She Forced Me To Cheat On Her, I Didn’t Want To Do It

"As I’m writing this now, I am just realizing how much of an idiot I was."

I really couldn’t have asked for a better relationship. It was a union that was filled with lots of love and life. It was the kind of romance that just exuded passion, commitment, sensitivity, and thoughtfulness. The best part about what we had was that it was that what made our relationship special was something organically shared between the both of us. No one person was carrying the entire relationship. We were a partnership and we played off of each other’s dynamics very well. Not to take anything from what I brought to the table, but readers must understand why my girl was the total package. She was everything any man could have ever wanted in a woman. She was witty and adventurous. She carried the kind of beauty that you only read of in books. She was mischievous and exciting. She had the caring and nurturing nature of a mother. She had the cute innocence of a child. She truly encompassed all things great in a world full of terrible things. However, I still managed to be unfaithful. I committed traitorous acts of infidelity and this is all despite the fact that she was as amazing a woman as she was. You should know upfront, that she definitely deserved to be cheated on.

She wasn’t necessarily an avid fan, but she would catch some basketball games with me whenever I had control of the remote. She would start cheering and yelling whenever my team scored a basket or made a great defensive play. She would boo the opposing team whenever they started showing signs of success. It was very odd to me because I knew perfectly well that she wasn’t a basketball fan. Why was she trying to deceive me with her false adoration for a game that I love? You don’t see me acting all interested in Scandal or Gossip Girl the way that she is. There is no rule anywhere that says I immediately have to be interested in whatever things my girlfriend is interested in. But there’s no getting around the fact that she still made that effort. She still tried to get interested in the things that I was interested in. I confronted her about it and she said that she only wanted to do it as a way for us to bond. She said that I was what was interesting in the equation, and she wanted to know more about what I liked in life. I wasn’t buying into any of it. I like to keep things real. You get nothing fake out of me. If I don’t like something, then I don’t like something regardless of whoever else does.– Continue reading on the next page

She’s probably a crazy serial stalker. That’s what I told myself time and time again when I couldn’t explain why she knew things about me that no other people knew. She always managed to know what was causing my bad mood even when I never tell her anything about it. She always knew when I was feeling hungry, or what kind of food I wanted to be munching on at a particular time. She always knew the movies that I wanted to see during the weekend even when I don’t talk much about it. She has her way of gathering these secrets about me, and it’s definitely weird.

Because of all the knowledge she has managed to acquire regarding my existence, I bet she felt like she could be the go-to source of solutions for all my problems. I bet she felt like she was the answer to all of the questions in my life. I guess she was right in her feeling because there is truth in what she felt. She always did manage to give me the answers that I was looking for (even when nobody else could). She always managed to fix the problems in my life (no matter how hard I tried to fix them myself). But I never admitted this to her. I never thanked her for it. I never expressed my gratitude. The reason I didn’t do so was because I didn’t want to give her this power over me. I didn’t want to make her feel like she could take control of my life.

As I’m writing this now, I am just realizing how much of an idiot I was. I let something so special and pure slip right out of my hands. I gave in to my carnal natures to be disloyal and I blamed her for it. I told her that she loved me too much and that she forgot about herself in the process. I asked her how she could expect me to love her when she didn’t even love herself as much as she loved me. I asked her why she didn’t think I would cheat on her when all she ever did was love me to the best of her abilities. I was asking the wrong questions. I should have been asking myself why I wasn’t loving her the way she deserved to be loved. I should have been asking what I did to deserve the kind of love that she was giving me. I should have been asking more about what I could have done to make her life easier.

But now I can’t ask those questions anymore because I dropped he ball.

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