The Relapse (Triangle: Part 4)

I titled this one The Relapse because humans can be drugs, too. Maybe even more addicting than substances at times. It might be something about the person, the way they make you feel, or something. I had gotten him completely out of my system. Or so I thought.

Nearly two years later, after he left Vegas for a job in another country, Triangle and I started talking via Facebook Messenger again. At first it was mere pleasantries. How are you? How are the kids? Where did you end up? Things like that.

He was living in Tucson, Arizona, not terribly far away. He had completed his degree and was moving in the direction he desired in his career. I was genuinely happy for him. As our conversations began to grow more in depth and personal, he admitted he was still with his son’s mother. He proceeded to tell me how they were fighting all the time and were definitely “done” once their lease was up.

I think he wanted me to fall back into the same role I took on before. I just listened. He asked me how all of that sounded and would I consider… I didn’t even let him finish. I simply told him it all sounded familiar. Incredibly familiar.

Against my better judgment, we did keep talking. It was nice to feel like someone cared how my day was. I missed the fantasy of him; of us. I knew at that point that’s all it was, though.

A couple of months into being chatting buddies he informed me that he was in Phoenix for a three-day weekend for work and would love to see me. Since my brother and nephew are there, I figured it was worth a trip. If things didn’t pan out, I’d spend the weekend with family. If they did, I’d spend the days with my family and the evenings and nights with him.

It was Friday afternoon, so I packed a quick bag, jumped on my motorcycle, and rode the four-ish hours to Phoenix. It was a last minute trip, but I was a bit excited to see him. He seemed pretty excited to see me, as well. We caught up and spent the night together.

We actually spent three nights together. It seemed comfortable, like we hadn’t been apart for more than two years. We laughed, we joked, we cuddled, and we enjoyed each other like we did when we fell for each other.

Honestly, I’m not sure what I was really expecting. Perhaps I just wanted to feel wanted. I don’t think I expected much out of it. I figured maybe we’d link up when he had a weekend away. I definitely didn’t think they were really splitting up or he’d be “mine” so to speak. (I don’t believe humans can belong to other humans. We are not items to possess.) I realize I enjoyed the fantasy of him far more than the reality, but he was fun.

I didn’t expect what happened, though. I should have; I definitely should have.

I got home Monday evening feeling good. I had a great weekend and looked forward to linking up with him again. We were definitely highly sexually compatible. I sent him a message to let him know I was home. I also told him that I enjoyed myself and wished we had more time to enjoy each other.

I saw the little bubble of his face move down next to my message indicating he had read it. I took a shower, not thinking much of the lack of a reply.

My phone dinged, alerting me that someone I was not friends with was trying to send me a message. If you’re not Facebook friends, and haven’t accepted communication from the person on FB Messenger it won’t let the messages pollute your inbox. That little area can be hard to find and I probably would have never even seen the message if it weren’t for that alert that someone was trying to connect with me.

I’m sure it’s no surprise, but it was her. Again.

I’m not mad at her. I can understand how she feels. However, she’s directing her energy towards me, when I’m not the one who violated whatever understanding she had about their situation.

“How the f*ck are you going to f*ck someone who is in a relationship?”

I read the message without accepting her request, so she never even got the confirmation that I saw it. I didn’t want to give her the inclination that I was inviting any kind of dialogue between us. I had nothing to say to her.

I didn’t even respond. Nothing I would have replied with would have been encouraging, respectful, or give her any peace of mind. I wasn’t the one in a relationship. She should have been asking her partner how he could be with someone else.

The thoughts I had included telling her I could say the same. He’d asked me several times if I would move for him. He had told me all the things that I’m sure he also told her. I could have said that I could be the one in the relationship with him if I really chose to be, but then that would just make me her.

I wanted to ask her how nasty she was, since she perceived me to be nasty. I mean, I’m sure she kissed him when he walked through the door after he had kissed me goodbye a couple of hours before. She had no idea where his mouth had been, which it was all over me all weekend.

I also wanted to ask her what the point was of going through his phone every time he came home. Wasn’t she tired of repeating that cycle? I know I wasn’t the only one. So every time he returned home, she’d go through his phone and send messages to the other woman, but forgive him and lay up next to him again? Seemed backwards to me.

My thoughts also drifted toward asking her if she thought that messaging me would make me stop talking to him. Obviously it didn’t work the first time. If anything, that made me want to continue dealing with him even more, just to prove a point. Like, who does this chick think she is messaging me and making demands or insinuations?

I didn’t pursue him. But I could “take” him. I could have him any time. He used to call off of work to come be with me. He snuck around. He made all sorts of changes to his life, just to have a little piece of me.

I could have told her she should actually be thanking me. If nothing else, him having that time and release and peace with me probably saved her from at least one argument or unpleasant conversation. She should have appreciated the pressure that my involvement took off of her and their relationship.

In some ways, I felt kind of bad for her. Obviously this wasn’t the first message she had sent. I don’t even know if she remembered that she had already sent one to me years ago. Something tells me she sends those messages quite often.

My question at that point would have been, why do you even look at his messages? You obviously don’t trust him (I totally see why), but what’s the point if you’re just going to stay and go through the cycle over and over again. Do you really think he’s going to change?

I’m not the problem in your relationship. His infidelity probably isn’t even the problem. There’s usually something deeper, like they just aren’t really ready to be committed or simply don’t want to be committed to each other. However, change is hard. Routine is hard to break. So many people stay together because leaving the relationship seems harder than just staying. Or maybe it’s pride.

I’m not suggesting to just give up on a relationship. I do believe that if both people aren’t honest with themselves and who they really are, honest with who each other is, and both aligned to working towards the same things it isn’t going to be healthy for either partner. At that point, why force it?

At any rate, I did receive a strange message from him after that. He asked if I had ever had a cold sore and told me I was nasty and no one would ever want me. I’m fairly certain that message wasn’t actually from him, or if it was it was heavily influenced by watching eyes. Either way, I didn’t want anything more to do with either of them.

My thoughts toward him were to grow up and get a pair. I mean, I didn’t force him to do anything. He invited me to spend the weekend with him. He was an active participant in our dealings. He constantly insinuated or blatantly expressed wanting more. But then she sees our messages and now he doesn’t have the capacity to stand up and speak his mind? That seemed like a bitch move to me.

I really wanted to tell him to go f*ck himself. I didn’t. By not replying to either one of them, I took a step in the direction of who I desire to be. My thoughts were filled with hostile comments for both of them. But that’s not who I want to be anymore.

With all of that being said, I’d love to tell you that my name is Amy Janece and I have been “sober” for three years and five months. However, I think it’s more accurate to say that I changed my drug of choice.

If I’m being completely honest, he wasn’t even the real drug. He was a distraction from my ever-evolving situationship, my true kryptonite. This is one hell of a habit. 

I have several more stories and escapades to share.