Pandemic Betrayal

You know how you “just know” something, even if you can’t prove it? Some call it the sixth sense. Women for years have called it intuition. As a reasonable, logical person (at least that’s what I tell myself), I tend to lean toward rationality and science. Proof and numbers provide me solace from the murkiness of unfounded accusations, feeling,s and emotions.

A quick way to no-win relationship argument is (IMHO), “I feel like you may be doing things behind my back.” Nothing like setting the other side on alert, if they are doing unspoken betrayals behind one’s back. They’ll probably feel unjustly accused and be on high alert to keep a low profile if they are doing said things.

One day, I called my so-called boyfriend after he left my place. We were resuscitating an otherwise past-dead relationship. He didn’t pick up his phone. I called twice. It wasn’t out of the question as he was supposedly traveling a significant distance so pockets of dead cell connection are expected, if not inevitable.

I drove past the bar he used to frequent, where his truck was in all of its glory. Right in the midst of the pandemic, Texas opened up too early. After he specifically told me he wouldn’t go to the bar…due to the pandemic.

Part of me wanted to kick open the door and go in the Bride style. But it’s a pandemic and I’m immunocompromised. And I’m dealing with a petty little liar, who reminds all too often of a no-name Donald Trump.

He swears I’m paranoid about his mixed signals, so I play the long game.

The next day, he invites me over to see the house he’s renovating. I go and retain decent acting chops despite my lack of training. I arrive and he goes in for a hello kiss and then asks why I’m wearing my mask.

I look him dead in his eyes and tell him because he was at the bar the night before. He vehemently denies it. I pull out my phone…because — I. Have. Pictures.

He pulls every narcissistic maneuver in the book.

He calls me crazy, tells me I’m doing thing his ex-wife would do. I don’t argue. Instead, I leave. I was ready to call it quits many months ago.

When I was at my lowest, he was busy doing whatever he wanted. That’s how I’ll remember him.

He’ll have to face the consequences for that one day.

I just wanted to look at his eyes and see him for the first time. To see him for who he truly is. And for him to know I that I know. He can lie to others. He can lie to himself. But I see him clearly.

And know exactly who he is.

He says he’s sorry.

He’s sorry he’s been caught. We both know that. He’s sorry that he knows I know. It’s more beautiful and sickening than any story I could concoct. And now, I can peacefully sever any ties that bind.

He was okay with homicide by a pandemic. He was okay with killing me and lying about it. I understand it. His “liberties” are more important than my life.

When he calls, all that comes to mind is his betrayal. All of the things he said never added up. All of the nights I lost sleep. The nights I cried. The times he told me I was paranoid.

I knew it. Whatever he tells me now, it’s fine. It’s all fine.

Because I know exactly who I’m dealing with.

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