Yesterday I’d written about Biker Guy and realizing I’m just an option to him, no matter how much he tries to convince me otherwise. Actions speak far more than any words.
On Monday, I’d taken a nice long walk on the beach to clear my head, and I told myself that I’m going to stop doing so much for him and do my own thing, because I felt like I was being used and not taking care of my own needs, and he wasn’t helping me in any way. I felt confident about my decision, and I told him I’m not happy with his behavior and I refuse to enable him, and that I’m perfectly happy being single if he doesn’t have time for me. Of course, he told me what women want to hear; I just needed physical proof this time. Also, in his accident from Saturday night, he’d received a ticket for leaving the scene, but it happened in front of his house, so I’m unsure what exactly occurred.
Then I stopped at a friend’s house for some “girl time,” so I could get some things off my chest. Biker Guy had texted me a lot while I was there (he does that when I’m “unavailable” for him). I’d also sent him a Facebook friend request, because after all, we’d been friends for an entire year, and if I’m going to be dating someone, I think we should be on each other’s social media pages at least. Once he accepted, I saw photos I had never seen before – many of him and the other woman he dated, and it made me resentful that out of all of the time I’d known him, I was never mentioned anywhere about anything, and it also appeared as if he’d made a lot of time to do things with her… so what was wrong with him doing the same for me? It made me feel like shit.
There were some other things that I questioned due to the timestamps on the posts – because last year when he was blowing me off, there are photos of them together. At that point, I decided it was time for me to contact this woman and find out her side of the story, because I wasn’t sure if he’d been telling me the truth. The good news is, he had been honest about them dating and breaking up during the times he said; however, she’d told me that he’d contacted her a few times wanting to hang out after she broke it off, and she reminded him that they were only friends. Now this really concerned me, because I didn’t know if he had been doing this while he was with me, if he’s playing us both trying to get laid or what the fuck is going on. It also explains why he begged me not to contact her weeks ago – because when he told me he was out “riding with the guys” he was with that group of friends. Why wasn’t I invited? I mean, he knew most of my friends and even my family, so what the fuck is going on here?
In the meantime, Biker Guy knew that I was sitting at my friend’s house talking about him and was texting me to come over. I told him no, that I wasn’t going to his house; if he wants to see me, he has to make the effort. Then I started questioning him about some of the things I’d seen, and at some point he said that he loved me, but I didn’t believe it. And then shit hit the fan.
The woman I’d contacted was very nice, and our conversation did ease some of my suspicions, which is why I wish I’d done it sooner (we are now friends on Facebook). Without me even asking, just in general conversation, she’d mentioned she’d seen Biker Guy on Saturday night with their friends. I asked this Saturday, as in the Fourth of July? I was not expecting her to say yes. I was shocked, because this was during the time he’d been texting me that he was fixing that truck. I asked what time, and he was sitting there at seven o’clock when she arrived. I was floored. Before I knew all of the details, I’d confronted him, and he said he went after fixing the truck, which was another lie, because I had timestamps for all of the texts! Not only that, but he’d told that same group of friends that he’d been fixing a truck all day when he was really with me! What. The. Fuck.
Biker Guy had texted me at 6:30 saying he was heading up to fix the truck. He’d continued messaging me about every hour saying he was still working on it up until 10:15pm saying he had another half hour or so and heading home, even still apologizing that he “had to work.” At 10:30 he’d had the accident, according to the police log – so he’d been sitting at the bar/restaurant the entire time while I was sitting alone watching private fireworks and wishing I’d been with the man I care about, all along thinking he was making a lot of money that he really needed to fix a fucking fictitious truck! He had made up a truly elaborate lie… for what? What reason?? If he didn’t want to be with me, then he should have just said something, and I’d have moved on. I still don’t know. I’m not sure I will ever know, because I haven’t seen him since.
At that point, I saw nothing but red. My friend was trying to talk to me, and I was in a rage inside my head that I couldn’t think straight. I was so angry, definitely more angry than the night I lost my shit on someone in public. I knew there was no turning back from that point on in this relationship, because if I do, then I’m enabling him to treat me poorly again. Besides, what trust I had built was demolished. I refused to go to his house to listen to his bullshit explanation, but I went full on psycho with text messages until late at night, called him every name in the book, and screamed so loud I’m sure my neighbors thought I was being murdered. Then I slept for a few hours, woke up and sent him more psycho texts. (I say “psycho” because there were numerous ones asking questions, telling him off, calling him names, etc. all day while he was at work. I would never threaten anyone, nor did I wish bad things.)
I did NOT deserve this treatment, and it made me physically ill to think I’d just made his breakfast that morning, went out of my way to do dinner we never got to have, not to mention the fact he’d had sex with me that afternoon before “going to work on the truck,” ditching me on a holiday knowing that anyone who truly loved me would have loved to be with me. I am sick over it, brokenhearted, no appetite, and I’ve had to drug myself just to get to sleep. My anxiety and depression that I finally had under control came rushing back. I feel as if I’ve been
punched – no, kicked – in the stomach. I am forcing myself to eat, even if it’s a few bites of something, because the last time I got fucked over by someone I was in love with, I didn’t eat for four months.
I had and still have so many questions as to WHY he thought it was okay for him to do that. He was the last person I’d expect to do something like this, because we’d both recently been opening up to each other, and I was trusting him more. I felt closer to him than ever before, and that’s saying a lot, because I don’t get close to anyone. And then it was gone within seconds. Oh, and did I mention he had asked me to go to New York with him where his family lives? Yeah, so this was a huge blow that he’d ask me that but ditch me and lie about it to be with local friends.
He hasn’t found the time to explain anything to me, which is not a surprise at all, although what possible explanation could he give without creating more lies? This was an outright PLANNED lie, stringing me along, and it didn’t even allow me to make my own plans. Even writing about this now is making me feel sick and anxious inside. And just minutes prior to me finding this out, he tells me he loves me? I’m so fucking confused at this point, I don’t know what to think. More lies, more manipulation – and I deserved NONE of it!
When I was done being angry yesterday, I was driving home and suddenly, out of nowhere, the tears flooded. I bawled for a while, because I knew that it was over for good, and it hurt as if someone had died. It almost felt like I’d been cheated on, which is a horrible sinking stabbing in the stomach feeling. No matter how hard I had tried, he treated me like he hated me, like an option, like a friend with benefits – definitely not the way you treat someone you care about or “love” at all. I knew that not only was I having to start over not seeing him anymore, I’m having to heal all over again after him ghosting me and me forgiving that, except this time there won’t be a third chance.