Years ago I was a pawn in a Lebanese game of deception. There are some who are gifted in the craft of seduction, the wiles of cunning manipulation and I, ever so thirsty for the juice of love, willingly indulged in each temptation, drunken with intoxication. The dance, literally and figuratively, went on for years, though the players multiplied in the final year. It was during that time that the one who wooed with such intensity inexplicably turned out to have a girlfriend. A trend that humorously repeated itself four times that year, and those were only the ones I knew about.
As this year's theme goes, things are never what they appear to be.
To heighten the perversion of the game he'd placed me into, the truth came out when my ex boyfriend wrote me an email informing me that the wooer had a girlfriend, had gone to Vegas with her not Seattle alone as I had been told and that the 'rejection' email he'd sent me was in fact written by her. And my ex had been in on it too. They all sat around, plotting, discussing me, thinking of how to add more poison to the scene, all while sipping whiskey and smoking their imported cigarettes. I'd intuitively thought the tone of 'his' letter had sounded different and as I'm finding every year, my intuition is always on point. It is the engaging of the intuition that I get derailed from.
As if planting a seed of preparation for the fate that would arrive, when I read the email revealing such despicable truth, I was eerily calm. You see, the glorious thing about the truth is, however painfully, it always sets you free. Hearing the gruesome details helped connect the dots for me, things finally made sense, the holes were filled and I was released from the bondage his feigned love had held over me.
What a gift.
True to form, as the patterns of life continue, this year found itself in a very similar repetition. Not once, but twice. Yes, indeed I fell victim to the revealing of the truth from the chosen woman (for I am, evermore, the Other woman) and more than once within a month. How is it possible Fate could so quickly deal such a fatal hand? And twice?
First, the remarried ex to the ex confessing in a rage her invasion of his accounts, her stalking and plotting and attempted sabotage of the relationship that had awakened his depressed coma. And the lie, or likely truth, that he now, like her, saw my love for the inconvenience it truly was, a headache. Quote, unquote.
And again I had intuitively known she was reading his emails but he'd childishly declared "She would never do that." But she would and she did and she pridefully told me. And my instincts were on point.
Freedom. Release. Acceptance. Truth.
Enter Stage Right, Prince number.....oh who can keep track. Full of overtures of enamored affection, passionate embraces and dreams of new beginnings. Overwhelmed by the outpour of infatuation, I once again, overcome with thirst, drank it in, willingly, fully, with thankful arms. And true to form, the demons found themselves in very desirable packages.
Things are never what they appear to be.
And this supposed Prince turned out to be yet another coward hiding behind his controlling counterpart, cowering in the corner and secretly wishing he could escape to work to breathe in some much needed oxygen. Where he stands, he has to take more breaths to get the same amount of oxygen and the inevitability of asphyxiation looms overhead. Poor guy.
Oh, but wait.
Enticed to engage in a seemingly blithe interchange the player suddenly revealed their hand: it is not in fact the Prince you are engaging, it is her! Predictably, the man, claws of contention poised to strike, has duped me!
Damn.
And intuition at hand, I recalled what had almost spared me from all of this a month ago.
I had an obviously spirit filled impulse, an overwhelming desire to leave my job after the bombardment of hate that showered my phone and computer because the minions of Mr. Indecisive were much too close to my daily parameters. But the Prince, poised ever so seductively against my gate of freedom, tempted me to stay. His clear affection for me hit me right in the crack of my ever so vulnerable heart and I was not strong enough to follow what my intuition was desperately willing me to do. Just as months prior when I was prompted to fast from the Insane One, his overtures of desire for me clouded my knowing spirit.
My vulnerability, my point of no return, lies in men who need me, who deceive me into believing they "love" me.
But they don't.
They are merely insecure narccissists, floundering and lost, using my inner light and strength to keep them afloat, suffocating me in the process.
And here we've dubbed such selfishness as romance.
Repulsive.
He had even uncandidly revealed his true motives in saying, "I selfishly want you to stay for personal and professional reasons." Selfishly. That should have been my first clue. But as I said, my cracked heart of vulnerability. Hopeless to the pleading eyes of desperate men.
A well played hand, I must say. He had played the different role most favorably. "I'm not like other guys" was his adage of pride. And I was much too willing to believe it. Silly rabbit, tricks are for kids. And that rabbit hole has long since rotted away. It is most assuredly time to gather your sparkles and move on.
And praise be the Protector spared me any more wasted selfless love.
This treasure needs to be guarded. Somewhere lives a Prince who will love with his selfless heart. And I am preserving mine, in spite of the efforts of the Deceiving Liars.
The Truth will always set me free.
'Tis a shame, you'll never know such sweet bliss.
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