in, it astonished me how many people were in the coffee shop—at a time I believed most people were too busy making a living. A packed coffee shop at eleven in the morning meant the recession hit more people than I believed it would. It was bittersweet knowing that I wasn’t the only person having a hard time finding work. The job postings were minimal on this day—most of them were opportunities I had already applied for. Money wasn’t much of a concern, I had enough to last me for a year, but I also didn’t want to lose all I saved up. I was on the cusp of a house purchase and I didn’t want to lose that dream—the chance to build some equity. I had also saved up for travels to Tahiti, Seattle and Europe with Anya. My dream of a proposal under a lighted Eiffel Tower still reigned supreme in my head regardless of all the negativity.

At fifteen minutes past one, I ordered a hot green tea for myself and a non-sweetened passion iced tea for Anya. Then packing up my laptop, I went to my car and sat there waiting for her to arrive. Taking note this was twelfth day of August, I started reminiscing about the time she visited me a year ago, while walking ahead of me at five in the morning, her pony tail bouncing up and down, leading me to my own apartment in the dark--a beautiful morning together. Remembering the happiness of that moment compared to what I felt during the week brought me chills—I couldn’t believe how things have gone so downhill. The feeling of excitement to see her never faded, but the fear of what I felt afterwards, or what she might say when we saw each other was greater. Feeling Jackson’s stalking of me on Facebook gave her grounds to leave him, I feared my emotions would inspire me to say the wrong thing. If no trust existed in her marriage before though, it was now official—there was no trust in their marriage. How could she possibly repair the most significant thing in a marriage considering the history of gross infidelities between them? They didn’t have to get into the details with their kids, but at this point, Jackson and Anya, both owed it to them to be honest about the inequities in their marriage, and how important that was to have—that they should settle for nothing less but an equitable and honest partnership with their future spouses. They could make it amicable for their benefit, but Jackson’s money seemed to be the real reason why she stayed—not because no one would be with her because she had kids. I loved her so much, I didn’t know if I could be upset with her for being dishonest about that. She owed me the real reason why she remained married to Jackson, but she viewed our connection as too overwhelming for her to discourage me. In other words, being honest about the reason why she was still there was truly what she couldn’t help from doing. How could I be upset at someone, especially someone as stunningly beautiful as she was, who wanted to be with me that much? For us to experience all we did without pause then throwing out “what about my kids?” card, branding me a homewrecker and her an adulterer was really hard for me to accept. If we were having sex in bathroom stalls, then that would be understandable, but she led me to believe there was goodness in us. If she didn’t truly believe that, then it left me to feel betrayed. My negative emotions were spurred by her perception of the damage our love would cause others after being allowed to love freely.

When she arrived, her hair, face, scent and clothes in beautiful order, she told me she “only” had a half hour. Handing over her drink, I told her I understood. As soon as our usual drive to Cascade Park ended, it didn’t take more than a few seconds to catch up on lost time. After fifteen minutes of groping and kissing, she fired some questions at me—a side of her I hadn’t really experienced before. Her line of questioning was far from prodding—asking about my back, my mom, my job search, and my therapy. Just having her in my direct line of sight only enhanced the wonders of any drug I took to deal with the daily anguish of not being together. When I tried to talk about us and how hard it’s been, she would just fire back with another sweet question, refusing to abandon our pinky swear agreement. She truly wanted to savor the moment and it told me what I really needed to know—she had no plans to give up on us.

“I think you must be out of the white truffle oil.” she stated, smiling.

“Oh no, I still have so…” I replied, before getting her point. “I mean I’m out! I’m all out!”

She leaned into me amused at my response—it healed me just to hear her laughter. Her subtle way of wanting an excuse to come visit me just meant the absolute world to me at a time I desperately needed to feel her love again—consistent with her texts about loving and missing me more than ever since our time in San Francisco. She then showed me some knuckle abrasions and new bruises and looked up at me to tell me it was from kickboxing—no doubt they came courtesy of the turmoil Jackson caused us. I’m sure some of the things I did made her angry as well, but she was my life and losing her didn't just feel like a death sentence—it was a death sentence. I felt bad about the grief I gave her because I loved her to death. Her father, Jackson and then there was me she had to deal with. I just wished my mind was overruled by heart so I could feel her suffering. It was hard when I suffered too and part of my anger was not being able to wrest away my heart from my mind. My wicked haunted past of disappointment put our relationship in jeopardy as much as Anya’s indecision did.

After softly rubbing my finger against her tiny knuckles, I looked upon her glowing tanned face, leaving me speechless. Every time I got lost in her, it felt like the first time I felt love for her. The way her entire face lit up when she smiled just floored me each and every time. And I was a lucky man simply because something I said inspired her to floor me. The way she looked back at me; I knew this feeling would never hit me the same way ever again if I lost her. All I could do was pray that my mind wouldn’t crush my heart. As we drove back to where our cars were—parked next to each other just like we were at the moment. An eeriness fell upon me—an unexplainable ominous sense—like this would be the last time we will ever see each other. Then again, I treated every meeting the same way; never knowing when, or if, I’d see her again.

After watching her jump out of my car in a rush and into hers before driving away, I felt a sudden sadness I hadn’t felt before. Thirty minutes came and went like it was thirty seconds--that’s all the time we had now—maybe all the time I was worth. A thirty-minute fix before my emotions ate me alive. Leaving me to worry that even with white truffle oil in tow, her love seemingly morphed into a relationship of convenience, and maybe that’s why it felt like love to her. She only loved me because the relationship existed on her terms.

When she left that day, it felt like it would be the last time I’d ever see her. After returning to my apartment, I got distracted by a new “ping” instant messenger feature on my Blackberry phone.

ME: “PING!!! I loved seeing you, I miss you. You smelled sooo good!”

ANYA: “Thank u for my tea! It was really nice to see u too! I miss you and I love you!”

ME: “I love you!”

Her uninitiated “I love you” lit me up inside, helping me get through the day. When I didn’t hear back from her that evening, a feeling of insecurity raged inside me enough to send a good night message.

ME: “I loved seeing you today. I don’t care if it was only for a half an hour, it was worth every minute and I cherished it. Just wanted you to know I love you and I had fun today. It was a good time. Goodnight.”

By instant messaging her, I could see if she read it or not, and she did but never responded. It brought me back to my online dating days before I met her—when I noticed a potential date read the email I sent and chose not to respond. Although it didn’t feel the same, but it kept me up a little later than it should have on this night.

The next morning, Anya alleviated my fears.

ANYA: “Good morning! Thank you for the message last night. It was really nice to see you. Thank you for meeting me and my tea which I finished!”

Her text didn’t feel as loving as mine was. Fighting back my sensitivity to something that was likely the result of a frantic morning and day for her, I responded.

ME: “Good morning! I can’t believe you finished the tea!”

ANYA: “I did! It was perfect! So whatcha doin’ today?”

I always held out hope there might be a chance to see her whenever she asked me what I was doing, so I purposely made myself look available to her.

ME: “Eat lunch. Oh, and take my pill. I don’t know Riley personally, but I feel like I’m living his or her life.”

ANYA: “Wow! Well u enjoy Riley’s life!”

Her response felt a tad rigid to me—it didn’t seem we were on the same page. I then recalled to when she told me she was doing her nursing CEU’s but doubted she would ever go back because it would hurt her financially. That maybe she was bummed I wasn’t looking for work so she could leave Jackson and start our future together? What I hadn’t convinced myself of yet, even as I fired resumes off and heard nothing back, was how mentally exhausted I was. Eight years of the grind of public accounting busy seasons and my own emotional struggles with Anya had taken a toll on me without me realizing it. It was also completely possible that the Zoloft left me feeling careless—making me complacent with my current work situation. In what was becoming the worst recession in this country’s history, this was not a good time to become lackadaisical. I decided to lobby a return back to her.

