I’ve tried several times to write the long version of the story, but I just couldn’t. There were so many details, and once I started to think back, well I just didn’t want to go back there.
You’ll understand why as you read on.
About a year ago I met the man I thought I was going to marry.
He was the first man I ever brought home to meet my family.
I loved him, my family loved him, hell, even my dogs loved him.
He was perfect in every way.
Then he told me he had cancer and my world turned upside down.
I put my life on hold. Turned down a job offer in Europe. Fought with family. Alienated myself from friends.
I cried myself to sleep every night for two months, praying and asking why.
Wait. Before you jump to conclusions, let me stop you right here.
This is not a tragic story where my lover dies and I’m left with a huge hole in my heart and vow to be single for eternity.
This is also not an inspirational story where a man fights for his life, with his girlfriend by his side.
And this is definitely not a story about miracles.
This is a story about deception.
It turned out he lied about the cancer. It also turned out he lied about everything else, including what he did for a living. In fact I don’t think I ever knew him at all.
What hurt the most wasn’t that he lied to me or that he took my money.
It was that he took away the last glimpse of hope I had.
I had already been through bad relationships prior to him, and I was skeptical even before getting into this relationship. It also didn’t help to have divorced parents.
But meeting him had given me hope. For the first time in my life, I took a leap of faith and allowed myself to believe in happy endings.
It’s been over a year now, and while the pain has subsided, the wounds have not completely healed.
I’ll admit that a part of me is still angry. But there’s also another part which believes it happened for the best.
As for the hope part, well, I’m not exactly putting myself out there or jumping into another relationship. In fact, I might have been hiding out on my couch & eating fries.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t still have a tiny speck of hope left. Cause even though I’m a skeptical bitch, I’d like to believe that I’m a ‘hopeful’ skeptical bitch 🙂
And when I’m ready, I’ll get my ass off the couch and open up again.
Until then, here’s to #couchingandhoping