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@milki
pt i
for nearly five years, i was in a relationship with a wonderful person who had been a longtime friend-turned-lover. late last year, we ended things and, as some relationships often flux, got back together several months later. earlier this year, in march, we were in an “off” period but still remained intimate. breakups. in the early spring one day, we met up for drinks. we had a lot of fun. when we first broke up, i was rather indifferent about the whole affair. we both had been pretty unhappy and exhausted toward what would be the first of many ends. but this day, as messy as we ended up getting, had me feeling like we had made a mistake. this was it; this was the person i was to be with. getting him to sleep with me that night took zero effort. the proposal left my lips and within seconds, we were right back to where was most comfortable: in the bed we shared for all these years. it was emotional. i cried (a good cry) the entire time and all we could both say was how much we loved each other, over and over again. as complicated as everything had become, it did somewhat feel like we were on the same page, if only for a moment. the next day, i learned that this person was seeing someone else. he assured me it was casual, but that he definitely didn’t think he and i should try and make things work. i was a mess, admittedly. i felt alone in the overwhelming everything of it all. confusion, hurt, anger, jealousy. but through all this, i did (perhaps it was delusional) think we could eventually make a friendship work. this person was so important to me and i was willing to make any type of connection work if he was. it was hard, and he was distant, but we tried it. sometime in mid-april, i found out i was pregnant. it was a force of emotions culminating in feeling aloft of reality. everything was scary, everything was confusing, nothing was right timing-wise. nothing was right at all. this is not anything close to a situation i wanted anything to do with. we sat and talked for three hours, utterly petrified. i didn’t know what i was going to do but i had to tell him; i couldn’t tell another soul. i had had abortions before and i was, quite frankly, ashamed at my situation. once i told him, everything became as messy as seemed possible. it was not until i revealed this information that this person in turn revealed to me that they were in a full-blown relationship with the person they assured me was just a “casual” dating situation. i should have known better; he has never been single for more than a few months since he was 14 years old. (side note: this always concerned me) somehow, in a matter of weeks, he had met a person and was already planning for them to move in with him. all while still talking to me, having me over for dinner, going to the movies. this of course displaced my headspace even deeper out of any semblance of sense. i felt played and by the one person i never thought was capable of playing me. i gave myself a week to figure out what i wanted to do. after much agony and little sleep, i decided going through with this pregnancy was the final decision. it was terrifying, i was in no way ready, i never wanted to have a child with someone who wasn’t deeply in love with me... but i knew i didn’t want (another) abortion. i had had one for this person before and i regret it to this day. i wasn’t going to do that to myself again. i couldnt. this was an inconvenient choice but i figured: “i have nothing but the greatest support system on this planet. it will be hard, but i’ve done hard; i can do this.” i also knew, somewhere in the turbulent haze, that the other party involved - this person i know better than anyone on this planet - would, in spite of everything, show up to be an incredible, present parent. it was not ideal, but it was settled. maybe “settled” is the wrong word choice. i made the decision quietly, alone, in my home one tuesday evening. i did not know where my skin ended and the air began. the days that followed are absent from memory to this day and i will (perhaps thankfully) likely never get the memory of those days back. the only constant was pain - physical and emotional - and so many tears. someone i was very much still in love with was officially no longer my partner - and here i was, having his child. when i finally told my ex of my decision, it did not go over the best; we were, after all, not together and he had, for all intents and purposes, cheated on someone with me. no part of this situation was anything either of us ever dreamed we’d find ourselves in. i was still in college at this point and had just been fired from a lucrative job. the future, as it was, looked bleak. the residual heartbreak of our uncoiling would be the hurdle before the next: “how the fuck am i going to do this?” it was a wednesday. i told him i