The Other Side Of The Looking Glass

I have to, as a responsible journalist, point out that I “interviewed” the subject of my tear-stained pillowcases tonight…okay…we had a conversation on Facebook. I decided to “friend” him again. With the new Facebook settings, it’s possible for me to hide anything that is upsetting to me, to subscribe to none or few of his updates, and still share with him updates regarding our children.

Anyway, his side of the story (and he made a point to “swear on the lives of both of [his] children”) is that the tattoos are coincidental, that many people in their group have them as part of a permanent cosplay group.

His side of the story is that he didn’t meet her until after I left, and that it started out as innocent friendly conversation at his store and later at a convention. Maybe his side of the story doesn’t matter or shouldn’t when I’m hurting, but maybe it’s also wrong of me to keep this whole thing one-sided. My friends have enough reasons to hate him (that I didn’t give them).

I still love this man. Damn me for that. He’s moved on and my heart hasn’t and I just had a long crying session with my mother after he said “goodnight” on our Facebook conversation. I have the inner strength to take care of my babies and my bills…I just don’t know how to get over him and our love. Effectively, he was my high-school sweetheart, my first love. You don’t get over that easily. I don’t know what I was to him.

People tell me he likely loves me too, in his own way–like baby mama love.

I have to try to spit the venom out before I talk to him, try to avoid the harsh words to and about him. Someday we’ll both have to answer to our children.

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