I Messed Up

A Story about How I’m Struggling to Keep the One I Love

Lemme start by saying the number one rule for after a breakup is: don’t act too quickly. This is going to be so raw and horrible. Don’t judge me too quickly, though.

Many times I’ve been unable to control my anger and broken-hearted feelings, but I would’ve never thought I would’ve came so far to cross the line. Twice I broke the sacred rule for a man and his best friend. 

Bro-code: Never sleep with your bro’s ex (unless given permission, I presume).

But lemme give you the full details of the timeline that happened.

The love of my life and I had broken up for about the twentieth time (not literally, but that’s definitely what it felt like). Mind you, he was very indecisive about staying with me because of the past I had. Women in this society are taught to be very pure and basically can’t do whatever they want with their vagina. So of course many women have lied about their “number.”

At the beginning of our relationship, I was ashamed because of this rule on women. Instead of telling him he was my fifth, I said he was my third. Once I admitted to lying about that, all the trust, of course, was like a cracked mirror. Here, I claimed the “liar” title to him, and so much started to happen. He even ended up cheating on me twice (Now we aren’t going to focus on that because I forgave him, and for many reasons, but love truly conquered all in this).

But it was a constant battle with his mind and heart, and a boy at the age of 18 does not really know what he wants yet, which is what caused him to constantly be on and off with me. For a girl, however, or anyone rather, a constant on and off can be so confusing and hurtful to the heart. You start to want to use others to try to get over the fact you’re hurt and still want your ex, but they don’t want you. Sex comes into play, and now I know many of you would say “oh so you basically whored around” and any other girl would just defend themselves, but some might even just say “yep, that’s exactly what I did.” And that IS exactly what I did.

And I only say this because many, MANY men would agree it was a hoe thing to do. This is how they see it, even if it was just one other person you slept with. To sleep with any other man after a breakup means a lot more to them than you realize. Especially if you’ve told them you loved them so much. But somehow, society makes it okay for men to do this. As women, we usually are so much more forgiving and strong enough to let it go, because we simply know when we are broken up, we are broken up!

So yeah. I slept with another guy after our breakups. Not a whole bunch of different guys, it was one guy in particular, and he hated this guy so much—mainly because that guy was the one who told me he had cheated on me. But after three years of constant on and off, that guy was soon forgotten about.

Come into play the “twentieth time” we broke up. I had enough of it. I went to my friend’s house who he [my ex at the time] was also friends with, I got extremely drunk (yes, that’s no excuse, but you’d understand when your mind is not at all with you), and ended up kissing the guy. Now I didn’t want anything more to happen, but when someone throws their self at you and you are in the mood, you’ll eventually try to lead it further. Sex happened, but not quite the way anyone would want. It was a complete drunken mess for me. I ended up crying in the middle of it. I missed my ex, I wanted to love him, I wanted his touch, his voice, his scent, but this is not even the worst part of the story.

Five days later, my ex called me. He wanted to talk and so did I, but the friend I slept with agreed with me we will never speak about it to anyone. So I didn’t tell him about what happened. But he asked. He asked the most intrusive question to anyone that’s in a breakup doesn’t want to admit if they still want to keep the one they actually love. “Did you sleep with anyone?” And I pulled the courage out of my ass and threw it away to reply with “no.” And we ended up getting back together.

Now let’s fast forward to seven months later. My boyfriend walked into my job unexpectedly and he had a question for me, and instantly I knew it was about what happened seven months prior. HOW?! HOW DID HE FIND OUT?! The question screamed in my head. 

He asked it, “Did you sleep with him?” No more lies. 

I uttered the one word that I knew would end it all. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The words ran through my body, tore my insides apart. I knew how horrible he felt. He didn’t know how horrible I felt. This awful secret I kept from him, for my own selfish feelings of wanting him to stay with me.

“I don’t know. You were so upset, I didn’t want to make you mor—”

In so much rage, he grabbed my glasses from my face and broke them into four pieces. My job had cameras at every angle of the store. Instantly, my heart shattered. I watched him turn around and walk away while I tried to comprehend what just happened.

“Why would you do that?!” My voice cracked.

He stopped at the door and hesitated to leave, and then continued to walk out.