was going to go through with the pregnancy as we sat on the couch we bought together - our first big purchase as a couple. i think he thought i would change my mind, or was just saying i would keep it to see how he would react. what he thought would be a five-minute moratorium on our connection turned into twenty and he left in a flurry of tense limbs and stern words. “if you keep it, we are NOT getting back together.” or my personal favorite, “go ahead and trap me and ruin my one chance at being on my own” - confusing, as i thought he was in a relationship and near cohabitation? after that, i couldn’t hear a word he said. i blinked slowly, sitting straight taking all my strength, alien in my own form. my chest deep underwater yet my head high up into space, where the air is so thin. i sat in my apartment staring at the wall, silent. less than an hour later, he called me. manic. “you really want to do this?” “of course not! but the alternative is unbearable! you know that! i won’t do it, stephen!” “okay, then.” what followed was a 13-minute rambling of how we needed to get back together and make things work - “for real this time” - and move back in together to start saving money and planning for this new future of ours. although i had long thought this was what i wanted, it absolutely felt a reckless decision. this was not the circumstance under which i wanted this person back in my life. i was, however, tired of fighting, of trying. tired of being faced with difficult decisions. i did almost none of the talking. he hung up and i let the phone slip into my lap. On his lunch break, we met up halfway between my house and his place of work so that I could give him a set of keys. When we met on the sidewalk, he grabbed my face and kiss me deeply. It felt cinematic, in a beautiful way. I was speechless. He had lots to say. Mostly how he missed me and just wanted to ravage me right then and there, on his break. i knew this was a terrible idea, as much as i also wanted it. besides: he would move back in that very night. i went to work that evening, going through the motions, barely able to speak to anybody, much less behave like a human being. what was happening couldn’t possibly be happening to me - this was cinematic, and not in a beautiful way. i watched the day unfurl for myself feeling powerless and exhausted. i returned home and he was there. in our house. one of three we shared together. it felt equal parts right and wrong. “i talked to that girl,” he said. “how did that go,” i asked. i didn’t care, but i asked. “she seemed very indifferent. detached. i told her i cheated and that this was the decision and she told me ‘good luck’ and hung up.” “sounds weird,” i replied. “yeah, well, whatever.” that was that on that. he had put in his 30 day notice on his apartment. he moved his cat in. he ended a relationship. he told his parents and friends everything. all within a matter of six hours. i had told no one. he made me dinner. i couldn’t taste anything. we made love and fell asleep holding each other so close, more tears, two scared children with nothing else to grasp hold of but the thing that made the most sense to us. because it was familiar.
pt ii
stephen’s words and movements were frenzied. i worried we were making a mistake. “don’t worry,” he assured me. “i never stopped loving you. if we just keep talking through everything that scares us, i think we can do right by this situation.” i wasn’t convinced, but the gestures were comforting. i expressed my concerns that he was pivoting his emotions from relationship to relationship and back again too quickly. “i never loved her” he said firmly. “you were going to MOVE IN with her” i exclaimed. “that was to be more of a roommate situation than anything. i can’t afford my place on my own and she needed to be closer to work.” “so you get a roommate - not a romantic partner” i replied. “of course. but my feelings, while mixed, are pretty positive right now and i just want to act on them. whatever was going on with her is over and done with - you’re the one i love, not her.” this should have made me feel better about things but it didn’t. a roommate situation? and who starts a live-in relationship after only weeks, when they’re not over or ever really completely finished the previous one? this was something i didn’t want to press and resolved to come around to some other time. there were more pressing matters to tend to - like the physical discomfort i was experiencing. that Friday, two days after stephen moved back in, I left town to go to a friends bachelorette party. The timing was awful. All I wanted was to be home with him, talk things through, and visit a doctor to get some answers. As inconvenient as this was, We both agreed that the trip may be the last time I’d really be able to let loose with my friends for a long while. It was too late to back out at this point