unwelcome thoughts...

There are times when living in a big city is awesome.

But then you are standing at your front desk and turn around and an old friend who lives in a different   state is checking in and you think "oh jesus, what a small town."

That happened this week...and Chicago resumed feeling like a small town for me. A small town with big dreams. 

But I ran into another friend, whom I actually know through Smash and we got to talking and naturally after awhile it came up...

"what happened with you guys?" 

where do you start with that loaded question? 

I've tried to be careful with the truth...or maybe not...Considering the first three people I called upon finding the craigslist posting and the lovely "non-face" pictures... were his sister in law, his best friends wife and one of his close girlfriends, all of whom are also very good friends of mine.

I needed to process this with someone who loved him first. And from there, I haven't been too shy with the truth. But i have been careful. 

It's been more than a month since the last time we talked and it's sort of with a degree of humor that the last thing Smash will ever say to me is "you're impossible"...game. set. match.

I alluded to a backstory and mentioned that there were a lot of trust issues. They seemed to pick up what I was putting down. 

They started telling me what they had heard. About how I wasn't supportive. How I didn't back him, I never complimented him, made him feel like I didn't care. 

Wait a second, I thought, we're talking about how he felt, not how I felt? 

But apparently that is what was said. 

It's a bad habit, but whenever someone tells me something that I know so obviously to be false, I can't stop talking. I will literally run you over with words. 

I was unsupportive? ME? Who took care of everything at home and kept the bills paid and made the house a home? 

I never complimented him? I went out of my way to acknowledge his brilliance. For all the times he came to me and told me how he was afraid that the latest boss and he were not not getting along and that he was going to loose his job, it was ME who assured him that he was a brilliant lighting director.  ME who told him any act would be lucky to have him. It was ME who helped him create plans for learning a new desk. It was me who would remember how concerned he was and try to remind him that he knew what he was doing, he just needed to take a deep breath and do it. "Relax." I'd say, "you're great at this" I'd say. Literally hundreds of text messages over the years just to convince him of something that is actually true. (really. my anger at him does not detract from the fact that i DO know he's a great LD and a hell of a guitar player. I was hurt...but I won't lie.) 

I begged him to show me more about his music. I wanted to write a song together. I gave him the entire back room of our house for his music. I was unsupportive? 

I would wake up in the middle of the night and be unable to sleep and i'd roll over and rub his head, rub his shoulders, scratch his back...he used to LOVE head rubs...he'd moan in his sleep...I'm sure he still does. I used to rub his head and get his sticky hair paste in my nails. I never minded really. I liked that he was happy and feeling better. But damn, I used to do that for hours. 

I don't know why it bothered me so much, to have this conversation. I mean, if the only way that he could justify all his actions is by saying I was a terrible person...but it BOTHERS me. 

When we were first dating and in that point where you talk all the time about anything, he said once, "there's been so much to take care of, i just sort of need someone to take care of me."

I think i took that to heart. 

i fucking rubbed the shit out of your head, complimented you until I was blue in the face. I used to leave you love notes in your wallet and your passport when you were going out of the country. Get up early before I went to work and make you lunch when you were working in town. Go to the grocery and make you one of your favorite meals when you were coming home from being gone. I taught you to cook, we cooked together. I worked so hard each holiday to find that one thing that would e special. I sent you your Chicago favorites (Deep Dish Pizza and Italian Beef) when you were still in LA and missed those things.

When you needed to call the LA courts to reschedule your court date for doing something so stupid as  throwing a cigarette out the window in a drought...and you were on the other side of the world and couldn't call...who had their best guy friend call and be you? ME. 

I carried you on my health insurance, paid your car insurance bill when you forgot and kept your parents up with your schedule. I did all I could to make your life easier. and for what? 

so you could cheat on me, humiliate me and then lie about it all? 

Why do I care? No idea. Maybe it's because  I shouldered so much burden for so long and in the end, you're still telling people I was a bad person. That  no one supported you or said nice things to you or treated you with care and concern. It gets under my skin because it's so blatantly untrue. It makes me wonder if you are pulling all these same scams on a new girl. Looking at her with those baby blues and hurt puppy dog face. Telling her that no one cares about you and how hard it's been for you. That you have this horrible ex girlfriend who never supported you.

And when that happens, I'm sure she'll believe you, she'll want to fix you...anything to make that hurt little boy look go away. She'll fall for it. Like I did, like the girl before me did...it's not a matter of conjecture. She'll think she's the one who's going to love you the most and love you through those sad sad eyes. And she'll end up so so hurt. 

I was bad, for loving you completely and out loud. I was bad for taking care of you. I was bad for making your friends, my friends and your family, my family. I was bad for giving of myself for you. 

I'll get over you, Smash. I will...and I'll love someone who loves me and doesn't make me second guess myself. 

But in the meantime, you bastard, get your story straight. I loved you with reckless abandon. Openly and out loud. I loved you with my actions and my words. I showered you with love, compliments and head rubs. Don't re-write history.