Betrayal...is more than a four-letter word

I don't know how it happened. Or when it happened. The exact moment when my life spiraled so swiftly and deviously out of control, how what started as an innocent silly text conversation over the internet became larger and sharper and cut in two something I thought was solid, but was nothing but a transparent illusion of depth and substance, a hologram of a relationship. Suddenly I am going from flirtation to break-up, from innuendo to I fucking never want to speak to you again, to how could you treat me this way?
Then it got worse.
I made the grave error of involving a third party, a mutual friend, or aquaintance of mine, really. She had introduced us, ironically, by speaking about the boy she was supposedly dating, the one who broke her heart, Bad Stephen, she called him (yes, his real name). Two days later I was unwittingly to meet him on the internet, he was to woo me, win me over, only to discover that he was in fact Bad Stephen, in the flesh. By then it was too late, I was hooked, we were dating, or so I thought, and he would surely tell her any minute now. He didn't. He chose to prolong the agony for two whole months, continuing to see her at dinner parties and the like, to revel in her adoration, and not tell her about me until the night we broke up. Why, I have no sweet clue. He claims it was the first time he realized I was upset he hadn't told her (you have to be an emotional cretin not to figure out that it would upset the woman you are dating to continue to hang out with the woman who is obsessed with you, who knows the woman you are dating, and to not TELL said woman. I guess he is either fucking retarded or the meanest person ever).
So, in my wrath and upset, I email her. I apologize for not having contacted her sooner, for not having told her myself. I ask if we can put this behind us and be friends.
She all too eagerly replies "Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuure..." the sugary words still cooing in my ear as she proceeds to regale me with semi-truthful statements like "Oh, honey, I hope you didn't sleep with him...you know he sleeps with girls on MySpace and goes out on about 5 internet dates per week..." just to cite a few...

I vomit. Or I want to vomit. I feel the primal heat of fight or flight coarse through my veins and flush my cheeks. My heart thuds, leaping out of my chest, I speak but I don't hear the words as they come out of my mouth. We have girl talk for two hours. Two excrutiating hours of self-discovery. I'm doing this for your own good, she says, You didn't actually think he was dating you, she says, He's emotionally empty, a bottomless pit who will suck you dry and give you nothing back, she says...yet she is still addicted to him.

I text him. He texts me back "OH jesus...well, fuck you very much..."
I guess he didn't like the fact that we had spoken. I had no idea of the nuclear pandora's box holocaust I had opened, but let's just say the last 24 hours have been pretty special. We've exchanged countless emails, seeping with emotion and apology and some semblance of clarity. We actually spoke on the phone for an hour for the first time since our initial courtship, after we learned that she had sent me hate mail, accusing me of "ruining" their relationship...
Jesus fucking christ. How did I get here? Trapped in some telenovela? Exiled to highschool confidential hell on earth? All I know is that I never, ever, ever want to feel this way again. Ever. There were SO many countless things I did wrong, so many TSN turning points where I zigged when I so fucking should have zagged...I just can't. Ever. Trust. Anyone. Ever.  I've written pages and pages of emails over the last few days, so I'll share some of the high (low) lights:

I'm not mad at you per se, just overwhelmed a bit by the emotional roller coaster I've been on these last two months, partly of my own choosing; my ENFP ways do not allow me to abandon a lost cause, but rather to struggle valiantly, never admitting that something is not possible, because, heck, I can bring out the best in anyone or any situation with my sheer will and optimism. And things started off so well and  I do think we are very compatible in a lot of ways, which is so hard to find in this city, or really anywhere, so I kept working at it

I guess part of my problem is also my massive ego...I absolutely could not fathom how someone would not want to be with me, rather than examining the reasons behind their inability to be with me, which is something else entirely...                   this dichotomy gets me in deep shit on a regular basis

Funny, the title of my next post will be Betrayal - you, M, myself most of all, which is the irony...we see what we want to see, believe what we want to believe, and that is what results in the biggest betrayal and damage. Only if there weren't men like you out there this would not be an issue.
Just think more about what you do, how your actions affect other people, what sort of imprint you want to leave on those around you and hopefully you can begin to change, or value yourself enough to believe you can change and be worthy of more if you become more of that person.