ME: “What r u up to? Why am I tired?”

ANYA: “Workin! Lots to do! What else! Ha! Just leaving to take Andrew to his tutor! You’re a night owl!”

ME: “You’re an early bird!”

ANYA: “Yup”

ME: “Wish I was an early bird though.”

After this exchange, I recalled her tears from the other day, likely brought on by stress and fatigue. If anyone was emotionally exhausted, it was Anya. On top of the stress, she faced as a mother, it broke my heart to know I caused a portion of it, if not all of it, with my emotions. To see her bruised shins and bloodied knuckles, there was no doubt she felt the same emotions I did. One thing was certain, she handled them a lot better than I did. With a mental job, I couldn’t turn to a punching bag or kickboxing dummy for a few hours a day—I needed something to help throughout the day. With the onslaught of emotional anguish, I felt each day, I worried if I could ever work in public accounting ever again—not being mentally strong enough anymore.

When I figured she may be at lunch, I sent her an IM.

ME: “How’s your work day coming along? Lots of work huh?”

When I didn’t hear back from her, I sent her a few more follow-up texts.

ME: “I’m sure you’re stressed out. I don’t know how you get any work done when you have to run the kids back and forth too.”

ME: “You’re an amazing woman.”

ME: “Just thinking about you.”

ANYA: “Ha! That’s just it! I don’t get any work done! That’s why I’m always playing “catch up”! I never do actually catch up!”

ME: “I know, babe! I don’t think anyone who does all you do would catch up either.”

ANYA: “Ha!”

I told myself I wouldn’t text or message her. She didn’t seem to be in a good mood today so I decided I’d just let her be, but a few hours later I texted her anyway.

ME: “How’s your day going?”

ANYA: “Just picking up Andrew from Bday party then making dinner then back to football practice in Los Al.”

ME: “Ok just seeing how ur doing.”

ANYA: “Thx for checking. Just busy. How r u?”

After telling her “I’m doing good”, disappointment festered when she stopped sharing her true feelings about her life at home with me—at a time Jackson hounded her. It brought me back to our very first meeting—when she told me her husband promised before they were married that she wouldn’t have to work, yet now that’s exactly what she did. She tried to reel me in with that but it wasn’t enough for me to buy it. In order to make a better sales pitch, she then made a date with me to let me know even more—the real hook she put in the water. And I bit down hard on it, because I identified with her emotional anguish. Then I did the unthinkable—I walked away from her because she was married. Not because she had kids, because she told me they were “baggage” no man wanted to deal with, but because she was still married to a douchebag. When we reconnected, and she told me I had broken her heart, I did the unthinkable once again—I put all of my trust in her that she never would misrepresent her situation to me. Now, I came to learn she did just that. She told me a version of the truth when we met in the beginning, but never the entire truth and now I suffered greatly for loving her. Even worse yet, she judged me for caring about her—for being loving enough to trust in everything she told me. The more she acted differently from the girl I trusted, the more I began to believe she betrayed me all along. I didn’t know whether to love her or hate her for the love she gave me. I just hated feeling this way and I couldn’t believe someone who truly loved me would ever allow it.

Before I went to bed, I IM’d her to try to give her good feelings at a time I felt they were beginning to wane.

ME: “I was just reading a message you sent me on March 5th of this year. We hadn’t seen eachother in over a month and you asked me “Does your mom go in for chemo today?” And then you followed “I could meet you towards SP if u want.” First you remembered the days my mom had her treatments then you offered to meet me towards my Mom’s house. You’re such a sweetheart. I’m just missing you. Have a goodnight.”

Her love for me had changed, morphing into the physical so she could distance herself emotionally from me—like men who cheated on their wives usually did. If Anya viewed our relationship the way Jackson treated his, she would look for no reasons to leave, and I’d never see that promise she promised, that she would be with me if she fell in love with me, the day we decided to give it a try. Careless feelings created from Zoloft alleviated most of the pressure I gave her, but this also aided in me not caring to find work—suppressing my drive for success that helped me handle all urgent matters. It only made me forget the urgency in all things allowing more room for stress.

The next morning, Anya responded to my message, but not through an IM, but rather through a text.

ANYA: “Morning! Hope you had a goodnight!”

I knew she was stressed out and unhappy, but I felt my text warranted a better response from someone who claimed to “love” me “more than ever”. It felt like walking right into a buzzsaw each time I texted her now.

ME: “When you get a chance, could you fill me in on how you’re feeling and what’s going on these days at your home? Thank you.”

ANYA: “I’m good! Just going into KB! Will message you when I get out. U ok?”

Kickboxing classes have become popular outlets for people to take out their frustrations on a punching bag. Her knuckle abrasions and leg bruises told me she was far from good these days. I had lost my job and struggled to find work. She told me a man needs to know a woman can change her mind in a split second. A woman needed to know a man’s worth is defined by his ability to make money. If she believed I was “good”, she should know better.

ME: “I’m ok just getting a different vibe from you ever since FB. Just let me know what you’re thinking. I have no clue.”

Her “Morning! Hope you had a good night!” text after what I sent her the night before felt both cold and cruel. I wasn’t looking to argue with her—I just needed to know what she was thinking since she never communicated much with me anymore—claiming she was afraid I’d “overanalyze” things like any man who truly loved her with his entire being would. When I sent this text, I didn’t think I’d hear back from her for hours, but she texted me right after she was out of class.

ANYA: “I don’t like where I am in my life.”

ANYA: “I’m constantly stressed out and I don’t like it.”

When I read her texts, I didn’t know how to interpret them. Did she see me as adding to the stress in her life and viewed me as the problem? Then I thought back to something she told me a while back—that she never felt stressed when she was with me, just happiness. What she shared wasn’t about me, but about her. The stress came from her knowing what she had to do, but not having the strength to do it. A major reason I fought for Anya was because I didn’t like to see her being constantly stressed. It could easily take her life one day and I refused to allow that to happen without a fight. Jackson didn’t give a shit—I did.

ME: “I understand. Well, let’s talk after KB. Heading to the gym. I’m just going to run for a half hour.”

ANYA: “Have a good workout.”

There are moms who do the world for their kids and their husbands, but could you imagine doing so much for someone who betrayed you? Then if she were to leave, her husband would villainize her to their kids, telling them “Look at what Mommy did to Daddy!”. Jackson had stalked me through Facebook, ran to the head partner at my firm and cried on their shoulders. After his sense of entitlement caused me to lose my job, he began to hound her every move. Jackson thought he was destroying me, when he went out of his way to deprive his wife of the happiness she deserved in life. No matter how upset I’d get at Anya for the times I hurt because of the important things she should’ve told me when we reconnected, the truth was I wanted to see her happy—even if it was with another man. By staying with Jackson, after watching him try to destroy her as if his cheating wasn’t bad enough, I started to believe my love for her would likely have to be sacrificed. As long as Jackson remained her husband, she would never be happy and that was just fine with Jackson. He didn’t need to be loved as long as he had her—his female employee. Was being in love with someone who respected, honored and cared for her the trait of a bad mother? According to Jackson, it was. Worst of all, she likely believed it because of his wealth and what it provided to Katie and Andrew. And those kids deserved the best things money could buy them, but it should come under an umbrella of truth and not from under a cloud of deception. When her dad told her this was all her fault, and she had friends who judged her for not getting off the pot, the stress of being viewed upon as a bad mother likely took a toll on her—causing her to be cold to me. Who should she listen to? Her family and friends? Jackson? Or me?

