Roger painted me as unforgiving.
The reality was, he wouldn’t do what I needed, to make me feel safe.
I asked him to please change his phone number. He argued it was best to keep it, as then he could “manage” Leanne’s apparent crazy.
This left me in a constant panic. That they were still playing me.
And yeah, well, after all his assurances that he was done, he went and fucked her again, two years after “he was done.”
He never tried to work out why he did it. Who he is and why. He never bought a single book, read a single article, or booked a single counselling appointment.
Oh, not true. He booked a psychologist. For ME!
Because I was the problem. My reaction to his actions. That was a problem for him.
Secrets are his stock in trade.
When I finally discovered Trinket, I started digging again.
Marriage fucking policing AGAIN!
And I got as far as online dating profiles on three different platforms (technophobe, riiiiight) going back at least two years. I gave up digging after that. No doubt it went on much further back. I honestly had no clue about this behaviour. Why would I, when he kept telling me he wanted only me, kept touching me, holding me, “loving” me, and “only” me. I was the only woman who got him, the only woman FOR him. He’d never have with anyone else what he had with me….
By a fucking maestro.
But, my gut knew. I knew not to let my guard down. I knew deep down what he was capable of. I wasn’t fully conscious of my own intuition, but I struggled with forgetting. I could and did, forgive … enough. Not complete “forgiveness.” Deliberately breaking the person who adores you’s heart is actually quite literally the definition of unforgivable.
Deceit. That was always him. While stroking you softly, he would plunge the knife in.
So, I was made to feel not good enough.
Not a good enough forgiver.
Despite staying (and he knew my stance on cheating) and busting my arse to heal us, from what he did. Despite all the time taken and paid for, in therapy. Despite four years of cramming in two degrees (to help me understand human behaviour, and to try to rebuild some absolutely shattered self esteem) whilst working, raising kids and running the accounts for our farm.
He did it again.
Sadly, proving all my intuition to be spot on.
He didn’t change.
He just got even better at hiding his duplicity. Better at the soul rape. Better at fooling me that he was only having sex with me. Better at getting non-consensual sex, because I never consented to share my body with others, to expose myself to the diseases I now carry in my body, because he shared his with others.
But, I still feel “not good enough.” Even with all of this knowledge.
That’s the terrible scar left by a cheater, on a loyal, loving partner. It never fades. You just learn to dress to hide it better.