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falling in love is still cheating

I wrote a post about Callie, and how we met, how we started dating, over at The Lesbian Lifestyle for their March discussion topic about cheating (see how I got it in under the wire? Seriously, it was practically 11pm on March 31st before I finished writing it. Ah, deadlines): falling in love is still cheating.

The beginnings of the relationship with her was quite a good story, it’s one I almost enjoy telling, except for, of course, the unfortunate way things turned out. Regardless though, it was interesting to revisit that part of our relationship and remember how excited I was to find her.

If you’re new to Sugarbutch, this short essay might be a good introduction to the 139 “A girl: Callie” tags and the six month relationship that required that I write every day in order to try to figure out what the heck was going on in that girl’s head. (Though this TLL post is definitely the short-n-sweet introductory version – the post ends with the time when we start dating, so none of the actual relationship is in there. Whew, not sure how to even start writing up a short-n-sweet version of that.)

At this point, nearly a year after we split, I just feel kinda sorry for the girls who walk around with this kind of filter on the world. Unfortunately, I can’t quite forgive her or wish her well, I’m still too bitter and feel so damn wronged, but I can firmly recognize it as a burdon she bares. I’ve seen and heard from many other women who have said “wow, I’m so like Callie” through the writings on Sugarbutch and my discussions with friends, and that makes my heart hurt a little. It’s such a long, difficult process to heal ourselves sometimes, and the particular coping mechanisms Callie has picked up along the way seem to really hurt her more than help.

(Not that I don’t have some of those myself – surely, I do. We all do. Hers just seem … more pronounced, perhaps, and more malicious.)

Here’s hoping we can all become aware of, and perhaps eventually get over, our own shit.

Donate to RAINN & let ‘em know I sent you – add  “GBBMC2008: Mr. Sinclair Sexsmith” in the information box. (Why?)

a request

I’m pretty sure she reads this place. She never told me outright, but I’ve had hints. She could probably pretty easily find it, given the clues. I wish I could ask her, now, to stop.

If you are reading this, please don’t visit any longer. Let me go through this without your eyes.

Protected: do I dare?

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