When You Told Me

You had a smirk on your face. Even though you were saying what you were about to tell me would make me upset. The look on your face was almost akin to pride. I tried to write it off as embarrassment. Sometimes I smile like it’s funny when I have to report something embarrassing.  So you told me with a half grin, just as if you were telling a funny story, how you had lied to me. How when I asked you if you had had sex with The Virgin you had been afraid that I would be upset so you lied. And how once you lied you couldn’t stop because you were afraid you would be in trouble for lying. And you told me how it’s an automatic reaction due to all your past relationships. Is that true? Or did you use it because you know I eat up that psychobabble bullshit?  You had sex with The Virgin and you lied to me about it, hid it from me for a month. Even though I had given you permission to fuck her. Even though we are polyamorous and all I ask is that you tell me when before when sex is planned or after if it is spontaneous. I asked you, “Did we renegotiate that agreement? Because I don’t remember that?” And I asked why so many times. But you couldn’t give me an answer that made sense to me. You kept going back to that one lie. You couldn’t seem to see how the betrayal went so much more beyond that.

I am a person of integrity. Honesty is more than just telling the truth. For me it is an attempt to be authentic with the people I love and not hide myself away. The person I am most authentic with is you. You don’t understand why I am so upset? Put yourself in my shoes.  From the moment you decided not to tell me you had sex with her, you were no longer sharing your authentic self with me. So, for me everything that happened between us from that point forward feels inauthentic. It feels like a lie. You driving me to California and the way we grew so much closer being in that car together. You posting on Facebook that you are in an open relationship with me. You telling me you see yourself with me long term and every sweet thing that you said or did. They are all now tainted by your dishonesty. And your lack of integrity.

You think I should move on and focus on the fact you came clean. You don’t know me as well as I thought you did. Because to me, you didn’t come clean. You weren’t finally honest with me. You just stopped lying. And you shouldn’t have lied in the first place.

What do I do now?

When you told me. I built a wall before the words even came out of your mouth. Because I already know you are a liar and a cheater. You just hadn’t done it to me yet. I hardened myself, so there would be no surprise. But once I let myself feel, I was shocked. I thought you would treat me differently. And I feel like. such. a. fool. I have read so many articles and feeds on polyamory. I know. You cheated on me. You lied to me. And any self-respecting woman would leave you. But I am not like other women. I am not mainstream. Maybe other polyamorous women would leave. But  I am not them. I am me. And my heart won’t let go.

Even as I felt the pain and anger surge up and seep through the cracks in my wall, I knew I wasn’t going to leave. You have hurt me before. You told me you would hurt me again. You asked me to love you enough to stay, even when you fucked up and hurt me. You said you would do the same. I am trying to forgive you. I am trying not to hold on to resentment. I have a red patch on my chin from where I slammed into the dirt on my mountain bike. It’s not going away. When I look at it, I see a mark you left on me. I braved that trail for you and you didn’t prepare me. You let me crash. And you were lying to me then. My love was so great, my submission so pure, that I would risk slamming myself against a hill for you. You couldn’t even be honest with me.

Sir, be patient. My forgiveness is slow.