and I really didn’t want to disappoint anybody or miss out on any of the fun. this would be fine. I was incapable of really having a good time. My emotions were off the charts, I wasn’t ready to tell anybody about… Anything. eventually i told one friend a half-truth: that i “think i might be” pregnant. i had to talk to someone, about anything. it was an unideal venue; we were in a Reno casino buffet at a table with eight other people. she was as helpful as she could be with the vague, albeit false information i gave her. i tried so hard to behave normally and to have a good time. but For two days the thought that “I shouldn’t be here“ clouded my every move. i felt physically ill from the indoor smoking and had a debilitating panic attack my second day there. i was on the phone with my love nearly the entire time telling him about how worried i was. i felt terribly anxious and my abdomen had started to ache. given the circumstances of my surroundings and the stage of pregnancy, this was all normal. i told stephen that i worried i was miscarrying. he tried his best to ease my worries, but anxiety had me firmly in its grip. i couldn’t stop crying. all i wanted was to be home. he said he wanted me home and that’s all it took. i would end up leaving Reno a full day early. I arrived back home Sunday morning just as stephen was leaving to go to work. i would sleep the next seven hours. my anxiety had lessened but was still ever-present. what was this life, now? this is it? we are back together, about to be parents? it was, frankly, what I had always hoped for us. Just not like this, not yet. but by now the reality had begun to settle in. we talked about how beautiful our children would be. stephen said was excited to become a father and told me he had always wanted me to be the mother of his children - “when we were ready.” this comforted me deeply. We would spend the next few days spending every moment together that we could, talking through every uncomfortable and beautiful moment, convincing ourselves this would feel normal again soon. a few more days passed and the pain in my abdomen had only intensified. i was so afraid. i didn’t want to know what was going on but we had no other choice. i put it off for as long as i could. i made an appointment at the family planning clinic for a few days later, but we both resolved that getting a pregnancy test in the meantime would, at least, answer one big question. stephen joked that if i had miscarried we would just go home and try again. i didn’t find this very humorous. i shared my anxieties about what would become of us if that were the case. “let’s cross that bridge when we get there. let’s not think the worse just yet. just know that i’ll be here no matter what.” i believed him. we came home and made love before we could even unload our groceries. we had been all over each other since living under the same roof again. it was nice. but the elephant in the corner of the room became larger. we couldn’t put it off any longer. the three minutes it took for the test to develop felt endless. he held my hand. i was vibrating with nerves and could barely breathe.
pt iii
negative. even now, eight months later, i can’t express how i feel about that singular, pale blue line. i came out of the bathroom my eyes full of tears. he looked at me and all i could do was shake my head. we held each other and cried for a few minutes, neither saying a word. eventually he broke the silence. “how do you feel?” “i don’t know. sad? relieved? i don’t know.” “yeah,” he commiserated, “me too.” in that moment all I wanted was to fall asleep and wake up with none of this having happened. the stress, the fighting, the harsh words, the heartbreak. was it really all for nothing? were we really, actually in a situation where bringing new life into the world would be the only thing to make all of that worth it? was it a bad dream? it was surreal enough. i mean, i’d told him i was pregnant while wearing a barbie tracksuit, for fucks sake. did this really happen? like this? after a few more moments of silence, I brought up my next biggest fear: “so what does this mean for us? you gonna leave me now?” he looked me straight in the eye and said “no. you still need me now so i will be here for you. we can talk about us later. right now i’m worried about you and your health.” i nodded and let that be enough for the time-being. we made dinner and watched kedi - one of our favorites - on the living room floor. we went to bed with not many words, but a lot of embrace, just as much unease as ever pushing us close. The next morning I wanted to skip class so bad but had missed too many sessions. Even though the situation was a good enough excuse, I wanted my days going forward to be as normal as possible. We spent the morning showing each other Memes and talking about how much we hated peeps. who buys those, much less eats