After I finished my short run, I responded to her.

ME: “Thanks! Just got back.”

ANYA: “How was it?”

ME: “It was good. My back doesn’t hurt which is a plus. How was yours? How are your knuckle and leg bruises doing?”

ANYA: “That’s good! Bruises still there but whatever. Part of it I guess.”

I found it hard to ignore. She’s been kickboxing since I’ve known her, but I’ve never seen bruises on her legs or scratched up knuckles before.

ANYA: “So what’s on the agenda?”

ME: “I’m getting back on the job search wagon again today, but I have a therapist session today too.”

ANYA: “Good! I have to get going now! Really under the gun! Have a nice day!”

ME: “You too!”

What Anya revealed earlier, her constant stress, and how she hated her life is all I fought for her to change. I didn’t fall in love to hurt kids or to break up a family, but to save a mother from her emotionally and mentally abusive narcissistic husband. The only way I could do that was to be there for her and continue to love her—hoping she’d follow her heart and choose life over a false sense of duty.

When she sweetly texted me back a little later that early evening, I informed her of the outcome of my day.

ANYA: “How was your day?”

ME: “It’s been good. My therapist appt. was cancelled. She forgot to log me in her appt. book! It’s ok though. How was your day? Feeling a little better stress wise?”

ANYA: “Oh I’m sorry. Oh well happens. Good just trying to get stuff done!”

ME: “Yea, she wrote it down on my appt. card and didn’t log it in the book. I didn’t feel like talking anyway. Guess where I’m at?”

ANYA: “Where?”

ME: “Sorry I know you’re busy. I’m at the movies again. Going to see “District 9”.

ANYA: “Great! Envious of all the movies you get to see!”

ME: “It is! Haha! Sorry, I probably shouldn’t tell you. It’s only a temporary thing though then I’m back to catching them on DVD! Take it easy over there. Wish I could see all these movies with you.”

Even though she never responded to my last text, today had a good feel after she shared with me her honest feelings. Even if they didn’t favor me, that’s all I needed from her. Anya revealing that she didn’t like where she was in life and didn’t like being constantly stressed was what I needed to hear. Who could blame her? She always went beyond the call of motherly duty, and all because she wanted to feel loved, honored and appreciated by someone for all she did didn’t make her love for me wrong. Would I have wanted my daughter to be with a man like Jackson? He’d be expected to take care of her emotional well-being in addition to providing for her.

The truth resided within me and her, a truth I trusted she would embrace—a fact she could no longer run from or suck it up for. Although she was being good to me, Anya didn’t seem to be the same loving person since Jackson invaded my Facebook account. After San Francisco, she loved and missed me more than ever, but it didn’t feel that way. I understood Jackson’s curiosity, but knowing there was zero trust in his marriage from its inception was completely hypocritical. Was he piling on more work for her and adding activities for the kids to do since Facebook, such as the Boston trip? I knew she was struggling and I didn’t want her to worry about me, or us. I fought back from pressuring her, refusing to let my emotions get the best of me, but it felt like she was slowly phasing me out of her life. Of course, I hoped for a promise but “one day at a time” was fair—especially after some of the things I’ve said. She’s right—I couldn’t take them back and they put her in self-defense mode. She could come visit me any time and I’d still stick to the plan, but her love seemed to fade away too easily, and it was hard for me to adapt to after learning over the years what felt right and what didn’t.

The summer posed a hard time for her to see me because the kids were now mostly at home instead of in school. Although I wasn’t working and had more time to text her, I treated our communication as if I was working, afraid to bug her. This also made me more sensitive to any slight pulls away from me, especially when she hid her unhappiness and what she struggled with at home from me. If Anya was unhappy before she met me, how happy would Jackson watching her every move make her? I felt certain Jackson would add more things to her plate to make her too busy to see and communicate with me—the most likely reason for the increase in kickboxing intensity. Not to mention, she not only would start driving Andrew to football practice, games, and Katie to dance, but in two weeks she would also start driving them to and from two different schools. One school was stressful enough for her but now two? This would only make her an unhappy camper, especially if Jackson continued to tail and hawk her, but the shit would really hit the fan without me in her life. It broke my heart to know all she struggled with and she expected the man who loved her to be okay with that? To just stay in line like the rest of them? This was a moment to love her and if she didn’t allow me to, then how could I believe she loved me? I’d jump at the chance to take away her stress, so she could fall in love with life again. She may lose fifty percent of her kids, but they’d get a hundred percent of the best mom if she left Jackson for me. Knowing the kind of man I was, I knew the kids would be just fine if we were together. Running around the way she did, there was no way she could convince me that she and the kids were in a safer environment than they would be with me.

By two p.m. the following day, I hadn’t heard from her and naturally began to worry. I almost reached out to text her but decided against it—afraid it would cause her more stress. If I were to lose her over Facebook then I likely had nothing to lose. If she allowed Jackson to win, then I had to go for it. If she wasn’t going to defend our love because of a fear of obligation, regardless of the peril it put her and the kids in, and jump back into a relationship of deceit and dishonor, Jackson had to be confronted about it. I wouldn’t look to get into a fistfight with him, but in the way any civilized human being would fight for love when they believed in it as much as I did. As her lover, after all we shared, she couldn’t deny me the grounds she allowed and encouraged me to walk upon for twenty plus months. Why should her kids be made to believe their parents had a normal marriage when they had a marriage that wrecked lives? Did she want her kids to be in loveless disrespectful marriages one day too? That what was good enough for mom was good enough for Katie and Andrew? If marriages were unrealistic anyway, why wouldn’t she share that truth with the kids?

Anya knew from day one what I was all about, making it no secret what I stood for and against all the world stood for, even telling her I always believed in love—that no one would cheat on someone they truly loved. For some reason, Anya was starting to prove me wrong—that cheating on someone you love was a natural thing—obliterating my belief in true love. My strong belief in love, even after all the times I’ve been crucified for it in the eyes of the women I cared about, I never hid from her. I fought with her because I loved her and her response to that was “I have to go since you want it now”, but all I wanted was a promise we both deserved if I couldn’t have her now. If she couldn’t deliver me with a pact to leave, after doing all she ever required of me to leave, then I had to stick around for the truth as to why—the real truth why she misrepresented herself. If I were to leave now, my life would be over—it was that simple. I wouldn’t be able to go on living a lie anymore. If I didn’t believe in love anymore then I’d never be happy again. As much as I wanted to be sensitive to her “situation”, there was the expectation for her to know how much I believed the lie of her marriage should no longer exist—much like a factory that pollutes the environment. I wanted Katie and Andrew to have and expect more from someone they loved in life. Not just money and things, but every and all things. Especially a contract that their mother and father believed was unrealistic. When you truly loved someone and married them for all the right reasons, marriage was more than realistic. If their mother wasn’t brave enough to come forward, then I’d have to sacrifice myself and pray that Anya’s love would defend me when pressured to do so. I’ve come too far; felt and shared too much for her to believe her kids would be hurt if we were together.

About an hour later, a little past three, I broke down and texted her.

ME: “How r u? How’s ur day? R u ok?”

ANYA: “Yes at a memorial.”

ME: “Ok. Sorry to hear that.”

ANYA: “Thx. How r u?”

ME: “I’m ok too. Just hanging at home.”

Every memorial and funeral Anya attended, it provided me with hope—that she’d realize we weren’t promised tomorrow, life was too short and she needed to live a full and honest life. Did she truly want to go to her grave with resentment in her heart? I didn’t want that for her.

