Damn. He was perfect.

Ladies, something we may never know the answer to is, why do we end up in these situations? Is it that we are too forgiving? Too inviting? Too nice? Too smart? Beautiful? Why do we have to portray ourselves as mean and bitter as the result of befriending a man that we thought had potential to be our 'best friend.' Someone whom we figured was worthy of that vested time, but ended up lying to us? How did we get here? Why do we have to apply that ever so cliché, "Accept what you cannot change" hooplah or the "Girl, just forget about him and move, on" bullshit. As if it's really that easy. Truth is, it's never that easy after you've spent time getting to know someone. You let them into some of the most deepest and darkest moments of you life, only to find out you're sharing them with someone else. Yeah. That. At some point, all of us have been in this situation and it was either hard to get out of it, harder to let go, or just easier to stay involved. Each woman chose one of those options, and it wasn't easy.

(So, can you blame Sza, for the 'The Weekend' song? Hell, she wrote that because out of the three decisions aforementioned, it's obvious what her choice was. She chose to share.)

See, she thought he was perfect. But he wasn't just 'perfect' for her, he was 'perfect' for his girlfriend too. At least his girlfriend thought he was.

Here's 'HER' story.

Bad breakup. She accepted it though. It took her a while, but when she was at peace with herself, she loved herself the most. More than any man could have ever loved her in the past or in the future, and at that point she decided she was ready to at least converse with a man again. She could use the company. Right? Couldn't all of us use some testosterone at some time or another? Yeah.

In her past, she was always the one to let the man find her. She thought she'd try something different this time.

There were no butterflies when she was around him. No anxiousness, just a really intense calm. Like looking in the mirror and seeing yourself. So in turn, she thought the situation was again, 'perfect.' Now, when I say she thought he was perfect, I don't mean perfect as in without flaw, none of us are that. I mean perfect as in she'd never experienced anyone like him. He was like a fire being set in the middle of storming rain, like that Adele song. He was everything. His aura was beyond her wildest dreams. His mind, extraordinary. He was thinker, like her. His conversation, the way he carried himself, all that made him even more delicious. He was like a king. She had always been attracted to like-minded creatives, so someone who knew the value of beauty made it all the better. He was just like her and he inspired her. He was conscious and spiritually woke and of a unique, vibrant hue. That's what we all want, and he was it. He encouraged her to create again, to connect to herself again and that was the thing that she had been missing, because the last time she gave a man that chance, he ripped her desires from her like a tornado ripping up a tree from it's roots. So to meet someone who did the complete opposite, oh it was refreshing. And it was safe.

She never could explain the effect he had on her mental, though. They would talk for hours about things that mutually intrigued them. This man was either sent by God, destined for greatness(just like she was), and would be "perfect" for her or he was just a really good liar. If he was a poser, he was the best to ever do it. Because the impression he left on her, slammed her conscious and consumed her state of mind. She had seen this before, but not like this. This was a feeling. A good one, though, strange, but good, and she liked it. The only thing she wanted from him was for him to continue to give that to her. Continue to show her the beauty of a man, because she'd never seen it. She thought she had but that man was bullshit. This man couldn't be bullshit. He just couldn't be. Right?

He made her feel beautiful. He told her that everyday. He appreciated something in her that she had long lost. Something she wanted to find again. He ushered her back into those feelings that she had stashed away, vowing to never feel them again, out of fear. Again, being a mean and bitter bitch was easier. He made her want to know him and she wanted to show him who she was. Truly. What was it about this man? Damn.

So they spent time together and she let him in. Of course, the sex was great. Before they had even took it there, she had imagined it was nothing short of amazing. He took her body to the same place he took her mind. Her friend told her she had finally experienced what some women called, "ecstasy." She really didn't know what the fuck that was anyway, so she dismissed that. All she knew was that she like going there, so she wanted him more often. And as time passed, that same time had had become restricted time.

By now, we know why right? Because her time was not her time. It was borrowed. All those 'feels' he was giving her, he was also giving to someone else. She may have been feeling a different caliber of sensations, but to her those too were 'perfect' feelings. To her, he was also a king. But in reality, his perfection was a figment. He loaned himself out to her. For what purpose? Ladies, we may never know that answer.

Why do men put us in these situations?

Why do they make us feel like they are worthy of our beauty and our time, just to so frivolously waste it?

And so there is Gabrielle Fateful, watching the man that she thought could have been her 'perfect' being so fucking 'perfect' for his girlfriend.

Damn.