Mama knows best.

I have known for months now that you had another lover and I suspected it was the same one I caught you with six months ago.

You never stopped seeing her.

She must have been worth more to you than me.

Now she can be the one that worries about your fidelity. She can be the one waiting for the text you can’t lie away or cover up for. She can experience that sickening emotional punch in the gut that comes with the discovery of your betrayal.

I know I must swallow it instead of continuing to pour my guts out in an online diary. But I feel angry and wounded, and this is a safe place to vent.

I’m glad you aren’t reading this because I am at the lowest point in my life thus far and I’m embarrassed and self conscious. I feel embarrassed that I was sharing you with someone else and that you said the same things to her that you said to me. I was not your special lover. I was not your baby. I was just a willing participant in line and cycled through like all the others before me.

SHE is your only baby now.

You can call her that, too, if you don’t already, when you say “nitey nite” in your special way, just like you did to me.

I was aware of her existence because you fucked up previous to this time, accidently sending me texts meant for her and forgetting who you told what. What resulted from that was you telling me things several times to cover your bases.

One night, you told me goodnight and then two hours later, you said goodnight again, but I knew about her LONG before you made THAT mistake. I knew from the past that there had always been texts that made no sense, texts that were out of context, texts that I let you explain away because I would rather believe your lies than believe I meant so little to you.

Last time this happened, I fought a raging battle with my ego. I was repeatedly bitch slapped by my furious pride and I could not wait to prove to you that I was worthy to someone. Beautiful. Desirable. Accepted and loved without conditions.

Instead I got brutally sodomized.

Humiliated.

I was left fearful of disease, only to be chastised by you for possibly contracting “herpes in my ass”, and I took two std tests to keep you safe and to assuage my guilt and shame… so that you would find me clean enough to love again, so you wouldn’t make me feel like being with someone else made me tainted and sick. Untouchable. Like a whore…not “devoted” like you said your wife is. You OWN her useless, rigid body, and she is unsullied by other men. That makes her yours. She is clean and she remains protected. She won’t be put at risk because there is no way she will ask for sex.

She is abhorred by sex. That’s why you’re so empty and why you keep searching for something to soothe the sting her words burn into your skin.

There is no chance you will infect your ice princess. But it’s ok to infect me. That’s your thought process in this clusterfuck of a situation.

I felt sick for betraying you with others, but you didn’t give me the same courtesy.

All along you were exposing me to someone else’s potential disease, Illness, virus, and basically all infectious agents in general including HIV, because you don’t know where she has been and who else she’s sleeping with.

After all, she’s fucking around with your skank ass now isn’t she? So, there are probably more where you came from, knocking on her door for an afternoon quickie, and you can ALL go fuck and swim in your own filthy pond full of cum.

You betrayed me and put my life in danger.

You shattered my illusions of what a man means to a woman. You took away my most prized possession and turned it into a useless piece of defaced currency, as cold as the government that minted it.

You let the woman you married make you feel like less than a man because you’re too afraid to stand up to her, and then you hurt the woman that licks your ass to save face.

I’m angry as hell at you for asking me to stay for 14 years with not only zero intention of ever giving me a shot at a real spot in your life, but with no intention of even letting me be your ONLY extracurricular lover.  With zero fucks given about how I would feel when I found out, you chose to keep up what you claim is no more than a casual relationship, at the expense of losing me.

If I knew that was part of the package, I would have told you to go to hell before you even got me close to the soapy shower stall that you bent me over in to seal our deal.

I pathetically tried to shame you into feeling remorse for hurting me, but if you were capable of remorse you wouldn’t have risked hurting me to begin with.

I can hardly believe you did this again.

And I can hardly believe that you are questioning why I feel that you aren’t sexually attracted to me, so let me break it down for you.

It’s so simple. It won’t take long so listen carefully.

IF you found me sexually attractive, you would not need more stimulation than I could provide you. I would be more than a fetish, more than your dominatrix. I would be your normal, conventional, vanilla lover also… LIKE SHE IS. I would be ENOUGH…enough to fulfill every need and the love and desire you feel for me would blind you to any other woman’s beauty. You are sexually attracted to a few parts of me…not ALL of me.

It seems as if you would reward me for my selflessness. It seems you would reward me for being a lover that cared solely about your pleasure, sometimes over my own.

And how would you reward me? By giving yourself to me, and ONLY me. By being faithful to me, NOT by having other women, all the while expecting me to be open and energetic and giving and confident, despite knowing that. That’s a tall motherfucking order. Find me the woman that can do that so I can get her autograph.

In the end, you sold me out for a woman closer to home and less hassle. In the end, the void Lori created in you makes you crave more acceptance and adoration than I alone can give you.

In the end, you needed MORE than the self admitted “best sex of your life” to keep you from hurting and disrespecting me. In the end, even what you yourself admitted was the best thing you have ever had wasn’t enough to make you trustworthy and grateful.

And most importantly, satisfied.

When I was growing up, I was taught to be satisfied with very little because we HAD so little. If ever I wanted a Barbie doll or some other item that wasn’t in the budget, I was reminded that I had three Barbie dolls at home and that some little girls had none at all. When I got older and more independent, I MET those little girls that didn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of and guess what? I learned real quick that my mama was right, and I was always grateful to get back home to my three not so new Barbie dolls.

I guess nobody ever told you what my mama told me, but somebody should have.

Because then maybe you’d know that the old adage below is still true today.

Always remember…

That someone else is happy,

With less than what you have.