Wondering why she didn’t tell me about the memorial, I cooked my favorite meal to feel close to her. She then texted me later that evening to put an end to a query I kept internally.

ANYA: “How was your day?”

ME: “It was a good day. I’m cooking the truffle rice right now since I can cook more now that I’m home in the evenings. Craving it!”

I only revealed this to her because she knew I cooked it to feel close to her, but her response wasn’t one I hoped for.

ANYA: “You’re gonna get sick of that rice! I’m sick of it and I haven’t had it in months! Went to my friend’s mom’s memorial. She had cancer for 17 years. She was an amazing lady.”

ME: “How sad. What type of cancer?”

ANYA: “Recurring cancer.”

I didn’t know what honestly made me sadder. A woman who passed away from a disease my mother currently fought against ever day or Anya being sick of a dish she knew I loved because of her. It seemed her idea to take things one day at a time was meant to describe how she planned to destroy any chance I had left.

Unable to ignore the over analysis going on in my mind, I sent her an instant message so I could tell what time she read it.

ME: “Every time you attend a memorial service, I want to ask you who it was but I just wanted you to know I don’t only out of respect for you. I just wanted you to know I care and I don’t ask out of respect. Have a goodnight.”

At eight minutes past five the next morning, I retrieved my phone to see if she read my message but she didn’t. After waking up over three hours later, I retrieved my phone again, noticing she responded at forty-five minutes past five. Her response though was surprisingly longer than most.

ANYA: “It’s ok. What a day for me yesterday. I went to go catch a movie last night with the girls. Was last minute planning. I thought I was going to take a break. We saw “500 Days of Summer”. The guy in the movie so reminded me of you. OMG I was blown away at how much he felt for her. Of course it’s not our story but it hit home. Just was interesting that’s all. Hope you are ok. I’m well. Going on a run for the 1st time since SF. Yikes!”

Although it hurt, she didn’t text me while she went out to the movies, it could’ve also been a good sign. She felt envious I got to see all these movies lately, and maybe she wanted to feel close to me? Pathetically sensitive about everything now after losing my job, thinking positive was a way to regain my sanity, even as simple as her going to the movies without letting me know. Now that the guy reminded her of me, it was a movie that piqued my curiosity. More than anything, it was nice for her to mention SF.

With a good start to my day, I told her I was doing well and told her to have a good run—then went straight back to bed. A little later that morning, I messaged Anya to see how her run went and what was on her agenda.

Stolen story; please report.

ANYA: “It was good! Needed to start back up again! Leaving soon to go pick up Katie from Malibu. I’m so excited to see her!”

ME: “I’m sure she feels the same way! Was “500 Days of Summer” any good? I’m surprised I didn’t hear of it.”

ANYA: “Yea the movie was interesting. Actually, I’d like for you to see it and tell me what you think!”

ME: “I’ll go see it tonight then.”

ANYA: “Well let me know! I have to hit the road. Ttyl!”

When Anya left our IMversation, I felt happy for her, and excited to have a new movie to look forward to later that evening. It sounded like a relationship story that brought out good feelings from within her about us. I couldn’t wait to watch it, hopefully alone in the theater, but in a way, with her there too. I needed a movie like “500 Days of Summer” more than ever to feel her love for me. After she started to get sick of truffle rice, something that made me feel closer to her, the timing of this movie was the Universe, or even God, working his magic without our knowledge.

Figuring she wanted to spend time catching up with Katie, I jumped back into my, so far, fruitless job search not expecting to hear from her for the rest of the day. I believed not having Katie around made her sad, so in that regard, I was happy she was back home from camp. As luck would have it, and with good feelings generated from seeing a movie that connected me to her, she texted me out of the blue.

ANYA: “How r u?”

ME: “I’m good! How are you? Is Katie girl home now?”

ANYA: “Good! Yes she is! Glad to have her home! We’re just catching up!”

ME: “I don’t want to take time away from you girls. Enjoy your time catching up with her!”

ANYA: “Thank u!”

Anya’s good vibes helped me to have my most productive day since losing my promotion to partner. After working out, cleaning my kitchen, laundry, firing off several resumes and checking in with my mom, I ventured out to the late show on a Sunday night. Figuring no one would be in the theater at ten on a Sunday night and things hit me hard these days, I left the Kleenex at home. Googling movie reviews was something I just never did and since she never made a bad recommendation, I trusted Anya’s request—likely made because she wanted us to feel close to each other.

At six minutes before midnight, as the movie scrolled its ending credits, I walked out with mixed emotions. It was by far the best movie I’ve seen on my unemployment tour, but hit me in an unexpected way. What I believed would be a “feel good” love story since the guy reminded her of me and how the movie hit home with her felt far from. Walking back to my car, all I kept asking myself was “how did this movie hit home with her?” There was no doubt the main male character resembled me—a guy who believed in love, falling deeply for a girl named Summer. There was also no doubt Summer liked him a lot, but clearly didn’t see forever with him. Sadly, and I hated to see things this way, but at times, the female character reminded me of Anya—how this guy loved her so much and would do anything for her, but she didn’t feel strongly enough to do the same for him. I believed Anya was not like this girl who, in my opinion, played with this man’s heart and emotions. But the fact she seemed a little like her, really shook me up. Summer also had no problem engaging in acts of love with him, acting like any girlfriend would, but only enjoyed his company and not wanting a serious commitment. Blinded by this great love in his heart for her, he failed to see how she really felt about him—even disrespecting her wishes because he believed she had to love him too. If Anya thought I reminded her of this guy because of the way he cared for her, and wanted me to see the movie for that reason, then it made me feel good to see it. I just couldn’t understand how this movie hit home for her. To see Summer shit all over this guy’s heart and his belief in love worried me—was I essentially in the same boat as him? Was that why it hit home to her? That she was in Summer’s shoes with me? There’s a scene near the end of the movie when she invited him to a party. Since the moment she invited him, he held major hope for getting back with her and made sure he looked his best for the party. What he didn’t know, but would learn, was that she invited him to her engagement party—she wanted him to meet the man she planned to marry. When the scene split the screens showing one side called “expectations” and the other side “reality”, it summed up my life with Anya over the last few months. It was hard to believe that just two hours earlier, I walked into a movie theater with nothing but love and hope in my heart. That I would see something beautiful and special, yet ended up walking out feeling more alone than I’ve ever felt in my life.

Maybe the day fatigued me and I wasn’t in the best state of mind to catch a late show—it was only a damn movie for crying out loud. I needed to get a good night’s rest and I’m sure this feeling would be too ridiculous to consider again. Then again, why couldn’t “500 Hundred Days of Summer” just remind her of me instead of “hitting home”? Why did she really want me to see this movie? To see a guy, who reminded her of me, get his heart ripped out? Or was it because at the end he met a new girl named “Autumn” and wanted me to see how easy it was for him to move on? I honestly loved the movie, there were a lot of great parts, but it just didn’t feel as good as it should have. When I got back home, knowing her phone was off, I messaged her.

ME: “I just got back from watching the movie. I really liked it. It was funny and sad. It was definitely the best movie I’ve seen on my movie tour. I liked how they split the screen with one side “expectation” and the other side “reality”. Very clever. Sad but true.”

ME: “I have to admit I agree with you. That guy was so me. It’s one thing to really love someone but when you really believe in love on top of that (destiny, fate, soulmate), it’s a very hard road back from heartache. I think that’s what makes it so difficult because you believe in love so much, and not just the love you have for that person.”

