They say the first cut is the deepest, but I think we all know that’s bullshit. The cut can always get deeper. The more it slices, the more it stings, the worse it hurts, the harder you fall. Saying the first cut is the deepest is essentially romance version of Santa Clause: it can’t get any worse, someone better will come along, you’ll be fine. And while this may be fine and dandy, the blanket statement lessens the significance of the feelings at the time.
I absolutely believe things can always get better, someone else will come along and they’ll be fucking fantastic. And yes – you will be fine. But I also believe that the second cut is deeper. Way deeper.
I distract myself with noise: work, movies, television, writing, audiobooks, music. I focus on all that’s around me, for to focus on what’s inside me would be to acknowledge weakness. Once the noise goes away, as does my guard. Water creeps out the corners of my eyes as I attempt to stifle any audible sounds that may give my grievance away. My carefully compartmentalized emotions blending into one encompassing mass.
The worst thing is, I knew this would happen. I knew exactly how the conversation was going to go, Hell, I could’ve written the script. But it had to happen. I couldn’t go on pretending what wasn’t.
They say fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me. I also call this bullshit. At least in my situation, I knew exactly what was happening. Being led on isn’t as simple as one person lies and the other dances happily in their palm. It’s the feeling of being desired and rejected simultaneously. Being led on is seeing the reality and choosing the fantasy. For at least in the fantasy you’re special. The laughs, the cuddles, the kisses, they all feel real – so why not let them be real. I’m just as guilty as she in that aspect.
However, I can’t pretend that nothing happened. Nor do I want to. What’s done is done, it’s complicated as our circles are intermixed.
Like I told her, “It’s some Ross and Rachel bullshit.”