I opened up. My body walked out on the public opinion ledge and stood fully naked in front of the stale popcorn eating crowd. I did my best to explain every detail with tears streaming down my face as I strung all the words together. When you tell the truth, people have some kind of gasoline-ignited burning desire to yell back. Somewhere the word “writer” or “author” has become synonymous with ‘caring about everyone’s opinions’.
People have spoken kind words. Those words have helped me in knowing I’m not alone, and for them I’m forever grateful. Rock bottom is place built up in hate by the person who you thought loved you. The one who promised to spend forever with you. I assure you it’s a deserted, lonely, and dried-up dehydrated crazy place to call a home.
Some words people say and write aren’t kind. It’s okay, because something you learn as a writer is how to get tough skin. You accept rejection and you let it roll into the shit pile, then you try to polish the turd into something acceptable. It’s either clean up your essay so it may pass as something well-written, or put it in the “I’m never going to publish this” file. I have a rather large unpublished file.
I’ve also developed a persona known as “Misfit”. She handles the people who think I value and desire their input and judgment. For the record, I do not value the judgment. You don’t know every aspect of my past, present, and each gory detail in-between.
In doing this writing gig, I have to ask, “Out of a 1200 plus word essay, at what point do you think I owe you more of an explanation?” I don’t. I wrote what I had to say. It ends there. I may write several essays on a point of view or a topic, so add up ALL those words together and conclude one thing, and one thing only. I’ve stated it before and I’ll say it again, “I’m not writing to be read, I’m writing to write.” This means I’m not writing for your opinion, negativity, and blame.
Since the train is arriving into the blame station, I’d like to take this opportunity and express in writing all the myths I’ve recently received about why my husband cheated on me. Apparently, in a mass majority side-viewing crowd I’m to blame for his infidelities. This should be fun. Let’s discover all the reasons to blame me.
- “He cheated on me because I let myself go. Becoming a mom and working, I didn’t take time to look my best for him.” To people who have this small, narrow mindset. To the people who have actually vocalized these words aloud, I’d like to say, “Thanks for making me feel ugly. I really needed to be bombarded with your judgment on my appearance after my husband cheated on me.” YOU ARE NOT HELPFUL WHATSOEVER. If a man only married me for ‘my looks’ or ‘appearance’: please pick up your keys, open the front door, and NEVER look back. Because I will age. Sorry, I can’t stop aging. If you have the fountain of youth nearby, please share your mystical eternal forever young juice. Stop being a greedy fountain of youth hog. Otherwise, if you don’t have access to this fountain, just think about your words and don’t speak. Back away from the computer. Go pick yourself apart in the mirror and quit reflecting your insecurities on me.
- “He cheated because I wasn’t giving him enough sexy time or being adventurous in the bedroom.” Hi, I’m a Pisces. We invented love-making. All day binge sex-sessions with sweat running down our arched backs as we mount a man. The truth is: He could never keep up with me. Guess who didn’t cheat? Me. I’m an adaptive people pleaser which means I am able to adapt to whatever adventures men seek because I like making people happy. This argument, in my case, is null in void. It’s white noise. I can’t hear your words over my loud, obnoxious, constant love-making and all the bare-skin making that slap… slap…slap…OH MY GOD, HARDER! noise.
- “He cheated because all men revert back to a cavemen mentality and aren’t bred to be monogamous creatures.” A man said this. Not a woman. He sincerely implied and found articles to sustain his argument on the Internets. Dear Sir, we can validate any opinion on the internet. I think there are men who want faithfulness and honesty in their relationships. Men who honor and cherish their wedding vows. Men who are supportive of their mate’s dreams and personal goals. Men who love one woman with all their heart and soul. I’m also a die-hard romantic dreamer, so I could be wrong. I don’t think all men are neanderthals. We have evolved. We’re specifically created cells of DNA who should be a few millennia removed from dragging women by the hair into a cave and grunting. By the way, women cheat too. It’s not a one gender issue.
- This one is by far my favorite: “He cheated because I wasn’t giving him enough attention. I neglected him.” This is a grown-ass man. It’s not my duty as a woman or as a wife to be at his beck and call like Old Yeller. I’m certain God didn’t put me on this earth to sit and stare at a man. To pat him on the back at every small deed and say, “Good job.” You know how to say I need more affection and attention, you do this: Walk up to woman. Hug and kiss her. Say, “I miss you. I’d like to go to bed and lay naked with you for hours”. Or you could invite her out on a date. Or you could simply say, “tonight I’d like some of your time. You’re special to me.” Cheating will not accomplish nearly as much as doing these things. If you can’t vocalize these feelings, send an email or a text or a Facebook message or write with crayons on the wall. Just do whatever you have to do to communicate. Also, you know what a woman might listen to more: “You don’t give me enough attention so I might cheat.” That’s called H-O-N-E-S-T-Y. I spelled it out for the people who don’t know what it is. You can start by Googling it.
After all the blame I’ve taken for why I deserved to be cheated on, I have made one concrete conclusion. My husband is a greedy pirate hooker who stole my love. He also made a choice. Not one choice, but THREE EXTREMELY HURTFUL choices. I am not perfect. I’ve had my bad days just as I have good days. I’m faithful. I’m honest, and I love with all my heart and soul. Perhaps to my own fault. At least I’m not a greedy pirate hooker stealing love from people who care about me.