ME: “I laughed at some of the parts and I also noticed I was the only one laughing only because I knew how he was going to feel before I everyone else saw him feel it. Very interesting movie I must say. You said it hit home for you. Where did you feel it hit home? What did you think of it overall?”

A movie, of all things, I became sensitive to because of how someone I loved so much found it interesting. The only way this movie hit home for her, is if she played a game with my heart. There were times she couldn’t believe I was “for real”, but certainly by now she had to know I was. Her reaction to this movie filled my heart with fear and my head with madness. After reaching for two Vicodin pills and popping them in my mouth like pieces of See’s candy, I began to calm down enough to fall asleep. When the sun rose a few hours later, I grabbed my phone to see how she answered.

ANYA: “I’m glad you liked the movie. I thought it was well done too. It hit home in that other people do believe in the “love fate destiny” too. The writer had to have known the feeling of love to write that movie.”

Her response seemed to dodge my concerns. I knew the story wasn’t ours, and I believed Anya loved me, but just like Summer, I questioned why Anya would allow and encourage someone to feel so much for her without any plans to be with them? Summer at least gave the guy in the movie a heads up, but Anya did not—only telling me she was married and wanted to be with me, but was still with her husband because no one wanted to be with a woman who had baggage. Maybe Anya finally saw the wrong in doing that to me, and that’s why it hit home with her? I wouldn’t have given my heart so easily to a bad person. I didn’t want to prod her about how her response didn’t feel right to me—she’d probably think I was losing it. How many more times am I going to take things the wrong way before she never talks to me again? Sure, I reminded her of this guy, but he wasted no time finding love again—I’m not that kind of man. Summer never told the guy she was his soulmate like Anya told me. There was something much deeper between Anya and me than with Summer and this guy who remined Anya of me. After Summer, or Anya, there was no Autumn, no Spring or no Winter for me, nor even another Summer after Anya. After her weak response, I posed to her a more daunting question she couldn’t respond meekly to.

ME: “How r things at home with him? Is everything ok? Why so busy of late with work? Has he been purposely giving you more or is it because of the trip?”

ANYA: “I’m sorry but I don’t understand your question. “Busy of late w/work”?”

My negative emotions inspired my question to come out wrong. She apparently felt my question implied she was never busy up until now, but I didn’t mean for it to come off that way. I knew she was always busy and stressed—the last thing I wanted to do was take that lightly. I’ve known her for almost two years now though, and not once has she ever told me she felt like crying—or she was tired of the constant stress she felt until last week. It seemed since her husband invaded my privacy on Facebook that she suddenly had lots of work to do. It made sense to me that he would try to put more on her plate so she wouldn’t have time to see a man he knew was now more available to be seen than at any time before.

ME: “You said you’ve been busy. “Lots to do”. Playing “catch up” but never really ever catching up. So, I just thought maybe he was flooding you with extra work like he’s done in the past when he was “suspecting”.”

Anya has told me many times that she told me “everything” in the beginning of our relationship but decided after nearly two years of a serious relationship, it was time to tell me more on top of everything.

ANYA: “Hun I have sooo much responsibilities. I manage the household, Sukie and all her checkups and grooming and dental, etc., the kids and their activities, Katie’s high school info and coordinating her school dance that starts today, returning emails, not for work, but friends, fam. Doctor’s, secretary from Katie’s high school, dance studio, camps, tutors, temple, volunteer organizations I’m involved with etc. I’ve been busy coordinating Boston stuff (not easy to do), summer Dr’s appts for the kids and me. Dental, braces, kids’ haircuts, eye exams, back to school items etc. Been shopping for two weddings, Kids’ birthday parties etc. meanwhile trying to coordinate work meetings, working on marketing to drum up more work (slow), working on various work projects for upcoming meetings (nothing new). I handle all the bills and office stuff at home too. I manage properties here and many other states. Just going through an eviction of a tenant in AZ and lawyers are involved and getting ugly. Huge complications. I just had one of my tenants die in one of my units and is under investigation by the court. We can’t find next of kin so it’s delaying the process. Meanwhile I’m losing money from both places waiting to clear them out so I can rent them out which will take a minimum of 2-3 months. Although Katie was gone it doesn’t mean I had more time. I’m always “behind” on something. I do all the grocery shopping and cooking and some cleaning. I try to workout so that I can stay in decent shape. My list can go on and on and on. It’s a big headache. I’m always running and stressed but just try not to show it. I hope you understand.”

After reading the longest message she ever sent me, a laundry list that should’ve been communicated to me on the night we talked about giving it a chance, she revealed more reasons why she was in too deep to ever change things. I was too in love to not understand all she did, but how could she encourage and allow me to love her so deeply when she had too many people dependent on her to ever be with me? Upon learning this about her life, how could she ever have claimed this relationship was about me? Either I fall in line with her life or get out of it. With all of these things on her plate, that were always on her plate, how could she get upset at me when I questioned her true intentions to ever leave? How could she allow me to feel so much for her knowing her day to day responsibilities would cause me pain? How could she allow me to fall so hard and hit me with something she should have told me in the beginning? That my life would have to revolve around her schedule and she would only fit me in when she had the time to do so? When I didn’t respond because she knew I read it, she sent me another text.

ANYA: “I get so overwhelmed I just want to cry.”

There was one certain thing about Anya. What every guy learned about her before I did. She was a heartbreaker. She would only break your heart, in ways no human being, man or woman, could ever imagine. On the other hand, this was confirmation that she hated her life because of these responsibilities, and not because of me. That it was this constant running around that caused her to be constantly stressed and not my relationship with her. If anything, it likely confirmed my worst nightmare—she would’ve fallen in love with anyone who had given her a vacation from this chaos. She equated stress relief to a soulmate, and I suddenly didn’t feel very special anymore. I was the last of her priorities and only worthy of her love when she finds the time for it—even behind her dog.

ME: “Sorry to keep you. I’m here if you need a breather.”

ANYA: “Thanks, I’m just leaving to take Andrew to crew. Starts at 8. Have a carpool today so I’m responsible for two others then have to take Katie to poly for dance then Suki’s appt. When the kids get back this afternoon I have to take them to football and studio dance and tutoring so won’t have time for a breather today! Have to get some work done in between. I’m ok. Thx for caring and being there for me! I love u!”

I wanted to be there for her; I loved her and there was no changing that. It broke my heart to see her struggle like that and to be under that much stress. Of course, she had feelings for me and feared losing me if she made this information known, and it’s nice to know she felt that strongly about me—enough to lie about her life so we could give it a try. To do that though, she had to do, not just try—the situation was too perilous to leave a loved one hanging in. She called her marriage a “situation” when the situation was actually a dangerous predicament for anyone who dared to fall in love with her. She never told me that her husband was Jackson Caiaphas. Then she revealed all of her duties around the house. Would she have done this for a man she wasn’t in love with? Is this why she wondered if she could have two soulmates? As much as I hated to know the details of her stressful life, and I know she told me hoping for understanding—it made me question if she truly loved me or if she just truly loved herself. As my negative emotions threatened to breach the surface, I didn’t want to cause her any more stress than she already have.

ME: “You know how much I care about you! I’m always here for you when you need me. Remember that! I love you too, babe! Take it easy over there.”

When I didn’t hear back from her for the rest of the day, I took two Vicodin to cope with the silence. Breaking down, I sent her a text to let her know I was thinking of her.

ME: “I hope you’re doing ok. I don’t know if you remember this but one day I had a tough day at work and you told me you would massage my shoulders and give me a beer. After hearing all you’re doing this morning I think you’re the one deserving of a massage and that beer.”

