BLOG » reader submission: “Cheating; or how I got with the man I was crazy about and completely fucked up my world.”
I will try to make this a fairly quick version of what could be an insanely long story. I was living with my boyfriend of close to 10 years, Derick, when I started to go crazy. Derick was my first serious boyfriend–I lost my virginity to him, and him to me. He was and still is the most patient, loving, amazing guy, the guy that every girl dreams about being with—someone who surprises you with little gifts or handwritten poems—and not just in the beginning of the relationship but all the way through it. But the best thing was that he matched my personality so well. While I was abrasive, had a strong personality, and wanted to be out doing something constantly, he was quiet, super smart, and loved by every single person he met. I didn’t realize that not all guys were like this and I took that for granted.
I knew the first time I saw Hamid that if I was ever to be around him it would be bad news. I looked at him—didn’t even really meet him—and felt this intensity, like I knew we were going to get together. Thankfully he was more a peripheral friend to Derick and I didn’t see him again until after I moved into a house with Derick. Hamid was living in the downstairs apartment. At first it was fine…we hung out, all of us were good friends and part of a larger friend group of about 20 in the area. I’ve always had really great guy friends so it wasn’t a big deal to hang out with him one-on-one. Plus Derick trusted me completely and knew he didn’t have to worry about anything. I worked as the only female at a bar with all frat guys and he didn’t even blink an eye. After a year Hamid moved to a neighboring town. I didn’t see him as much as before, but we all still hung out every weekend. It continued like that for close to three years or so. Hamid and I would hang out just the two of us—go swimming or eat. Nothing out of the ordinary for any two friends to do but I started to want more.
If you had asked me to describe my physical preference for a guy it would be Hamid. He was 6’3”, dark hair, dark eyes, extremely athletic with a thin toned body. He had these amazingly beautiful eyes that felt like he could see right through me. He was also like this much admired figure to our friends that he went to school with. It also didn’t hurt that he hadn’t dated anyone since high school which was 8 years prior. I thought it was kind of hot…like a challenge with a fucking great prize. He could do no wrong. He was Mr. Popular in high school, and now he was Mr. Popular in his personal and work life. Girls threw themselves at him, girls at work created a “we think Hamid is hot” fan club, but he never went for any of it. It seemed like he was just shy or nervous and waiting for the right person. I wanted to be that person.
And then it got bad. I began to have that before-mentioned breakdown. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I started talking to him more via text, and IM, which made it worse. I started to get so emotional it was scary. I’d be a mess if he didn’t come down over the weekend. I’d worry about girls that he may be interested in at his work. I didn’t live in the same town so I had no idea what he did during the week or who he was with. I started to become a violent mess. One night I came home to Derick and a group of our friends and I proceeded to yell and cry, throwing a chair in the process. After everyone left I threw our Christmas tree across the room and pushed Derick down. It was horrible. I felt awful to treat Derick like that, but I felt so out of control. Who the fuck acts like that? I was embarrassing myself and I hated having to send texts to friends the next day apologizing for being a crazy bitch.
I decided the only way it would end is if I told Hamid how I felt. It was so scary. It was right after Christmas 2008. I had figured I was going to be moving away that summer anyway so I may as well tell him so then I wouldn’t have too long to feel pathetic and embarrassed before I was away from him. I called him while I was out at dinner with some girl friends. We talked and made plans to meet and work out whatever needed to be worked out. We met that weekend at this great Italian restaurant and decided that since we were both interested in each other we should give it a try before I left. It was strange—I know—who goes out and has a business meeting about how they are going to cheat together and keep it a secret from all of our friends, but we did.
The next time I went over to see him we had sex. I left and I was so freaked out about what I had done. He texted me and asked if I was okay—he didn’t want me to run away. I didn’t, and I didn’t move away that summer either. We carried on our secret relationship right in front of all of our friends for five months before Derick found out. He got on my email and read IM’s between Hamid and I. Needless to say it was extremely horrible. I felt like the worst person, and although I had felt guilty the whole time it was going on it wasn’t anything like the guilt after seeing Derick so hurt. Some people may wonder how this was going on and he had no idea, but like I said before, Derick had no reason not to trust me and he loved me and didn’t believe I could be so heartless. He told me that if I promised never to see Hamid again that he would stay with me and it would be ok. I told him I couldn’t do that.
Derick moved out—he never told our friends the real reason for our break-up, but it didn’t matter. All of our mutual friends stopped talking to me. They told me that after we broke up they saw Derick first so they felt they should be on his side. I didn’t understand. I’m an extremely loyal friend and it made no sense that you couldn’t remain friends with both parties. It really fucked me up. More than anyone really understood. I felt so guilty, worried, paranoid that now I deserved that I deserved horrible things to happen to me they would, and I felt hurt and abandoned by people who I had spent years with, people who I thought cared about me. Derick was so nice and gentle to me about it as well which made my guilt so much worse.
