Ghosts of the Years Gone By

Are we bored yet of my cheating saga?  I know, I know…’s old news.  But you see, that’s the thing, there’s layers to this drama.  It’s not a case that he got his jollies off, we ended and happy days, we both live our own future now.  There were a number of other players to this story and unfortunately, living in the same city, somehow we enter into each other’s lives once again albeit indirectly.

An acquaintance of mine I discovered recently had become good friends with one of the so and so’s that covered for my ex during his affair.  Now there’s a difference maybe between knowing about the affair and being too scared to mention anything because you don’t want to ruin someone’s marriage.  That, I can somewhat try to understand.  This was deception; phoning me and pretending he needed help with his broken car to get my ex out the house, kidding on they were getting together for my ex’s birthday and plenty more.  I asked for an answer from him when everything surfaced but like most cowards when called out on their lies, he couldn’t face me.  Infact the only time he’s had the audacity to try to get in touch is when he fell out with my ex and wanted the tapes I had of my ex in a compromising situation.

What my acquaintance does is his business yet I felt a surge of anger when I discovered their friendship.  We have daily interactions and whilst I respect him, ultimately he doesn’t owe me anything.  Speaking about it briefly with him, I felt that old humiliation resurface.  I cut the conversation short, feeling embarrassed at hearing my voice crack.  How they all must have laughed at me, I started thinking.

How they must all still laugh at me.

Officially Wife No. 1

As year four of the split comes closer, it’s unusual for me to have thoughts about my ex or my marriage.  So when I do, it can catch me off guard and lead to a strange mix of emotions.

For a few weeks now, I’ve had this feeling, as though I was being prepared for some news to come my way about my ex.  Living in a small town, it’s easily heard and difficult to avoid.  I knew he was married, thanks to the many people who attended his wedding (and felt the need to send me photos from it).  I figured he was probably going to become a father soon and feeling sorry for the possible foetus, thought nothing more of it.

I was sat with my sister at the weekend as she received some snapchats.  I caught glimpses of the photos.  It turns out I was wrong about the baby but rather, it was a very late walima party.  I could’ve shrugged it off like I did with the wedding but this time, possibly because of the deflated way I was already feeling, I couldn’t.  I felt stung by the injustice of it all.