I thought and hoped I’d hear back from her. Feeling disheartened when I didn’t, I sent her one last text.

ME: “I’m sure you’re wiped out. Wish I could help. Sleep well.”

Even though I sent these instant messages several hours earlier than I normally did, they remained unread even though her phone was likely on. After all she shared today, her phaseout plan seemed to be in full effect. It was easy to reflect upon my past failures with women to prepare myself for what was to become. I didn’t feel the love from her at all anymore—her true intentions coming into question more than ever before. How could she believe someone would want to fall so deeply in love with her if they rarely got to ever see her? That they only got to see the one they loved when she permitted them? She had to know what she was going to do to me. She just had to. She claimed one time she felt like I punished her for loving me—that she had to “pay the price” each time after making time to see me but who truly paid the price? She’d rather be with me than running her dog to the vet or getting a finger put up her ass? Wouldn’t she substitute just about anything else for those things? She’d miss sitting on lounge chair in her yard watching a squirrel race up a tree just as much as she missed me, living the life she did. I wanted to understand because she hoped I would, but her silence on this night only made me feel like she used me for stress relief from those things. Her life was so busy she had no time to miss me.

After “500 Days of Summer”, her list of responsibilities, a lost career job in the middle of the worst recession in United States history, Zoloft and psychiatry appointments, it was time to find out where I really stood in her life. Why did she make me feel so special just to be put behind vet appointments and kickboxing classes? I didn’t want to argue with her, but if she wouldn’t allow me to fight for her, then I had to start fighting for my survival. If her plan was to submerse herself in responsibilities, that she knew all about before we met, then go to bed at night still claiming she loved me, then I had something to say about it—I didn’t agree to be in her life just for emotional support—she had a Suki for that.

She told me one time this fifteen-year-old kid from the neighborhood told her that he wanted to marry her. She didn’t tell him she was married or found anything inappropriate in what he said to her. Why would she tell me that? Are those the kinds of kids being raised in her neighborhood? She was okay with a fifteen-year-old telling a married woman he wanted to marry her but I couldn’t fight for the woman I loved? What the fuck was going on in her world? How could she do this to me? Why was she punishing me and not the man who cheated on her several times? She handled me the same way she handled the fifteen-year-old future philanderer. Why did I remind her of some guy in a movie who had a woman completely mind fuck him and break his heart into pieces? Is that where we are now?

When I woke up the next morning, I hoped to feel differently than the night before when she responded to my texts.

ANYA: “Good morning! Yes, I remember! Thank you that was very sweet. Hun, don’t worry about me. It’s what I do every day and that’s the way it is. I do have to tell you that I woke up with a cold sore yesterday morning. I guess I’m a little run down and I need to take care of myself. I’m ok so please don’t worry. How r u?”

Her text overall was positive but when I read “that’s the way it is”, it hit me the wrong way. Could she possibly comprehend how “just the way it is” has affected my life? How she knew all along “just the way it is” would never be changed no matter all she asked of me to do to change it? If I were to die tomorrow, would she continue to deny I ever existed to those around her? My destiny was to be the worst secret in her life? Her text provided even more evidence against her staying there for the sake of the kids—she had another cold sore caused by stress unrelated to me but solely related to the narcissist she married. I refused to go down the same roads Lance, her “stalker” and the man she broke her engagement did. If I couldn’t fight for her with all the reasons I knew, who ever could? After allowing me to feel so much for her after I walked away at one time, it was disrespectful to tell me “It’s just the way it is”. I’ve given up everything to be with her and it needed to change. The time had come for me to test her love for me. I needed to know why she brought me here.

ME: “Yes you do. You need to take care of yourself babe. I am in love with you so much. I can’t stop caring about you. I just don’t like to see you stressed. I think it takes years off your life and I want you to be around. Your reward for all your hard work as a great mother and keeping everything in order is being cheated on and not being trusted. Just not fair or right. Sorry about your cold sore, Babe. I’m ok. Just missing you.”

After I instant messaged her these words, I didn’t hear back from her for over an hour later as an emotional onslaught built inside me.

ANYA: “Sorry been driving kids around. I’m ok, like I said nothing more than usual. I miss you too. What’s on your agenda?”

ME: “Just scheduling interviews. It seems more than usual to me though. If it’s not more than usual then I feel ever since FB, I’ve noticed a change in you. Can you please tell me what’s going on with him and how you’re feeling? Thank you.”

ANYA: “Yes of course a bit more b/c of summer! Having to work more – bad economy. Idk what you want me to tell you. You want me to tell you how hard it is to live like this after FB? Yes, it’s hard! Not talking much. Just trying to get thru everyday.”

I then sent her three texts to help her better understand what I wanted her to tell me.

ME: “Ok. I’m not trying to pressure you. Not trying to argue with you but I love you. It’s hard to just stand over here and watch it especially when you know the one you love, loves me too.”

ME: “I’ve shared so much with you. I feel I know your kids. No one knows me better externally and internally than you other than myself. There’s this huge bond between us that will always be there because of how much we know and have shared with eachother.”

ME: “I fight every day to show you how much I love you and you fight every day to stay right where you’re at. You can’t ever say I’ve broken your heart.”

Once I went there, I hated myself for it, but when I did, I knew there would be no turning back this time as I felt left in the dark and cold about where I truly stood in her life.

ANYA: “I know. I think I want to take a break. I need to work on myself right now. Oh, and yes you have broken my heart and trust when you threatened me.”

In Anya’s mind, she wanted to make a clean break if she divorced Jackson. That it wasn’t because she fell in love with another man, but because things weren’t working out at home. Then she hit me with a shot I never saw coming when she visited me a couple of months ago—telling me that she wouldn’t date me if she left because she wanted to see if this was what she wanted. She always wanted me to understand her situation, and for the most part I did. But when she hit me with things like that, it made me question her true intentions. Wouldn’t a promise to be with me one day have come already if she truly loved me? After she told me all about Jackson’s infidelities and knowing that was the reason I chose to be in her life, why not leave him because of the truth? If the goal if she were to leave him was to give people the impression that he was this great man then why tell me about his infidelities at all? Anya found true love in me—why not tell the world about me instead of protecting him? He will always be Katies and Andrew’s father—the truth never changes that but to want to make a clean break and not want to be with me right way after all we’ve shared was the most selfish act I’ve ever been made aware of it. Especially after losing my job because of all I sacrificed for her happiness.

In Anya’s eyes, I did break her heart and I could see that from her perspective. She felt if Jackson knew about us, it would end us. To tell me horrible things about the man then disabling me from taking her away from him was horrible. Look, if a clean break was possible, then let’s do it but it felt like she never had any intentions to leave him and that she used me for stress relief. Could she really have sex with him if the kids were always around or she was too tired or busy to? Her current marriage was too hectic for her to have alone time with Jackson but with me, twenty minutes of stress relief was better than nothing. Now, she can go home and be a pleasant person to be around. I wanted that for her, but she needed to be with me otherwise she used me and after losing my job—this secret she held faced a real threat.

If I felt truly loved, why would the thought of talking with Jackson ever cross my mind? Could she try to understand why the threat happened before crucifying me for it? Just tell me you used me for stress relief and confused it for love if you want me to understand. Did she ever consider that it broke my heart when she wasn’t able to tell her abusive husband that I want to be with a man who truly loves me? That I’m leaving you for him because you were unfaithful and abusive? Why protect him after you bringing me into your life? Didn’t you make the decision to freely love me the day you did that? If I did confront Jackson, it would be to defend the woman I loved who died more and more each day doing the things he should be helping out on. Maybe she viewed Jackson getting into my Facebook account as an act of love instead of destroying the only happiness she had in life?

