Moving on the Unhealthy Way

I tried to be healthy, I really did. I spent all my time with friends and family, in relative seclusion. I didn’t really go out or party too much, and I focused on my own shit, while helping out at home. Unfortunately, that approach was too slow for me. I like to get things done quickly with a bit of excitement. I did not want to waste any more time pining over an asshole. I hated being in that position.

Fast forward a month into my stay back home in Connecticut, I was doing my darndest to get over my ex. Blocking his number and email? Check. Deleting all of our pictures together? Check. Trying to forget about him? CHECK FOR SURE.

After my last therapy session, I decided that I was going to give our marriage another chance.. that I was going to see what . That night, I called him, and instead of being grateful that I was even giving him the time of day, he accused me of cheating on him. When I wasn’t. Here I was.. actually in a place to try again with him after he had been an utter shithead to me. Ugh.

I flipped my shit after our call. Being accused of things that you have not done SUCKS, especially when you’re trying your best. I was drug and alcohol free, and I was still being faithful even though our marriage was basically over. When you are going out of your way to give someone the benefit of the doubt, being honest, and trying your best.. it’s pretty damn demoralizing when they’re still trying to tear you down.

I hung up on him and decided that if he’s accusing me of being a cheater, being insecure and irrationally possessive/jealous.. it was time to move on.

Anyways, that was my final, last straw past no point of return. Forget giving us another change. You want to know how I moved on from my ex’s dicksand? Pretty crude, but I basically flirted my way out with a bunch of fuckboys.

For the first weekend, I completely ignored my ex’s emails. I had never even went a day without checking his emails before, but I did it that weekend. Here are some shady/thirsty rebound shit I did:

Downloaded Tinder, Home of the Fuckboys

Tinder was basically my first step to moving on.. I just wanted to find a hot guy to chat with online. I had no intentions to meet up because I was fucked up like that. I just wanted that ego boost to know I still got it. But DAYUM yo. After HOURS of swiping, swiping, swiping. NADA. No guys I was interested in. Hartford is small dude. I didn’t realize exactly how small it was until I started swiping through Tinder. I swiped past like… eight different guy friends in the area too. MY FRIENDS. *shivers*

After living in San Francisco, where the people are plentiful and beautiful, I forgot that the singles selection in Connecticut was whack AF. Not to be super shallow or anything (but yes, this is literally super shallow), these East Coast guys that I’d normally label as 6’s or 7’s were considered 8’s and 9’s here. The profile bios for these dudes would be like, “Graduated from Columbia/Harvard/MIT/attorney/doctor/researcher [insert important sounding occupation/prominent university here]”

Whereas in SF, there were so many 9s and 10s who would be like “Oh, I’m a model/actor/director/producer/musician/athlete/host blah [insert entertainment occupation here]” There’s really a huge difference in Tinder game between the coasts. From my experience, East Coast guys were nicer, more educated, not as pretty to look at, while the West Coast boys were hotter, dumber, and inundated with a bunch of basic bitches.

Opened Lines of Communication with a Guaranteed Fuckboy

This was my second step to moving on. I put a lot of my pent-up feelings and energy into chatting with Ronny (Related Post: Falling for an Unavailable Guy While Still being Married). I knew nothing long-term or serious was going to happen with him. Afterall, he was 3000 miles away with a girlfriend.

Sure, he was saying shit like “Oh, it takes time to break up with someone.” UH. Homey, you think I’m stupid? I’ve been around a number of fuckboys throughout the years, and come on, let’s be real here.. I’m in the middle of a marriage separation with annulment plans for the unforeseeable future. You think I want to jump into anything? Secondly, you think I actually believe that you’re going to leave your girl for me? I’m not about dat life, and I would not want a man like that anyways.

The way I saw things, I was using regular fuckboys to move on from King Fuckboy. That way, I didn’t feel much guilt when I would ultimately ghost on them. To be fair though, I did kind of develop a crush on Ronny. He was sweet, complimented me a lot, and it was clear he kind of cared about me and my situation. He could never actually “be there” for me since he was taken already, but I didn’t want him to do that anyways. I didn’t want a good guy right now. Not only that, but it would be best if good guys stayed away from me during this period. I had nothing positive to offer them.

Went on a Date with an Old Casual Hook-Up

For my my third moving-on step in this fucked up process, I decided to meet up with Keith (Related Post: Just Got Two Dates). I already knew from past experiences that I wasn’t going to get all emotionally attached to him, and I also knew that he was a low-key fuckboy slash friend. Not to mention, he lived in Connecticut too, and it would have never worked — especially since I fully planned on moving back to SF. Haillllzzz  nah to long distance. Eff that jazz.

Keith was a safe option for me because I had known him for years already — since our college days. Back then, I thought he was really cute and smart, but alas, he had a girlfriend at the time, so things got confusing between us. By the time they ended things, I had already moved out to SF, and got a couple boyfriends of my own. A couple years ago, we tried rekindling things, but then I decided he was too boring. Although he was definitely my type in school, it had already been five years, and tastes change.