I won't argue against IM-ing, because frankly I just don't have the energy, but here goes...I IM my sister all the time. Well, not all the time, but a lot. And we love it. It's funny, light, she's hysterical because she doesn't know any of the lingo or abbreviations and the whole thing is wonderful. I've also known my sister for 32 years and we have a pretty solid, great, established relationship. We never misinterpret anything or misunderstand tone or get insulted by some remark that was made in error. We also talk on the phone whenever we can and see eachother as often as possible: she also lives in another country and is broke.
Those are really the only times I see IM as being fun and/or useful. OR, if you are legitimately dating someone and it is a quick, witty flirtation, idle sexy banter, or whatever. But with us it not only became the primary and solitary mode of communication, it took on a sarcastic, quick tone that allowed us to say all sorts of hurtful things without a second thought. It was just sort of addictive in a really bad way, like any drug, a tiny high and a very big low. I kept engaging, hoping you might actually apologize or say something truly sweet or complimentary or remorseful; that never happened, or if it would for a moment it would be followed by a truly shitty comment, or something so gauche or hurtful I had to wonder if you had any emotional intelligence at all, or if you just deliberately were trying to exercise meanness.
I think it enabled you to keep me on the hook, so to speak, with really, really minimal investment or effort on your part. And that's my fault for allowing it to substitute for real, meaningful contact.
I'm not saying you didn't reveal a lot of very intimate things, you did. And so did I. And we probably shouldn't have - it was the medium seducing us into disclosure of fabricated raw pseudo-honesty. I mean, I was always honest, but I used it to establish what I thought was closeness or intimacy with you, which is ridiculous - I was baring my soul to a fucking computer screen.

As for your therapist and his theories of polygamy, I don't know what to say, except that I've been told the same thing repeatedly: "Girl, you HAVE to date multiple guys at once!!!!!" and I try, really I do, but it just doesn't work for me. I have enough else on my plate that I could date a lot of men badly, or one really well, and I choose to do the latter. Or attempt to do the latter, because it seems they all do the former which results in a total fuckshow of a situation. You should have heard me ranting fervently about the post-sexual revolution fallout and how men have devolved to such a point that I barely want anything to do with them anymore, especially given their current levels of selfishness here in New York, the likes of which I have never seen before.

Thank you for the final semi-backhanded compliments; yes, I know. I cannot count the number of times I have been told I am the most amazing woman (insert name of boy X)  has ever or will ever meet, that I have changed boy X's wasted life by my mere existence, that I am "too good" for boy X and will likely soon find someone worthy of my luminosity.
Still waiting for someone who fits that description.


And that, my friends, is what I call drama. And I am so done with it. It is exhausting. I feel like I've run the New York marathon (and I probably have in terms of emotional energy expenditure), and all of this angst really does take its toll. The one bit of good news is that I have not shed a single tear over this one. Nada. I'm dry.

Comments

[brownamazon]

Oh, sweetie! How does a nice girl like you even *get* into these situations? I think cyber-relationships have become the last refuge of the emotionally incompetent, lulling people who take everything at face value into a false sense of well-being: "ooh, he just texted me,'how's the most beautiful woman in New York?', how sweet, he must really be falling for me." Maybe you need to quit the IM/texting thing cold turkey. If people are too lazy to pick up the damn phone, maybe they shouldn't be worth your time.

[brainygirl]

I KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It's done. Over. I quit. NO MORE internet anything. If I ever do meet someone on-line, it has to go from virtual to real in 60 seconds.
Finito la comedia.

[benjira_kaiju]

Oh. You're an ENFP? Interesting. I'm an INTJ (and nearly broke the scale on 'T' - before I figured out how which answers, and combinations thereof, can modify those results). However, even INTJs cannot abandon a losing situation.

[ethan]

Hey, what happened to #7 on your list in your prior post. I thought you were supposed to have more sex and *not get crazy* about it. Can you take your own advice? Maybe this guy was good for one thing...

[brainygirl]

:)

We didn't have sex. 'Cause I actually thought I liked him and it could "work out"...
:S
I was saving #7 for people with whom I thought had no potential but were, well...hot. Don't think #7 is gonna work for me...
;)