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.