I moved to the same town as Hamid and things just went along. I became more bitter and worried. My guilt and anger at myself would seep out of me and I would cry and break down or get angry. When we were first together Hamid was like a mystery. He never showed much emotion, but I believed I was the person that could open him up, make him feel safe enough to show me his feelings. I convinced myself that underneath his stoic exterior he was really so sweet and loving. He would tell me things about himself—secrets, fears, sad events, his dreams, passions, and what he loved. He told me how he was scared of me leaving him, me getting bored with being around him, and then he just….stopped. I don’t know if it was just a plateau or if I had come to see that Hamid didn’t have the ability to really love someone. He couldn’t understand feelings or emotions. He didn’t understand that not getting anything for my birthday—not even a card, was a shitty thing. He thought that he was being sensible. He told me I was insatiable, couldn’t be happy, always had to find something to be upset about. He said we were both difficult people for others to date. That he and I were hard people to love.
We both applied to law school, he would be in Dallas at SMU, and I would be in Tucson at the University of Arizona. I was reluctant, but Hamid wanted us to do the long distance thing. Then all of a sudden he ended up getting a job in Austin. He decided he would rather do that and within a month he had moved there. I was heartbroken. I was finally left completely alone. I was scared, friendless, constantly sad and worried, while he was happy to be living in the town he always wanted to—with friends, people that he knew through work. I was willing to do whatever needed to be done to make him happy. I would drive there at the drop of a dime if he asked me to. In July, before I moved to Tucson, I went to stay with him for two weeks. It was so amazing. All of my fears and worries disappeared. Seeing him and seeing how happy he was to see me made me realize that the distance wasn’t a problem—in fact it made our time together so fulfilling and perfect. I spent the fourth of July there and we watched fireworks, I was there for his birthday and we went to every place that he wanted to try in Austin but didn’t have someone to go with. It honestly felt magical. He cried when I left.
Then I moved to Tucson and Hamid casually broke up with me. He told me he loved me, he wished he could lead two separate lives so I could still be with him, he wished he could put me under his bed in a box and do his own thing and then take me out when he was done, but he wanted to be alone in Austin. I was shell-shocked. I had moved by myself to Tucson. I didn’t know a single person here, had never even visited before, and I had already lost a whole group of friends, and a 10 year relationship with someone who actually loved me all so Hamid could build up his ego before going to find someone better in a better town.
He visited me in October and it was like nothing changed. Things were good, he was happy to be with me, he was sweet and loving. When I dropped him off at the airport he was crying so hard I had to go to the cell lot so he could let it out and compose himself before walking in. He told me he loved me, he missed me so much, he needed to see me again, he promised we would see each other again. We never did.
It’s been about a year-and-a half since I last saw Hamid, longer since he broke up with me, and even long since he left me alone and moved to Austin. I’ve never recovered. I can’t forget any of it. I constantly replay every situation, every memory in my mind. Almost everything I hear or see relates back to Hamid in some way. It’s fucking horrible. I can’t get my brain to turn that off. I understand why auditory schizophrenics kill themselves. . For awhile I couldn’t eat and I dropped down to 95 pounds. I would cut myself, started pulling out hair, and got so close to killing myself that I wrote out a will and my last wishes. I’ve done therapy, taken different medications, gone on dates, and focused on school or friends. Nothing has helped. I have never found anyone that I have been seriously attracted to, or even attracted to enough to have a slight crush. No butterflies in my stomach, no “I can’t wait until tomorrow” feelings, nothing to make me excited to go to bed so I could come up with dream scenarios. I’m not really sure if I’m ever going to be able to find someone else.
Derick has been with his new girlfriend now for almost two years and they live together. Hamid is extremely happy in Austin and dating a girl about five years younger—an interior designer who he tells all the same secrets and insights to, and he plays the same songs that he said were ours to, and I’m a fucked up, broken mess. I still cry weekly, I still have dreams about hamid and I wake up crying. I’m obsessive, and I can’t be alone for very long or I start to get so upset. I hate myself for being so stupid. I feel ugly and like a loser…I wasn’t good enough or worthwhile enough for Hamid to stay with me even though he “loved” me. I feel like a failure. How is everyone else so fucking happy? How did they move on? I am not happy here, but I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t have a home anymore or a happy place. Everywhere is filled with memories.
I know that if I went back in time I wouldn’t change being with Hamid. I know that I felt stuck and scared of only being with one person, and I know that I needed to be with someone else to understand that. But I’ve destroyed my life and I can’t fix that. I have been with the most amazing, loving man, and I’ve been with the most attractive, desirable man. How can anyone top that? I’ve never wanted to feel pathetic or like a loser. I’ve never wanted to look like a failure. It hurts to know that people were happy when Hamid broke up with me, that people are happy now, that even after telling people how upset I was/am they still don’t care. I realize that I will never be fixed. I have given up on hoping for those memories to go away and a new start. I still hurt myself and most days I’m not happy to be alive. It feels good to get this out there and share it with someone…and while it seems super depressing and melodramatic it’s the truth and it’s fucking real. Not everyone wins or makes it out alive. I know there are other people who have hurt this much, are hurting this much, or will one day hurt this much, and it’s fucking terrible to feel so alone. I wanted to share this so that other people know they aren’t alone in feeling like this. I share these feelings and desires with you. I hope you find love and happiness. I hope my story resonates with someone or at least makes you think about what you really want out of life. Thanks for letting me share this part of my life with you and letting me totally vent. XOXOXO
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