I feel zombified.

But it’s time to recount what happened.

Wednesday night, my boyfriend of 16 months, who (I thought) loved and adored me as much as I did him, and who had recently had his license suspended due to a DUI, got into his car (with one headlight missing) and drove 45 minutes away to meet some chick he’d just met on OK Cupid.com

I didn’t know all of this – all I knew was that his mother was irate with him for leaving the house – she’d driven by to talk to him about the current show they’re working on and both he/his car were gone.

So I got worried too – I mean, he’d texted me sweet things and that he was tired and going to bed – what had happened to make him endanger himself like that?  If he were to get caught, he could go to jail.  So after about two hours of neither one of us hearing back from him, I meet her at his house to help her wait – both of us hoping that he’s alright and not out at a bar or something reckless.

Which is when we thought, maybe he got an email or FB message about an emergency?

Which is when I saw the FB message about OKCupid girl.

(I think this is about when I stopped breathing… It’s definitely when my heart started to crumble)

They were supposedly meeting in Jerome, so his irate mamma pulled me into her car and we headed up the hill together to… I don’t know what – find him red-handed?  Take back his keys and let him walk home?  Prove that we were wrong, that it was all some kind of horrible joke, and that everything was going to, Please God, be okay?

But either their plans had changed and they met somewhere else or he had already headed back to Prescott, because he was not there.

So we turned around and went back to his place to wait.

Which is when I looked to see if there were more messages, and sure thing – there they were.  He’d been carrying on an affair with a married woman (with child) that works at the PCA as well.  That took some time to absorb.  Enough time, in fact, for him to log onto FB from his phone and delete the rest of his messages – he knew he was caught, he was trying to erase the evidence.  I can only imagine what other messages were there that I didn’t have to read.

By the time he called his mother back, I had cleared all of my stuff out of his house.  All but the vintage typewriter… I will have to get that back.  And he was distraught, hanging out in Dewey, wondering what he could do/how he could spin this – manufacturing all sorts of bullshit to spin.

She went out to get him lest he drive any more on that suspended license, brought him back for me to confront, and left.

I don’t remember all that was said – I know he finally admitted that the affair has been going on intermittently since August.  I know he created the OK Cupid account a short while back.  I know he is ashamed he got caught… I don’t know if he has any comprehension of the pain he’s caused me.

I do know none of this is my fault.

But I feel like I want to disappear into the ether where there can be no pain because you are but a whisp.  If I were able to do that, I might lift myself from the planet for a century or two before returning to my body… that’s how long it feels I’d need to let this heart heal.

I loved this man so much.  We started a theatre company together, we had grand adventures and even grander plans.  We laughed, we snuggled, we said ridiculously funny and sappy things to each other…  and now I’m left to wonder how much of that was even real?

How can a person love you and carry on in such a deceitful manner?  How can they be such a magnificent liar that your friends and family all believe in him?  That they believe in the two of you as a team?  And how could he disrespect all that we had built so much that he would not only throw it all away for cheap thrills, but also not do you the smallest kindness of at least telling you he would rather fuck around than be in a committed relationship?

Sadly, I think it’s because he’s a user.  He liked all my attention.  He liked all the work we did together.  He knew I was a good thing – no, great thing – to keep hold of.  He just didn’t respect me.  He doesn’t respect me.  He doesn’t see me as an entity deserving honesty.  I was just a thing to keep him happy.

And I can’t change that.  He might not be able to change that.  He may not want to change that… seeing people as “things” is a lot easier… It makes it easier to push your way along in life without having to feel responsible for your actions.  It helps you get ahead by any means.  It helps you consume… like a locust… whatever you want.

And he wanted to get caught.

You don’t act as recklessly as that without some silent need to show the world you’re not as good as everyone thinks you are.

He wasn’t driving to Sedona or Cottonwood, or wherever the fuck they wound up, for love.  The affair wasn’t some passionate answer to a lack of passion in our lives.  It was something else entirely… something I don’t understand.  And it’s sick.

I did make copies of the messages between him and the affair-chick.  She contacted me yesterday with this bullshit:

I hope she knows that I don’t believe for a second she told her husband what she’s been doing.  I don’t know if I’ll be able to give him a copy of the messages… what does one do?  If I don’t tell him, he’ll have a great time seeing them onstage together soon… and the thought of anyone having to go through this unknowingly – when others know what is happening… well what a cruel woman she is.  No wonder she and Cason fed off of each other – they’re the same.

So why am I sharing all of this on my blog? Because the only way for a narcisist to feel is to damage his mirror.  Cason is a user and a brilliant performer.  It would be very easy for him to slink off silently, with naught but our closest friends knowing what he had done.  If I thought for a second that he felt remorse for his actions instead of feeling bad for getting caught, I would not be so public with all of this.  I would lick my wounds with red wine and write semi-poetic and non-specific blog posts on the cruelty of the fates instead.

But that’s not this story – this isn’t some one off transgression that could be processed that quietly.  This is a sickness and a disease.  And he won’t change unless he really wants to… if even then.

So I air it out.  I’ve told the story.  I will try, from here, to get back to life and blog postings about life (and probably quite a few more about the pain of all of this) but I will not tell this story again – it’s here, once… which is enough.

And I hope he knows, that no matter the lack of true comittment he felt for me, I did love him truly.  I would have fought dragons for him.  I was the engine behind our theatre company – no part of that was without my hands on the wheel – and I was devoted to him and the possibilities before us.

And now that is all gone.  I am no longer his fan, his supporter, his touchstone.  I am no longer a believer.  I am me… strong, independent, fantastic, and fiery me.

And it’s time I get back to fighting my own fucking dragons instead of sharing my magic with him.