For her to claim that I broke her heart after she fought every single day to stay in her marriage surpassed any of my contradictions. How could she not love me? A man who gave a hundred percent of himself to her for only a sliver of her allotted time? If she truly missed me and if she truly had any real intentions to be with me, she would’ve left fifty percent of those responsibilities behind without having time to blink. The only special thing about me, was that I was a foolish enough to give her every reason she needed to leave him.

ME: “How could you say I’ve broken your heart? You fight everyday to stay, and not be with me. I’ve been guilty of hurting you, but it’s only because I want to be with you, and not because I don’t think you’re the greatest thing in the world.”

ME: “So let me get this straight. He gets in my Facebook and I pay the price for that? Isn’t it time to defend me?”

ME: “My heart is not for your intrigue, or anyone else’s, and it’s not for fun and games and then when reality sets in you threaten to run away from me. How is that breaking your heart?”

ME: “Katie and Andrew can both make it to Harvard one day whether you are with him or with me.”

ANYA: “Ok don’t, it has nothing to do with FB. We were not together for a long time and you told me you wouldn’t give me pressure. If you start to get mad again I’m going to escalate. You have broken my heart in that you broke your promise to me over and over and when you threatened me over and over telling me you won’t do it again. Stop throwing jabs at me, I’m not out to get you! I’m not playing with your heart like a game and I could say the same to you!”

ME: “Do you remember the things you have said to me after SF? I love you more than ever? Then he gets on my FB and suddenly you don’t tell me anything like that anymore! Stop making me feel bad for having feelings and emotions. I’m not buying that anymore. I’m entitled to an emotional response when I’m affected by something. Please recognize this isn’t an ordinary situation.”

ME: “I’m playing games with you? I’m consistent with my feelings no matter what. I love you and always there for you.”

ANYA: “You don’t buy that anymore? R u kidding me? You’re going to spin it on your head again? Don’t message me. I need a break.”

ME: “That’s your thing. Making me feel bad for things you’re doing to me. I ripped your heart in a million pieces. I’ve ruined your life. I’ve had to face obstacles. Now your husband knows who I am. Do I have to start defending myself since you’re not doing it for me? Is this how you love someone? Do you want me to message some of the things you’ve told me over the last twenty-one months? You think I’m on Zoloft because of me? I’m on it because of your marriage.”

ANYA: “Uh getting mad then upsetting me then promising me you won’t get mad for telling you things then threatening me then promising you won’t do it again then getting mad, then upsetting me then promising me you won’t do it again for being honest then threatening me then promising me you won’t do it again and so on and so on. I can’t take the pressure!”

After reading this text, as upset as I was with her, she had a point. From her vantage point, it did feel like I played with her heart when I broke down like this. She was right—time and time again I promised not to and then I do. I had no control of these emotions anymore. I tuck them away afraid to pressure her and then they overwhelm me—they were never intentional but they were blasts and jabs to her. She made me feel no better than that fifteen-year-old kid who wanted to marry her and that angered me. It angered me to call me her hero but wouldn’t allow me to confront Jackson to fight for her—that she viewed that as breaking her heart and ending the relationship. There could be no other end to this story after Jackson invaded my privacy—he was the dragon who needed to be confronted. If I lost Anya over doing what any man would do for the woman he loved as dearly as I loved her—then there was nothing to lose. The thought that she would not let me love her the same way she loved me left me overwhelmed with emotions. Anya needed to understand that not allowing me to share how I felt was like asking someone who was shot not to say “ouch”.

ME: “Not going to argue with you because then I’m accused of throwing it back. So much for that.”

ANYA: “You know what let’s just stop talking. Yea, just blame the whole thing on me. It’s my fault. Just please don’t message me. I HATE arguing! I don’t do that!”

ME: “I don’t like to argue either. This is not a normal situation though. Not fair to judge someone who gets upset because you’ve tied hands around their back.”

ANYA: “You’re not listening. I don’t want to talk.”

Her total disregard to how my life was affected by her loving me didn’t set well with me. If she didn’t want to talk then I planned to stop listening. She needed to learn relationships were not on the terms of one person, but had to be on the terms of two. As much as I wanted to honor her, she had greatly disrespected me by allowing me to fall so deeply in love without any plans to even promise to leave—like she promised to. It was funny how I was held to the promises I made to her, but she forgot all about the promise to be with me if she fell in love with me. At this moment, the suffering I experienced was because she always believed her life was “it is what it is”. I felt like she had sentenced me to prison for ten years for a crime I didn’t commit—it would take me at least a decade to get over her if I lasted that long. She tied the hands of the man who loved her behind his back after her husband stalked him from the shadows. She had no right telling me I love you but not defending me but instead wanting a break from me. Knowing she had all those responsibilities, she brought me into her life as if she had none, taking advantage of my “innocence” about her life. Lance surely knew and that’s why he left—he got out before it was too late. No matter what she did or said, I truly loved and cared for her, but the time had come to make a stand—I couldn’t allow her husband to stalk and harass me on Facebook or anywhere. She would have to leave him because of his failure to remain faithful or not at all—he was the bad guy, not me. After all I gave, shared and lost for her, I resented the fact she was still married to this supreme narcissist—it was me and the kids, not me versus them.

ME: “Please communicate to the goose who laid the golden egg, Daddy Warbucks, or whatever he really represents to you to stay off of my FB account and that’s coming from me. I’m going to test him too. He can go ruin someone else’s life like he’s done in the past but he won’t ruin mine. I’m sick of paying for his mistakes.”

ANYA: “What?”

ME: “Tell him I told him to stay off my Facebook. Tired of this shit. Divorce your wife if you don’t trust her.”

More than anything, I wanted to test her loyalty to me. If she defended him in anyway, I planned to tell him these things myself. She threatened that he would “come after me”, but not if I come after him first. If she would never be with me after that—then she never had any plans to be with me anyway.

ANYA: “I just told you it has nothing to do with FB! Stop discounting what I tell you!”

ME: “Make sure he knows. I have to hurt because of him. We’ll see if he listens.”

ANYA: “Ok don’t believe me. Don’t message me. I can’t talk to you because you make up your own stories!”

ME: “Make up my own stories? What? How so? Do you want the proof?”

ANYA: “Proof?”

I then consulted with my daily journal, sending her a few of her own words before Jackson stalked, harassed then invaded my privacy—a right of his according to Anya.

ME: “” I miss you more than ever”, “Haven’t stopped thinking about our wknd especially dinner, “This is a very hard time for me”, “I struggle because we’re not together and I miss u so much”, “I love it when you gently force open my legs and keep them open w/your arm”. All these texts were ones you sent me before FB. After FB, I can’t even get a goodnight out of you when I text you goodnight. I get a “hope u had a goodnight”! and now “I need to work on me”. I know you too well, Anya. Please tell him I told him to stay off my FB. That it’s coming from me.”

I believed she did tell Jackson to “stay out of his Facebook”. There was no reason not to believe she did that but I’d bet my last dollar she didn’t tell him that I knew about it. How could she say I broke her heart if she couldn’t defend or even vouch for me? Why couldn’t she tell him I’m with him because he’s a great man? Would he run to the kids and cry “Mommy doesn’t love Daddy!”? Even if her reasons were more than proper? Jackson may feel entitled to the lives of others, but had no right to be in my Facebook account. His marriage had trust issues even before they made vows to each other and they both needed to face that because it affected many lives outside of their marriage. The others ran away but I had no plans to—I loved her. Anya knew from day one I didn’t choose to be in her life for marriage support or to be her emotional friend.

