Wish I could hit the treadmill.
“I hate you I love you.
I hate that I I love you.
Don’t want to, but I can’t put nobody else above you.
I want you, you want her, you need her and I will never be her.”
When other relationships ended I would beat my body up on the treadmill. It felt great to hit the belt with my new black Asics while listening to music really loud and watching Grey’s Anatomy. I would work my way up to 3 miles in 40 mins. Not great timing, but at least I could run 3 miles. Sweat would pour down, my face beety blotches of red, hitting the treadmill with my flat feet, pound, pound, pound, mixed with the sheesh of the belt, fight back the emotion.
Check the time, another 10 mins. gone. Ok. Slow down for 2 minutes. Speed back up and make the next mile in 12.
God I loved it.
I did that the whole summer of 2014 when I first found out about her. I would go to the gym twice a day. Swim laps in the morning and run in the evening. He made fun of me after I lost 27 pounds and said, “I should have told you about Jennifer sooner.” Asshole.
We didn’t talk for a month after and then I showed up Halloween night. The first time I ever showed up unannounced. He came outside and tried to have me on his car. I told him it’s cold and his neighbors could see. We went inside, I met his friend Paolo, we went upstairs and I spent the weekend at his place. She was two months at the time.
To be fair I don’t consider myself a homewrecker. I was with him for a year and a half before she entered my life. -Under the impression we were exclusive. He spent the holidays with me and my daughter except for Valentine’s day. He spent that weekend with us, but didn’t show up until the 15th. I would stay on the phone with him until he slept daily. He would call several times a day. I would get a morning call, a call during my breaks. We had a relationship. I loved him so much then and I still love him now.
She was with someone else. She says that he was with her all the time, but there’s just no way that is possible. We spoke too much for him to have been with her. I saw him on the weekends. Not every weekend, though. There were breaks when he was “traveling” for work. Those weekends he was with her and his son. January 2014 I heard her voice for the first time while he was in “Boston”. He was in the background saying, “Is that mommy?” I called him several times, no answer. The next day he called and told me he was staying at a friend’s house in “Boston” and they have a kid. I saw him that February and then two months went by. I didn’t see him again until May and spent every weekend with him. He told me then that I should move on and start dating. The next weekend she called me. I was devastated. Sunk into a pit of depression, fought back with running.
Then I discovered she was with another person. He showed me pictures and texts of her with someone else. She sent me photos of them together. His son. It was back and forth that whole summer. Anyone else would have left and I didn’t. I stayed. I told her I was expecting one night when she called to ask if he was still with me. She was screaming, “Are you still fucking him.” I didn’t know what to say. I shook with confusion and anger. I told her, “I’m pregnant.” I wanted to be. I wanted to have his child and that family. I was 31, my clock ticking, knowing I will never be married or loved.
Then August came around. He called me.
“We have to stop seeing eachother. Jennifer is pregnant.”
“No. It’s not. It’s Brett’s”
“So why do we have to stop seeing eachother?”
“I just want to have both of you out of my life…I…I just want to move on from all of it.”
I spoke to her. She didn’t know who the father was. I didn’t let go. He and I texted back and forth. I cried. I wanted him back. I didn’t want to lose him. He wanted me gone. I looked her up. She was still with the other guy. His page was all about her, and the boy. The boy even had his last name. I justified pursuing someone who didn’t love me armed with that information. I year went by with monthly drama. May 2015 came around. She was due and he was with me the entire month. I saw him more now that I had ever before. Things were back to normal before I knew of her. I thought she was out of our lives. Then the pregnancy test came.
He left me.
She decided she finally wanted a family with him. They were going to be a family. I was never first, but he would have stayed with me if she
-I would have been good enough. I was loyal. I was there. I wanted to give him the family he didn’t have. The unconditional love and respect. It just wasn’t enough. He never loved me. I spent the summer listening to him rampage obscenities on the phone. Calling me every name imaginable. Screaming at me, demanding I die, abort or give her up. All he wanted was for me to be out of his life, gone. He didn’t care how it happened just that it happened. On the other end was her taunting me. Telling me about how he would call her and tell her he loves her. Telling me that he’d put his head on her belly and would talk to the baby that maybe he’d come around and do that for me.
Pain, pain and more pain. Overtime, I got desensitized to it, buried it and continued to pursue. We’d connect and disconnect, months of doing this and now here I am. December, 8 months.
I can’t really run anymore, but God, today I wish I could.