Some Girls Never Learn

10mbf and Louise are speaking again. Apparently he’s treating the situation like it’s not big deal, whereas Louise is heartbroken. It pains me to see her hurting, c’mon I’m not totally heartless, but it’s also kind of sickening that she’s allowing this. I would have just cleaned my wounds and written it off as a learning experience (and I certainly would have gotten an STD test). Not every man is Prince Charming, oh and thanks Disney for making all girls think she’s going to be swept off her feet and live happily ever after…that’s not the case these days. I guess it’s just shocking to me that some people are still this naive when I’m as jaded as I am.
I guess this is the part in my blog that I should open up and let you in on why I’m as jaded as I am. I’ve been cheated on, abused, lied to, the whole nine yards but one instance in particular that makes me the way I am comes from a certain someone we’ll call Artsy McDouchebag. Artsy McDouchebag and I met when I was still in college. He worked as the assistant artistic director for a famous theater on Long Island and I fell head over heels for him from day one. He wasn’t like the other guys I had been involved with; he opened doors, held my hand, and waited until the third date before he even tried to kiss me. Fast forward about 14 months later. I was undergoing various health issues and my endocrinologist (fancy word for thyroid doctor) was testing me for thyroid cancer. I had developed huge lumps in my thyroid and my blood work was coming back fishy each time it was drawn. Artsy McDouchebag was very aware of my current health issues and was as supportive as anyone would expect a boyfriend to be. He came with me to doctor appointments, took me to get blood work done, and held me as I cried. We had talked about getting engaged and about having children and all that good stuff and I felt that this experience was only making us stronger. Apparently, that wasn’t the case. Eventually the stress of everything took a toll on my body and I stopped getting my period. Like any woman would do, I freaked out and took a pregnancy test, which came back positive. I called Artsy McDouchebag and told him about the situation…his response? “Don’t bullshit me” and I heard him hang up. I expected him to be upset and to freak out, but his reaction soon after broke my spirit for a long time to come. I gave him about two days to calm down and I made an appointment with my OBGYN. When I called him to ask him to come to the doctors’ appointment with me, I learned that his cell phone number had changed and that no further information was provided. I then drove to his house to see what the deal was and Mama Artsy McDouchebag informed me that he had moved down to South Carolina to work in a theater there and he is living with his cousin. As it turns out, I wasn’t pregnant and the lumps in my thyroid were concentrated pockets of something called Hashiomoto’s Disease. I haven’t spoken to Artsy McDouchebag in years; in fact he has no idea that isn’t a father. I’ve since realized that I am better off without someone like that in my life but the sting of what happened will always be with me.
After that little therapy session…the question today I pose is this: Have you been hurt by a loved one so severely that it’s jaded you? Are you more cautious when you encounter a similar situation?

That, that, that, that don’t kill me…will only make me stronger.

XOXO - Maine