“Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead.”
Adele. “Someone Like You”.
Hey Adele, I’m glad that you’ve heard that he’s settled down, and he’s found a girl and he’s married now and that she gives him things that you didn’t.
I’m glad you wish nothing but the best for him. BUT I DON’T.
I want him attacked by a swarm of bees.
I want him to trip over his ever-increasing pile of cigarette butts and wine casks that I paid for and fall off the balcony, leaving behind in a neat pile the clothing, rent and holidays that I provided for four years.
Why is betrayal so much more wounding than the end of a relationship? Why does it take three times as long to get over?
As love faded and the Cold War descended on my stagnant de-facto relationship, I knew I had to make a decision that was going to hurt me, badly.
Looking back now, I realise he had steered me towards the trick.
You know the trick guys play when they are too gutless to pull the plug themselves? They start chipping away at your self-esteem, pressing all your buttons and doing the things you hate, so that you will do the dirty work and they can slip out quietly smelling like roses?
I know quite a famous man about town, a TV celebrity who always had a revolving door of girlfriends, and I asked him: “How do you get out of the situation when you’ve had enough?”
He said he just picks his nose in front of them. Yes, that would work.
I wish mine had done that, but he’d done so many other things by then I probably wouldn’t have noticed.
The split was quite amicable and we were in contact, edging towards seeing each other again, then a friend of mine of 30 years informed me that she was really sorry for the call and it was really hard for her but… they were together.
I can’t explain the depth of the devastation and betrayal I felt, and it may not make sense, but the earth shifted.
A lot of my great friends knew about it, and were socialising with the euphoric new lovers.
Me? Well, I lost my sense of safety and trust.
This girl had stayed at our house, I’d shouted her many times, arranged for him to drive her places. How long had this been going on? When did I stop noticing what he did? Did I abandon him? Why did he stay so long? Was it for the free rent, food and grog? Am I a terrible person?
Am I unloveable… and on, and on, and on for so many sleepless nights.
How unfair was it that I supported him and tried to help him and looked after him and gave him all my friends, and he settled down, found the girl and is married now, (thanks Adele) and I was in a crumpled heap unable to move forward, trust or function. (Why don’t you write a song about that, please. My neighbours will love it.)
My wonderful friends tried so many things to bring me back: love, kindness, abuse… and, oh yeah, and lots of wine.
But it took me, choosing to live that pulled me out.
I started going to the gym, eating well, looking inwards – all the things I’d wanted us to do together.
It wasn’t easy, and two years later I’m still confused. I am terrified of trying again. Terrified of ever feeling like that again, cause it nearly killed me.
I still don’t know if it was him or me, but I know I am fun, and too good a person to let something like that deny me a future.
I feel nothing for him now, and hope soon to be “Rolling in the Deep” (duvet) again.
Multi-talented Sammy Power can be heard from 5am til 9am weekdays as part of the Wave FM Hot Breakfast Crew, and also blogs weekly for thehoopla.com.au
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