them? things felt calm yet upended. i got ready slowly as we discussed which items of each other’s furniture we would put into storage: i wanted his coffee table and dining set, he thought he wanted to sell his couch. he would bring his bed frame over that afternoon and we would both seek out a storage unit to store the things we didn’t immediately know what to do with. i left him with a kiss and we exchanged “i love you”s. halfway through my first class, i started feeling very sad. we had talked about how ultimately, we were very excited to become parents. i thought about names and how our child would dress - and now that wasn’t happening. i opened up instagram to distract myself. stephen had sent me a few memes in the hour and a half since i left home. they made me smile. i texted him around noon. “feeling pretty crushed today.” “i know, me too. it’ll be easier soon.” “you’ve been good to me throughout all this and i appreciate you. i love you so much. these have been some of the worst weeks of my life.” an hour passed. “how are you feeling?” at around 2:30 i got a reply. “honestly i’m not sure what to tell you. i put all my personal feelings aside to do right as a father. now that isn’t happening” “uh oh... so what? you wanna move back out and have that girl move in with you after all?” “if that’s a possibility then yes, but in the meantime I don’t think it’s a good idea that I live here.” ”i cannot fucking believe this.” “i think you can.” I sprinted out of class and called him. I was in the center of my department, screaming at the top of my lungs, words I can’t even remember, blacked out from the rage that I felt. while on the phone, he told me he was already moving all of his belongings out. that he wouldn’t be home when i returned. i ran to my car, determined to not let him take the coward’s way out. “don’t drive while angry” he urged me. “FUCK YOU” was all i could muster. i got home. empty. his keys in a box on the porch. some of the choice texts i received in my drive home: “all i ever wanted was to move on and you’ll never let me do that.” “keep telling yourself how delusional i am. whatever makes you feel better.” in regards to all the times he said he still loved me: “yeah, i was fooling myself.” i wanted to go to his house and set it on fire. i wanted to drive there at 100mph, see him in the street and ram right into him. after all this tumultuous upheaval, the pain (physical and emotional), stress and tenuousness - to leave without saying anything. he told me later that he had intended to not tell me at all that he had left; that i was to just come home to an empty house. i don’t know which is worse. i got into bed and screamed and cried in the fetal position. he called me back, sounding like a robot. “this is how it had to happen. i had to do this.” not once an apology. (spoiler alert: i wouldn’t receive an apology for four months.) not once a tangible emotion behind any of his words. “i’m coming to your house. i deserve more than this.” “i will not let you ambush me.” he called me crazy. i wanted to die. he told me he saw the other girl just moments after moving out of my house. i may never know what he told her, but can guess it left a lot of this out.
pt iv
over the next two weeks, I would spend most of my days in bed. I missed work, school, invites from friends and family… many of whom would not know what happened for several more weeks to come. some still have no idea. I was too devastated to admit that any of this had actually happened – that this person that everyone knew and loved was capable of abandoning me at the time i needed him the most. that i chose to suffer in solitude while my body literally rejected life. within a matter of days, the other girl not only took him back, but did, in fact, move in with him. i was dumbfounded. how could any self-respecting woman know the details of this sordid affair - after being cheated on, no less - and still want to be with this monster? the only way, i decided, was that she didn’t know the whole story. i needed her to know the whole story. when i tried to tell it, she blocked me. twice. stephen would soon block my phone number and my instagram because i threatened to tell her the truth - and wouldn’t that be inconvenient? my recollection of events in the months that followed are also hazy at this point. A family member ambushed him at work and he broke down in tears. even then he admitted he still loved me. this made me furious. i would one day drive myself to an urgent care clinic while he texted a mutual friend of ours that his getting his new girlfriend to move back in with him was more important than taking me to seek emergency medical care. this person was unrecognizable to me. he still is. as mentioned previous, i wouldn’t get a sincere apology for months, and only after i reached out via email to ask for financial help in regards to an urgent