I broke down crying in disbelief. I was hurt, angry, upset. So many negative feelings flowing through my body. I went to the back of the store and cried so much. I was the only person working that day. My boss called. “What just happened?! Are you okay?! Yes ,hello! My employee has just been violated.”

She was on the phone with the police. 

“No... NO!!! No police!!” I started to panic. I stumbled on every word I tried to get out. She ignored me and continued to give the address of my job. Once they came, I couldn’t do anything. My boss came running in. Showed them the clip of what had went down.

Now I know it’s crazy to love someone so much, but despite what happened, I still loved him so much. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. So when they asked me “Do you want us to arrest him,” I said “no, I just want my glasses paid for.” They were $500 and my dad had bought them for me. I knew he’d be pissed once he found out what happened. So that’s the only reason I wanted them paid for.

But since he and I had dated for four years, after I had to give them all the information about our relationship, they called me two days later saying they took him in. I was so upset about this.

“Why?! Can you guys let him go?! I didn’t want them to arrest him!!”

“Sorry ma’am, this is considered domestic violence based off your relationship with him. We had to put an order of protection on him.”

The words shook me, but I was still hurt from what had happened. They told me six months. That meant by November we’d be able to contact each other.

Three weeks later. Now this is where shit goes down. Again. Drunk as ever. I thought hey, lemme stop by his best friend’s house, I want to get high.

We got high, still drunk as ever, as well. I didn’t want to do anything, but being that I was drunk, all my emotions started to come to me. His best friend started to come onto me and I thought woah no, this shouldn’t happen, but then my emotions took a turn real quick:

Why didn’t he just leave? Why did he have to break my glasses? He probably hates me!! He probably doesn’t care about me. Well I don’t care either. This is his best friend. This is my vengeance. He doesn’t care about me so I don’t either. I hate myself, I hate everything about myself. SO LET HIM HATE ME MORE. FUCK IT.

And it happened.

One of the many sacred bro-codes was broken. Do. Not. Sleep. With. Your. Bro’s. Ex.

And it happened again a week later.

My high thoughts at the time were: I feel bad to say no. I don’t want this, but I feel bad. It made no sense, but not being sober, it seemed to make sense at the time.

Everyone wants to be liked, and I love to be a likable person. And in that moment I thought being a likable person meant to just go with the flow, let everyone be happy. If I denied him, it’d probably hurt his feelings. High thoughts. The most irrational thing I EVER thought while being high.

I didn’t think it mattered anymore because the one person I cared about the most hated me. Or so I thought. But I never hated him. I still loved him. I still loved him soooooo much.

About four months later I found myself in a similar situation with the same “best friend,” except this time I was completely sober and aware of what was happening.

Sometimes over-sharing information with a guy isn’t the brightest idea if you have no means of having any feelings for them. I overshared with him that I was going to have a Brazilian wax [entire vagina waxed] because I was prepping to have sex with this guy I had been talking to over the summer. I took my ex’s best friend as my own friend, talking about people I met and a guy that I was friends with benefits with. The sex we had was meaningless, so I thought I could just pretend like it never happened and just be friends.

Silly, silly girl I was. I went to his house to buy some marijuana and he was allegedly still tipsy from the night before. I did see a couple of empty Four Loko cans in his room. Mind you, I was completely sober. After getting my weed, I proceeded to exit and he grabbed my wrist. “You’re going to do me like that?”

I was confused, but aware it seemed like he wanted something sexual from me. But I asked anyway.

“What do you mean?”

He tried to pull me in for a kiss and I pulled my head back.

“Woah, uhh, I don’t wanna do anything...”

I awkwardly pulled my hand away and tried to walk out, but he stepped in front of me, “How you going to tell me you waxed yourself and expect nothing to happen?”

I replied with a sheepish voice, “You’re still drunk, I think...you’re still drunk...”

He pulled me in to try and kiss me and I said with a cracked voice “Noo!!” And pushed my hand to his face. He let go and moved aside.

I awkwardly let out a small little “Sorry” and left.

By the time I got to the train station, he texted me, “Sorry about that, you’re right I am still drunk.”

I replied “It’s OK” and from then on I knew I couldn’t be around him, at least not alone.

