This is, I guess, a last resort of sorts for me, as I have a large amount of anxiety and depression right now, and no longer have anyone to talk to about it. So rational reasoning dictates I post anyonymous ramblings online. Does it work? Who knows. But it makes me feel better, so #[email protected]! it.
I guess I could start at the beginning, but that in itself would take longer than the night I plan to be inebriated enough to write such things, so instead I'll start with the recent past. I have discovered within the past ten days that my girlfriend, whom I lived with, was cheating on me. No big deal, heart-breaking yes, but nothing I haven't dealt with before in past relationships. As it turns out, she was cheating… with multiple men… for money… in the apartment directly above ours… and the landlord was arranging the whole thing. The details came to me later as I started actually thinking about strange things I had noticed but never thought about. Like the cars parked in the street that were gone the next morning, or the fact that she was gone at 6:00 AM when I would wake up sometimes, or when I noticed her going upstairs at 6:00 AM to "return scissors to the landlord".
The knowledge of this actually gave me comfort, at first, that I was out of the situation now and able to move on and feel better about leaving her. That is until I found out my best friend of 15 years; the person I confided in when I had suspicions of her cheating; the person that helped me move my furniture out of her apartment, was sleeping with her. I think that cut me deeper than finding out she was a prostitute. He was there when my father died of cancer, he was there when I discovered my past fiance was cheating on me, he was someone I called my brother.
I should note that my history with "past loves" is very tainted. Although I'm currently 25, I've always dated casually without seeking "love", but I have three significant relationships in my past that have turned out to be… ugly. In 2008 I started seeing a co-worker (I know, mistake) and six months later she turned out to be a coke-addicted internet porn actress. That one hit me pretty hard. About a year later I met a girl at the movies and asked her out, we dated for a year, got engaged, and then discovered she was not only a cheater, but a sociopath. I gave up exclusive dating for about two years after that, until I met the most recent "love" at a New Year's party. I rented a cabin with a group of close friends that I had known for about seven years, some of them fifteen years, and one girl that was a mutual friend – lucky number three. I figured, "Hey, she is friends with my friends, who are great, well-rounded people with high moral values, she might be alright."
She was more than alright, she was perfect – too perfect. I had more in common with her than anyone I had ever met. It was almost scary. We would constantly test each other to find out what we didn't have in common, which turned out to be less than I can count on three fingers. It felt right. We spent every day with each other. I think there was only one night she spent away and it drove us both crazy, so we decided she would spent the night at my apartment. I took her to my aunt's wedding, she got the bouquet handed to her specifically, she found a place for rent, we moved in together, and the rest is history.
Over the course of three weeks I became suspicous of her cheating. Details that I don't feel comfortable displaying on the internet became inscreasingly obvious, and the stress built up. It was affecting my work to the point that I was given four days off to get myself back to normal. Three weeks of anxiety. I decided I had to know the truth, so I set a microphone to record the apartment while I was gone. The night I listened to the recording – the last night I spent with her – I drank ten beers and a bottle of wine to get to sleep. The next day I had everything moved out before she got home. When she got home and discovered the empty apartment, I got a phone call – "I need my phone charger for the car."
As I am now about halfway through my bottle, I'll end my ramblings before they become illegible.