Some things take time to create or perfect. Like making the perfect souffle, or growing orchids, or learning a new language, some things just don't happen overnight.
That being said, I really don't think it should have taken 18 months for me to come to the conclusion that the guy I married might really just have been a jerk the whole time.
That's a hard thing to accept. It's even harder when I've been trying my damndest over the last year and a half to figure out what I did wrong, where I failed, why I wasn't enough. This time, making it all about me wasn't about being selfish. It was about not having to come to terms with the fact that I settled. I settled for so much less than I deserved.
Don't get me wrong, he is a wonderful guy. But when you get past the guy he wanted to be in order to make a life with me work, you have to then realize there's not much left. You have to accept the fact that if his lips are moving, he's probably lying. You have to acknowledge the fact that when my paycheck stopped coming in, he stopped wanting me. You have to cope with his incessent need to be whatever his latest lady love wants him to be.
It makes me sad, because I gave him the best years of my life...because with him I believed in stuff I'm not sure I can believe in again...because I'm not sure lightening can strike twice...because in some ways it seems like the past eight years were little more than an exercise in teaching me that the bad stuff is easier to believe for a reason.
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