Anyways, apologies for the boring ass backstory, but my point is — I trusted Keith enough to know that he wasn’t batshit crazy, and he wasn’t going to make me feel uncomfortable or pursue anything serious with me. However, he was good for cheering me up at the moment without pressuring me for anything.

There’s that ever-popular saying, “the only way to get over someone is to get under somebody else.” I wasn’t really in a rush to get under a bunch of dudes, so I stuck to flirting for a bit.

After following these three steps for a few weeks, BOOM. It worked. And just like that, I no longer obsessed over my ex. Sure, he was still a pain in my kaboose, but at least I could see more clearly now. I could see the way he tried manipulating me, and I could also see him from a more objective point of view — but to be honest, would it ever be completely objective?

(Check out my first post here: Moving Back Home)

 

Browsing Through Match.com

So I tried Match.com’s free trial period because there was no way I was gonna pay for that. When I started filling out my profile, there was a section that asked if I was “single”, “divorced”, or “separated”. I know I should have checked off “separated”, but shame made me check off “single”. I hated that this was going to stick with me now. I felt marked. Damaged goods.

I know I said I was only window shopping (Refer to my previous post: The Last Call We Had), but I couldn’t help but look over some profiles. I didn’t realize that whenever you visit someone’s profile, they see that you looked at their page.

When I woke up the next morning, I saw that I got an overwhelming response. What? Hello, ego boost!

I scanned through my spam inbox. Insults from the soon-to-be-ex-husband ensued. I’m over the insults. I’m so tired of fighting. I’m so exhausted from babying this guy. I felt less angry at him now though. After a year of being accused of cheating when I was being loyal, at least the accusations were kind of founded now. Pierre always considered himself a psychic. Now that I know him, I realize that whatever he said ended up becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Anything that was in his control.. like predicting that “something big and life-changing was going to happen” when his family visited, he made sure that “something” would happen. It was his own actions that propelled me out of his life. I didn’t want to think about it.

Instead, I set my mind to checking the Match dating application. Meh. Lots of guys interested, but I wasn’t interested in anyone at all.

Well, there was one guy, Adam, but he didn’t poke me or whatever the hell you were supposed to do on this website. Oh well. If I thought he was the only hot dude on the website, there were probably loads of other ladies who thought so too. I have good taste in men *wink*.

I really don’t know how people get over their significant other the healthy way. The only way I’ve ever known for moving on from someone was by locking onto another love interest. I’ll save that one for my therapist.

(You can read my first post here: Back at Home)

The Last Call We Had

Pierre called today.

I was hanging out with my mom and sister when I saw his name pop up on my phone. Buzz Buzz Buzz. Do I pick up? Of course I do.

The conversation was definitely strained. It started out friendly enough, but it was evident that there was boiling below a shaky surface. He asks me when I’m coming home.

How do I answer that? Do wives just come back to their abusive husbands on just his word that he has changed? I tell him what I’ve been telling him for the past couple weeks. I don’t know. I’m undecided. I’ve been seeing a therapist to talk about this bullshit. I’ve been spending time with my childhood friends to catch up and to talk out some feelings. My sister and all of my friends hate Pierre. My mom is whatever about him.. mostly because he reminds her of my dad. P.S. My dad is also an anus-hole.

“When are you coming home?” Pierre repeats on the other end of the line. I had walked out of the apartment and was smoking a cigarette outside.

“I don’t know,” I said. I was so undecided. I was so hopelessly in love with this guy. I missed being in his arms, gazing into his eyes. I missed kissing him.

I told him that it’s not black and white. The decision to stay with him was not a clear one. I wanted to try for the sake of being married, but at what cost? I let it slip that I preferred that he cheated on me so that I could make a clear decision.

He gets mad that I mention that.

“You’re being a beech, you know?” Pierre sneers in a thick French accent. He proceeds to accuse me of cheating and the insults ensue. Per usual, I lose my cool, and I threaten to get a divorce right there, but who was I kidding? I needed to be in San Francisco for that. I couldn’t afford a family law lawyer right now either. What I really needed to do was move on.

He was still disrespecting me. All I wanted him to do was keep composure and respect me for a couple weeks straight. I wanted to see if he could practice restraint. I wanted to see that he was making a noticeable effort. Instead, he continued cutting me off by throwing a tantrum, convinced that I cheated on him. I hung up.

I tried to distract myself. I watched some mindless reality show on VH1. I tried reading a book. I showered. I wash dishes. It was almost 3am. I tried sleeping, but I couldn’t. I tried surfing the Internet looking for advice on what to do. I finally settled on joining a dating website against my better judgement — despite my efforts to be alone. I told myself I’m just window shopping, when really I had no idea what I was doing. I mostly wanted to keep myself distracted from checking Pierre’s insulting emails.

It sucks to be accused of cheating on your spouse when you’re being faithful. It’s the worst feeling. Even under these fucking circumstances.. dude put his hands on me. We were separated for a month already. This whole month, he would constantly let his insecurities get the best of him and accuse, accuse, accuse. My goodness dude. I just couldn’t anymore.

Anyways, I joined a dating website that night. Window shopping.

(You can read my first post here: Back at Home)