Two months later. It was November. The order of protection was done. At least that’s what I thought.

My ex didn’t call. Didn’t text. I was sure he hated me. I asked everyone “should I text him?” Everyone told me not to. Everyone told me it was a bad idea. His best friend even made it seem like he hated me, but no one knew I had a love deep inside of me for him still. I had so many dreams of him. I called him a couple of times to see if he had blocked me still. Still blocked. I checked his Instagram to see if I was still blocked. Still blocked. I wanted to see him. I wanted to tell him I didn’t call the police on him, nor did I ever wish for him to be arrested, but I was still blocked. I even made a fake Instagram to check his Instagram to see how he was doing. If he had a new girl. If his life was great. I almost texted him from the texting app. “Can I talk to you?” But I stopped myself. Everyone told me not to, and I sadly listened.

Fast forward. Seven months later. I didn’t think it’d ever happen. I thought my ex hated me. HATED me. And he thought I hated him, too.

I was riding the train with my sister, and I got an Instagram DM from him. “Hey, can I talk to you, punk?”

Punk. He always called me that. Never in a bad way, but every bone in my body shook with anxiousness as I waited for the train to get to a stop where I’d have service to answer back. I showed my sister, the excitement in me couldn’t be hidden. I screen shot it and instantly showed my best friend.

“Hey, what’s up?” I answered. Be as nonchalant as possible I thought to myself.

He explained to me the order of protection was actually for an entire year on his end. That it was lifted yesterday. I was shocked. He waited for it to be lifted to message me.

The conversation from there sparked us back into talking. Four days later, we saw each other for the first time. It had been 406 days since we last saw each other, and all the love I remembered having for him instantly flowed back in. His scent flowed into me as we hugged and I just couldn’t help but feel so happy and excited to see him.

We met up, became friends, and two months later, he asked for me to be his again, but I couldn’t take what I did to my grave. I always told myself, if he and I were to be together, I can’t take this horrible secret to my grave. I knew what I had to do. I had to tell him. But I stalled for two months already. And he’d already asked me back out. Is it too late?

I knew I HAD to tell him, and he sensed it on me. There was something wrong. Why was I acting sooo weird every time he mentioned his best friend? He could read me so easily. And then one question I was afraid of him asking.

“Is there something I need to know?”

I told him. And I waited. I cried because I thought he’d leave me. I thought that was it. I ruined us. But he stayed. He said “unfortunately, I lost a best friend.”

But it wasn’t over. I got passed telling him, but we weren’t done with his feelings now. He tried his best to suppress them, but a few drunken nights for him ended with him breaking up with me and getting back with me in the morning. He was again battling his emotions, but this time it was his heart versus his mind. I know what I did was beyond shitty. I know it. And even though it happened while we were broken up, over a year and a half ago, it still hurt him. It was fresh in his mind.

I love him so much, and he didn’t believe it. He felt like the lowest thing I could’ve done was done, and that I couldn’t possibly love him as much as he loved me. He expressed to me how much he loved me, and how he thought of me every day throughout the year we had never spoken or seen each other, even when he tried to go on dates with other girls. He said he never wanted to be with someone unless he knew he loved them as much as he loved me, and he didn’t find that in anyone. He wanted to speak to me first to see how he felt and he said he knew he wanted to be with me once he did.

And this one shitty mistake of my past, here to haunt me, just kept messing us up.

This ONE thing was the only thing in the way of our happiness. It came to the point where I was just too unsure about if we’d ever work out. It really messed up what we would’ve had. We would’ve been perfect.

Things haven’t ended, and I’m hoping the best for us. I’m hoping for him to be able to let it go. And he’s told me that’s what he wants. Things have calmed down. We’ve been on a smooth road for a good while now.

But this was a huge lesson learned for me. No matter how angry or hurt, never ever ever act too quickly on those emotions. Take a breather. Be alone for a while. You might think you need vengeance, but vengeance never helped anyone. It only destroys each other. You might think going into bed with someone else can help distract you from reality, but it comes right back to you. Whether it’s regret, or karma, it can truly destroy what you have. You might not think about your future feelings, but you truly never know what’ll happen in the future. Your feelings can, and most likely will, be different. Never act on your now feelings.

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I Messed Up