There’s a part of myself that clashes the norm of feminism, which is neglecting the fact that I was once a part of a confusing threesome between my longtime boyfriend and a third person accidentally involved in our relationship. I was bitter, to say the least. For a whole three-years, I refused to let that fact go. I don’t get “what’s past is past” but I still wanted him around.
I was waiting for something (or maybe someone) to come along and rescue me from my bitterness in those years. I figured, at least if there’s another guy wanted me, it would be even. I would finally be able to comprehend what was happening in his mind when he allowed himself around another woman. If only there was another guy would fight for me even though I’m with someone already, then everything would make more senses.
It didn’t happen.
I settled my feelings and I tamed myself. Stop wishing for something that’s nearly impossible. I didn’t have the strength to walk away, so I did not. It was love I didn’t want to toss away. We’re back together and I was bitter for a while, until I got myself together and fought back the haunting feelings. It still brought me nightmares back then, but I decided I had enough. We had enough. He suffered enough to win me back.
I began to normalize the cheating. First, it wasn’t exactly cheating on his end. I tried to go on with the notion that he was done with me. I was the one who refused to be done with us, and when he was done, he moved on to someone new, who happened to be there when our relationship was at its frailest. So, it wasn’t cheating. I wasn’t cheated on. He gave up on me, once, and it’s because he grew weary at my nagging, not because of the other girl. Only he was having a hard time to let me go too that I began to think that I was cheated on. He moved on yet he still wanted me around. Do you realize how crazy I’m read now? Are our story finally normalized?
Second of all, it was up to me how I would view it. Up until today, it doesn’t get any easier. Only I grew better than my petty self, I can feel so. I didn’t flinch from pain anytime her name came up, and slowly, she is diminished from my reality. Every now and then, flashbacks would occur, but I’m fine. Besides, it’s been 6 years after that.
However, a deep conversation about my position in between his attempts to moving on back then recently emerged. And it was so fresh and was only triggered by a single question “Have you ever stopped loving me?” He shook his head in affirmation, but I was not buying it. So, I drilled the land mine, and just like that I was stared by my kind of death, one that I was so sure I had managed to get over. It was a hard two-days of thinking back and forth, swayed by doubts and feelings. Plus, his reaction was no help. I didn’t get what I needed; which was him admitting that he did loved the girl even if it was only for a short period of time because she ran before his feeling could grow any deeper.
Normalizing cheating for me is a new decision that I made when I can’t put a stop to thoughts that I know will eat us up in despair and an eventual doom. Instead of thinking our story has eight years to be proud of, I subtract it to six years. The two years before the event took place was to be forgotten. He might be mad that I’m doing this, but right now I can’t think of anything else to help me cope. It was the same person, and I would do it all over again if there’s a chance, with the same person, and with the better version of myself. I’m thankful for the learning process, but it’s easier to think of how young and stupid I was and he was, and that I’m now with a far mature person. It was a second relationship that I had. We’re a six-year old couple, not eight, and that’s how I want to know it all.