care bill. he unblocked my number, still acted like an asshole, and the whole mess started over again. as i tried my damnedest to make him take some accountability, his guards went even higher up. what day in August, he showed up at my house unexpected. “if you want to talk, i’m here.” “great. that’s all i’ve been wanting. i’ll let you know when i’m free.” “no, like, i’m HERE here.” I let him in, as much as I did not want him in my home. We talked for a total of three hours. about things we had spent so much time talking about before. the second hour and a half was him experiencing what i can only describe as a nervous breakdown. he couldn’t breathe, body shaking, gasping for air. i did not know what to do with this, but had to admit: this is what i’d wanted to see for months. it wasn’t at all as gratifying as i’d imagined it. i was grateful for the apology, but hated how pathetic he looked. not just the breakdown, but his general affect. depressed. a sickly pallor. less hair than i remembered. i wanted this all to make me feel better, but it didn’t. i was tethered to this person and all i felt was a mounting sadness. mine, his, ours, metastatic. this exchange was, ultimately, at least somewhat cathartic. I got what I wanted, however delayed it was. He truly did seem sorry; I really felt it. we would spend the next week or so talking near-daily. everything felt so tenuous, but i had come to the conclusion that this was what we needed to really move forward: for me to forgive him and for he to forgive himself, whatever that meant or looked like. i still can’t tell you. for months, this person made me feel crazy for the depths of depression that I felt. When he was the word I needed to speak with and heal with, he urged me to “move on, confide in your friends, because i cannot be here for you. i won’t.” it was a callousness i don’t wish on my worst enemy. i have only told a small group of people about all of this, and I am so glad that I did. the gaslighting i was subjected to seemed to quickly dissipate the moment i would tell a new person. a new set of ears and eyes and a new heart to show me compassion and that i did, in fact, have every right to be as furious as i was - if not more. “i would have killed him” said one. “we should break in and steal pepper,” his cat, another suggested. “he better know that if i ever see him in public, it will not be pretty.” “i can’t believe HE did this. stephen. i never would have thought.” i don’t believe in closure. i also do not believe this is something one moves on from. you move forward, riding the same wave of emotions, yet in different times and spaces. i cried every single day from March 28, 2019- the day he impregnated me - until December 31, 2020. my new years resolution: don’t let this take any more of my shine.
pt v
stephen knows I am making this public. I wanted to let him know more as a warning as opposed to asking permission, but I really hoped that this would be good for the both of us. As much as I hate what has transpired, I want the both of us to not carry this heavy load the way we have been.
this catastrophe has utterly changed us. we are not and never will be the same. i often wonder if i’ll ever trust anyone again. he was the only man i ever trusted in my life - and then this. i often wonder if he will ever know how to truly be alone with himself, or if he’ll ever know who “himself” is. i wonder if we’ll ever be able to see each other across a crowded room and smile.
i know i didn’t deserve this. i wondered for a long time if i did. stephen has also wondered if the turmoil and depression he still feels is what he deserves. if there’s one thing i can say I have learned over the course of this past year it’s that everyone deserves what they want. except, of course, if it involves hurting someone else to get it. that realization makes it less clear what i believe he deserves, but i will say this: even at my most objective, i want him to be at peace. happiness is unattainable and fleeting; i don’t know who taught us otherwise. but peace. that is something worth wishing upon those who have done you the worst.
I love the name B and Hov chose. mazel tov!
feelings of:
indifference
illness
anxiousness
displacement
a fist of uncertainty in the pit of my bowels
i just want to feel angered toward something in a ravenous, passionate way - as if my entire existence depended on it.
lol what a dum lil cunt. who knew in only a few years’ time, there’d be *so much* to be angered about.
photographer: Geraint Rees Model: Meeeeee :)
I do maintain that if your hair is wrong, your entire life is wrong.
Morrissey (via moonbrains)
Cher, 1969.
cher had the BEST style in the 60’s // 70’s. so obsessed
my fav
James Franco - Good Time Max - Part 1
it’s things like this that still make me a stan for this freak.
this is the most romantic thing i’ve seen all day
Nothing can stop true love.