Rainbows and Butterflies

I’ve been writing a book for almost 9 years.

I’ve written on every subject from boys to feelings to life lessons…But I’ve never been able to write about you.

Each time I do, I can never paint the picture correctly. It’s like I’m a little kid with paint by numbers, but I’m putting all the colors together or I’m going outside the lines. When in all actuality our picture was so beautiful and as infinite as a Colorado sunset. The truth is, even though you broke my heart and crushed my spirit, you, would be the man I compared all of my new men too.

At first after we split, I tried finding guys who were the complete opposite of you. Not soft, not clean cut, not working in an office job, not, not not. If there were ever a grave mistake that I made in that time it was that-all of the nots. In some ways, I wish someone would have stopped me in my tracks-maybe lay down some sticky tar so that I would have been frozen in my tracks. The truth is…in all of my efforts to find someone opposite from you, I was only hurting myself in the long run.

I should hate you. You asked for a divorce almost exactly 7 months after my MOTHER died. Not my dog, not a distant relative-my mom. You and I were all she had, and now you were taking away yourself from the equation leaving me all alone. I should hate you because I couldn’t properly grieve the loss of my mom because you selfishly chose a time where I was literally swimming around like a fish in the barrel, you holding the gun to try to shoot me. I felt like you single handedly took a giant knife and slashed my coratid artery open and patiently waited for me to bleed out so you didn’t have to deal with the aftermath.

The ending of us was like an atomic bomb. The residual effects were something that I had never felt before. We worked together, and so did your mister(ress). He was 18. Everyday I’d sit at my desk with a slingblade slashing me while I heard about the two of you and your activities. You see, I was no longer the person who was getting a divorce, I was the woman who was getting a divorce so her husband could be with the MAN he had fallen for, while he was married to her. I was the woman whose husband had an 18 year old boyfriend. I should hate you.

I decided to save face I would need your mister to become my friend. We spent time together outside of work, and still to this day  talk…about you. Funny thing is, we talk more than you and I do-which means that you and I are no longer a you and I.

The moment we ended-I became a completely different person.

I became inately broken and there was no way that it would be fixed. I stayed friends with you because I hoped that maybe it would help with the transition.

You have been with your fiance for 5 years now. I’ve been married and divorced 2 times after you.

When he proposed, you told me how excited your mom is. She actually wanted to come up for the proposal. Do you remember how she acted when we got married? It makes me feel like a giant pile of shit-that we were married for 4 years and she never once said that she was happy for us. It makes me feel even more like shit that you didn’t think that would hurt me when you told me. It makes me angry that you didn’t even call until a week after to tell me.

I know eventually, letting this go probably requires me to not be friends with you anymore-and that-breaks my heart. We’ve been through so much together and you know me better than anyone else. I just hope that maybe you’ll miss me and realize why I finally left.

You are my first true love. And sometimes I wonder if you’ll always be my only. There hasn’t been a man who compares to you, maybe because the friendship before dating thing is a lost cause these days.

I’ll never forgive you for the collateral damage you left me with, and I definitely won’t forgive you for acting like we were never married. I was your wife. I was your best friend for one thousand five hundred and fifty one days. That should count as something I think. Something…anything…

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