Last night MB and I were laying in bed talking and he told me about an ex that had been texting him a day or so ago. This is the same ex he had sent to jail after she drained his bank account a few years back. Originally she reached out to buy an insurance policy from him, but then cancelled that meeting and requested he come to her to fuck her.
That didn’t sit well with me.
Instantly, I could FEEL my defenses slam back into place. I could HEAR them rattle in my chest. When situations such as this presented in the past with people I’ve dated my response was always a flippant “If you want to be with me, you’ll be with me. If you want to be with her you’ll be with her.” But I couldn’t even gasp the words out around the lump in my throat. I could feel the tears burn my eyes.
The love I feel for him is so intense, so profound. So unlike anything I have ever felt with anyone else. Never has anyone ever made me feel so secure, yet insecure at the same time. I look at him and can’t believe this amazing, smart, sexy, caring man cares about ME, and that haunting choir of “if it seems to good to be true, it probably is” echos through my mind, Knotting my stomach. Making me physically tremble from the fear of losing him.
I tried to steel myself against the overwhelming emotion that flooded me.
MB was of course thrown at my reaction. He’d simply asked if I wanted to know about when these things happen. So many questions raced through my mind but I couldn’t form any words to ask. I didn’t know how. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know where to start. And I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know.
Why was he telling me this? Was it to hurt me? Was it to see my reaction? Was it really just blind honesty? Uncertainty? Love? Some exercise in trust?
I knew in that instant what I really wanted was to kill that bitch. To grab her by the neck, shove a pistol down her throat and very calmly whisper in her ear that if she ever even THOUGHT about his name again I would skin her alive and feed what was left to a pack of hungry raccoons.
But of course, I had to try and think more clearly than that. I needed to find myself out of that mix of blind rage, misplaced jealousy, unbridled love and sudden anxiety and sadness before I could say anything.
I don’t even remember if after everything I ever even gave him an answer as to whether or not I wanted to know about it. I’m still not sure I even want to know. Perhaps burying my head in the sand isn’t the best idea but it seems like it’s the least painful. What I don’t know won’t hurt me kind of thinking.
I can’t go to jail for murder. I would NOT look good in an orange jump suit.