ANYA: “Listen ok? I don’t want to talk to you or argue with you until you calm down and talk to me nicely. If that is not possible we can’t ever talk. I’m tired of your 20 questions, I’m tired of your accusations, I’m tired of you making scenarios in your head that are totally untrue. I’m tired of you getting mad at me. I’m tired of the pressure! You’re blowing it again big time! Stop making up things in your head! I told you I was busy! Why do you have to question every little thing? I told you one day at a time and that wasn’t that long ago and now look you’re already starting shit with me! Why can’t you just leave it alone and let things pass? Do not message me!”

ME: “Ok. That was a good message. It’s the way you treat me though. You being busy like usual didn’t matter before FB—you’d make time for us regardless but you’re not doing that at all anymore. What scenario have I made up in my head lately that is untrue? I believe everything you tell me. I’m listening.”

If I thought for a second, she would ever cower in fear from him, knowing all the times he cheated on her and all the inequities in the marriage, I would’ve never allowed myself to fall in love with her. If she considered me a Beta and him the Alpha, after allowing me to believe I was the Alpha, this would not end well. I trusted her to take it to him when the time came, and it clearly arrived. I needed her to prove the “more than ever” love she claimed to have for me, otherwise they were just empty, possibly drunken words. If she missed me “more than ever” then how come I didn’t feel it? You mean to tell me Jackson finding out about us would destroy any chance of us being together? To arm me with the weapon to take the money shot and not allow me to take it is what raised trust issues and why it seemed like I made up things in my head. It was her job to prove me wrong about them—I didn’t want them to be set in stone. Nothing made sense but once again, I tried to look inside of myself while she continued to look outside of herself.

ME: “I know he wants to catch you in the act so it evens the score. I didn’t realize a lot before the “threats”. You communicated that to me so I get it now. You know I don’t want that to happen. I wasn’t secure back then like I am now because we’ve discussed it. I listened. I know the threats were stupid to make and I’m not doing that here. I’m trying to protect my name and us—he knows the truth. I should be allowed to defend myself if no one is going to. I’ve gone to bat for you and I want you to do that for me. not run from me. I got nothing more to say.”

For once, I wanted her to take responsibility for our situation and how it affected my life, not just hers. I didn’t approach her at Sonoma’s; she approached me—even making a date to tell me all about Jackson. For nearly the last two years, every single day I went into a dark trench to fight for her happiness, the least she could do was go to bat for mine. I was tired of hearing things from her that Jackson should be hearing like “You broke my heart”. What vows did I make in front of God, family and friends then break? I was in her life because of his unfaithfulness so why not hold him accountable for it? I was beginning to learn a painful truth, one I didn’t initially set out to seek, that her love only existed for me as long as it could be a secret forever.

ANYA: “I told you earlier that I want to take a break. That is what I want. If you want me to be happy and you say that you do, then please don’t message me. I need some time to gather my thoughts. At this point after all the grief you just put me through today it just confirmed even more than ever that I don’t want this. Please respect my wishes and please don’t come back with what about me and that you’re the victim and that I did this to you and that I’m etc. I’m not exactly having a picnic over here which you forget every time you get mad. We are adults. I NEED a BREAK. If you continue to message then have a good life. I wish you well. I also want to tell you only one time I’m not going to answer your messages until I’m ready to talk to you.”

I had to laugh at her last few sentences—"If you continue to message then have a good life.” followed by “I’m not going to answer your messages until I’m ready to talk to you.” After that brought out a chuckle, out of respect for her wishes since I never respect them according to her, there was no reason to respond. After reading what should’ve been reserved for Jackson, like the day she agreed to marry him, her love only existed for me out of convenience. The only thing that made me special, and I’m certain laughable to her friends, was the fact I was still stupid enough to believe in love. Without ever being married, she felt she knew more about love than I ever possibly could. Try marrying the right person first, then come back to me because I’ve seen a lot of marriages work when love is based for the right reasons. I thought Anya had loved me for all the right reasons, but her latest response to my concerns only proved that love inconvenienced her. Without a promise nor even a plan to leave, it wasn’t fair to say I broke her heart. She could accuse me of upsetting her but she had no right to accuse me of breaking her heart if she couldn’t vouch or go to bat for me. The things she told me should’ve been reserved for the man who truly broke her heart when he stalked and harassed me by invading my privacy on Facebook. If she couldn’t leave him because she loved a man who truly honored her, then she could never leave him for anything else.

Anya’s “picnic” at home—that issue that Jackson caused by stalking me on Facebook, she held me accountable for. She had no clue all I lost because of our love—all the things she hid from me so I’d give her a chance. She asked me to fight for her and I did every single minute of the day and my reward was “I NEED a BREAK”! In her defense, she was very busy and I didn’t want to take her away from her daily usual life—but she knew since Jackson got into my Facebook account that she was suddenly too busy for me.

I basically lost a career job, a half a million dollar a year position, because I trusted in her love for me. What did she lose? The respect from her husband she never truly had? The trust in her marriage that didn’t exist? The ability to con some other man into loving her deeply then pulling the ground out from under him? I understood she was stressed out and maybe it was unfair to bring up how I felt at this time to her. The summer was always a busy time for her—especially this year because of Katie’s graduation. And just before a family trip with her husband watching her every move, but it seemed all the things I did for her was not being recognized. That the only remedy was for me to leave with nothing left to give anyone else. Now, her happiness was predicated on me leaving her alone? She blamed the turmoil in her life on me and not the man whose multiple infidelities led her to me? When was she going to stop punishing the wrong guy? She needed time to think? At this point I deserved nothing short of a huge apology for misrepresenting any aspect of her life to me. She never gave me the chance to make the best decision for me because she hid her life from me. My life mattered too. Here I was--left with nothing; unable to find work and too fucked up in the heart and head to. And she needed a break? She was the one who felt pressured? God—I just loved the woman to death yet I had so many negative feelings towards her. How was it possible to still be in love with her? Yet, I was. I couldn’t imagine life without her. I was just so angry with her for allowing me to love her so damn much then making me the villain when I expressed myself. I should be able to confront her shitty abusive husband and fight for her. She didn’t want her kids to know she married a creep who ruins the marriages of others yet thinks his is sacred?

If I couldn’t fight for Anya after she knew the sole reason, I was in her life was because he was a cheat then I had nothing anyway. Cheating on someone meant the affair was a loveless one—that’s what her husband did. Anya called me her soulmate and less than two weeks ago told me she loved me more than ever. How come I couldn’t bring the fight to Jackson for love? If Jackson knowing she loved me would end us then she didn’t love me. She had to love me enough to tell her children the truth about their father after he stalked me on Facebook. If she couldn’t do that then she never loved me. If she believed the truth would hurt the kids—then she didn’t love me. If she thought she betrayed her kids in any way by loving a man who respected and honored her—then she didn’t love me. If I had known she sold her soul before we met, why would I have chosen to be here? As I stewed over her irresponsible heart, she sent me another text for good measure.

ANYA: “BTW I hope you respect my last message and it could be days or weeks before I talk to you. I wish you luck with your search. I will continue to pray for your mom. I hope she is well and please take care.”

An article I recalled reading over a year ago claimed that an extramarital relationship always ended up with the married person blaming their partner for the turmoil in their life. At the time, I believed her love for me was too strong for that to ever happen. I’ve come to realize now, the article represented a warning more than a story. Now the turmoil in her marriage, that usually infected others, had now infected me. There was no doubt the end of everything was nearing.