Under Cover Of Nice

He is lying again.

Whenever he is nice to me, offers me anything, it is because he is hiding some big secret and throwing up a smoke screen of ‘nice guy’ and ‘reaching out.’  And he wonders why I turn around and lash out within a day.  Because, in the back of my mind, I feel that something is very off, I just cannot put my finger on it, until I think on it, and realize what feels so wrong.  (That, and getting close to him hurts, and the memories come back, and the shock of his betrayal, and the terror of the now and the future.)

Like yesterday.  Adamant that he has not gone outside the marriage for sex of any kind. 

1.  I forgot to ask him his definition of ‘sex’.  My mistake.  I forgot, for the moment, how he plays games with questions, cruel games.  Don’t ask EXACTLY the right words, and he can lie without even feeling like he lied.  Convenient.  That is how teenagers think.

2.  He tried to pull a manipulative guilt trip about my activities.  He tries to use my sense of honor and caring about other people as a weapon, still, again, over and over.  I am so sick of his manipulative games. 

3.  That manipulation, his hypocritical statements implying that I should feel badly about my own actions, all are addict speech.  All are the same old accusations to distract from the true issue, place the other person on the defensive so they run around in their own circles of doing right that they stop looking into the addict’s behavior because they are too worried about their own. 

4.  In the same paragraph he says how he still lies and keeps secrets, but then proceeds to proclaim how sober he has been.  WTF???  Right, just like ‘I would never go outside the marriage for sex’ and ‘I only went twice’ and ‘I never masturbate’ and ‘I didn’t take any money out of the joint account’ and on and on and on ad nauseam. Just like some preteen brat who snuck into his dad’s porn stash again after lying about the last time he snuck into it, and thinking ‘he’s so stupid, look what I just got away with, he’ll never even know!’  Living for the rush of what he just pulled off , the rush he might, might get caught, and how fun the next time will be.  Just wants peace, he says, what a crock of shit.  Only truth provides peace.  Lies and secrets provide the thrill, the rush which is the only thing he really, truly wants.  That is how 11 year olds think.

 5.  He still has huge chunks of time unaccounted for and seems not to care about that.  Oh, but that’s right, he isn’t putting any effort into this relationship anymore.  But his forgiveness definition makes it sound like I am still expected to do all the work.  Where in that is his responsibility for earning that forgiveness with real actions?  Earning it with effort?  Earning it with real reparations?  

6.  He doesn’t seem to care about being transparent or honest.  It just doesn’t seem important to him at all.  Not to practice it, not to be it, nothing.  He is so busy rationalizing and making the excuse about how he doesn’t trust me.  Well, he has NEVER trusted me.  If he refuses to take any risks, he is still in full addict mode and refusing to make any real, lasting changes, because risking scary, dangerous, leaves oneself vulnerable.  Risking is what I did.  Oh, right, he knows just how much advantage he took of me.  Well, that will never happen to him!  Right, he’ll just keep doing it to other people, get even with them before they can hurt him first.  That is how small children think.

7.  It all adds up to him still acting out.

I must remember these red flags.  Never, ever forget these addict mind games indicate he is scheming and hiding behind his ‘nice guy’ face.  I so want and wish things were different, and he will use that against me.  Only evidence.  Only real actions.  If he cannot convince me beyond any doubts that he is changing, sober, not lying to me, and wants me more than anything else on this planet, then there is nothing worth going back to.  I told him.  I want someone completely different.  That person might be him, but only if he is completely different. 

He isn’t.  He is still a big fat lying addict.  The only fundamental change I notice is that he got caught, so he had to reevaluate how sneaky and tricky he wasn’t managing to be.  It just upped the game and the shame and the excitement.  I do not see that he will ever change into a basically honest, caring human being.  He may improve his personhood, but I don’t see him ever being the person I want to spend the rest of my years with.  And I have no intention of ever being in a relationship with him on his terms again.  His terms don’t mean anything to him, so why am I going to agree?  Just more manipulation so he can have control.  But he refuses to learn control over himself.

The hard fact is, addicts are devoted only to their addictions.  They will say anything, do anything, destroy anything or anyone to keep their addiction just like they need it.  He has not given up a single one of his many addictions for more than a month.  Why the hell would there be a chance he has given up the one that hurt-him-so-good the most?

It almost feels like he tries to keep me off balance and confused, holding out with one hand like an offering of life, while holding a stick in the other to beat me with.  With his chosen words he says he wants this or that, but between the lines he is subtly trying to clue me in that he really cannot be trusted and I am a fool for thinking otherwise.  Part of him wants his life back just like he liked it, and part which really cares wants to warn me to stay away from him.

He undermines his positive qualities by allowing his huge character flaws, flaw seems so minimal for what he is capable of, his huge character flaws to run over other people’s lives. 

Gods, it’s like Filip when he was a baby, hurting me as his way to interact with me because it was too intense and confusing for him.  Only this baby is 350 lbs flailing about and barely aware of the people he is bludgeoning with his huge fists and kicking and screaming all the while blaming those other people for the fact that his hands and feet keep getting hurt on their bones.

Focusing on his shit again. 


I don’t get miracles.  I get cruelly used.  I get addicts and liars and cheats, good gods.

Is this all there is?  Is there nothing more? Is THIS the sum total of the love I will have experienced from a partner in this life?

What about real love?  What about a real person with real feelings and actually cares about anything?

Back in my own head.  My life.  My wants.  My needs.

I am the place to be.  I am loving and loveable.  I am strong and sexy and desirable.  I am intelligent and caring and thoughtful.  I take care of myself and those I love.  I am supportive and transformative.  I am basically honest and a good person.  I am worth anyone’s effort.  I demand proof and honesty and true devotion from any partner I choose.

I choose.

I get miracles.  I get treated with love and respect.

I focus on my shit and get it cleaned up and recycled.

I enjoyed my time with Filip yesterday.  We spent time with that silly game, and shared an appetizer, and tried on different versions of Welsh naming for my energy signature name.  I still don’t have a final version, but it was a good time to share with someone I care very deeply about.  I enjoyed watching him put his foot down with his grandfather about the tires.  I warned him that passive-aggressive behavior may come about because of it, and not to be surprised if his grandfather ‘forgets’ to keep all the tires as Filip insisted.  Good Lad.

I am glad I purchased the extra laundry baskets.  Having my new clothing sorted and off the floor is comforting.

I dreamed of a journey.  There were pieces we could collect, use like energy.  There was some sort of large monster that loved me but I had to be careful because it was, after all, a monster, and any moment might forget its love and eat me.  But I felt safe, because it would protect me from any of the enemies.  I recall lots of warm red gold sunlight, and little balls of energy like coins to be saved or used, and huge trees, and a sense of belonging.  I wish I could recall the story line.  It was intriguing, even if there were enemies to be feared and avoided.  There was also safety, and companionship, and purpose.  I had a real purpose, something I was important and was able to do.  Which was why the monster was drawn to me, something about my strength and my purpose. 

I, and only I, must decide what I want.

I can walk among the wildflowers and not fear the bees.  I can.  I do.

I can’t believe I am living this nightmare.  I still feel like I died and woke up in hell.  Gods, I am so lonely.


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