Here’s my story, it’s sad but true.
Misty was my first girlfriend. We were together seven years. She cheated on me six times. I never loved her.
I thought I did, but I didn’t. I first met Misty through a friend at the comic store. She was his girlfriend for two years before he cheated on her. Six months after their breakup I tried to get with Misty. I had this infatuation with her, and I believe now that it was simply because she was the first girl to openly flirt with me. She sat on my lap soaking wet with no bra. She was the first girl to get inches from my face and glance at my lips. She teased me by grinding me and breathing on my neck. She didn’t want me, though. I feel like I forced it upon her. Sometimes I feel that I’m the one to blame for our long and destructive relationship. She was terrible to me, but I’m the one who gave her the ultimatum of being my girlfriend or stop flirting so heavily with me. There was a time when I foolishly let a high school girl a year younger than me cut my hair and she did such a horrific job that I had to shave it all off. Misty and I were together for a year at this point and she couldn’t even look past my shaved head to kiss me for the longest time. She fell out of love with me, simply because I had lost my hair. How could I stay with such a person? But I did. My mistake once more. I was young. Some people say that’s a valid excuse.
I had gotten so used to sleeping in a bed with someone. The idea of sleeping alone again instilled great fear in me. I was also under the impression that I was quite unattractive and I was lucky to have this girl, which was due to Misty telling me how no one could ever want me. The fact that I had a steady girlfriend significantly improved my ability to talk to women, however, given the fact that I didn’t care what they thought of me. So I have to thank her for that, as reluctant as I am. People are often in awe of how easily I can strike up a conversation with girls, and I owe it all to being in a longterm relationship. The first man Misty cheated on me with was named Michael. He added her on Myspace because he thought she was attractive and they met soon after. I had no problem with this, partly because I trusted her and partly because I felt so distant already. They kissed on their first meeting. They fucked the night she broke up with me for him. They did everything inbetween in between. He had a Final Fantasy tattoo on his back. I was devastated. Once again I don’t know why. I didn’t care about her. I was just scared to be alone. I didn’t like the idea of her being with someone while I wasn’t. I don’t know. Misty wanted to continue being friends. I couldn’t take it. I told her so. She said on a Friday that was okay.
The following Monday she texted me wanting to hang out. What part of “I can’t take seeing you anymore” didn’t she understand. I was still in a great deal of depression. How could I be expected to resist the offer? I tortured myself hanging out with her, trying over and over again to get her to come back to me. I didn’t eat for a month. Literally. Chad, Nick, Joe, Logan, everyone noticed how rapidly I lost weight. I went from 165 to 130 in 30 days. My muscle was gone. I could barely lift a ten pound weight. But I was skinny, and Misty liked that. I didn’t do it because she liked it. That just happened to be a pleasant bonus. Eventually Misty started to come around to my side. I was now the one she was having an affair with. Michael grew suspicious, as he should. Misty wouldn’t fucking choose. Eventually both Michael and I had told her “It’s me or him!” to which she took a private weekend to think. Both of us made incredibly stupid attempts to woo her, like she was so Goddamn special. In the end she chose me, and she chose him.
Does that make sense? This woman came to me and said “I love you. I don’t love him.” before taking a trip to her aunt’s house to phone Michael and say the same. She was a horrible liar too. I knew what was really going on. Again, why did I put up with it? Why didn’t I say enough is enough? I don’t know. I really really don’t. It wasn’t love. It was a faux. Some kind of phantom love. And you, dear reader, will be rolling your eyes at my inability to end it by the time this entry is over.
This double life Misty attempted to lead throughout the coming months was exhausting and cost me a lot of time and money. I ordered credit cards so that I could have money to please her. I even proposed to her, for Christ’s sake. She accepted my proposal but took the ring off every time she went to see Michael, wherein she would put on a necklace he gave her. She also liked to transfer our bedroom toys. I found out years later that she shared a cock ring between us. A cock ring! She used it on two people without telling either of them! What a woman. She couldn’t hold her secret forever, and eventually chose Michael, but it was too late. Michael was sick of it. I received a text from him late one night saying “Fuck it dude. You can have her.”
How did it feel knowing that my girlfriend settled for me? Pretty damn good apparently. I was just happy to have her back. She was broken and she couldn’t stand being single. Our relationship only got worse from there. I suppose a part of her knew that if she could put me through all that, then there was nothing she could do that would make me end it. So what was her next move? Cheating on me with her very first Janitor at Wal Mart. She stayed the night frequently with this man. Took pictures with him couples style and posted them without a care in the world. When I confronted her she merely shrugged. “I came back didn’t I?” At the time that was better than the recent past, so I put up with it. This man also got fed up with Misty. He made it look so easy. She soon drowned her sorrow in a stock boy at Wal mart who I thought was my friend. Guess not. Their affair was short-lived when he moved to Washington and once again she came back to me.
I had recently decided I was going to go to school in Florida for film. I wanted to be a director. Misty didn’t want to go. “You really think you’re going to make it as a Director? Oh, please.” She was afraid to leave her small little town. She had no dreams. She had no ambitions. She wanted to die in a trailer park. I made a half-assed attempt to break up with her. I told her that I wouldn’t do long distance and if she wanted to stay together she had to come with me. It was an ultimatum I knew she would reject. I didn’t love her, but I didn’t have the gumption to come out and say it, so I let her think she was going to end it.
But she didn’t.
She moved with me to Florida that July. Why did I let her? What the hell is wrong with my brain? Thankfully the first year in Florida was actually decent between us. Often late at night in bed she would ask why I loved her after all she’s done to me. I could never come up with an answer. It scared me briefly. What should I say? I ran around the Pretty, Funny, Smart carousel until she was satisfied. Again, my fault for our lack of separation. She was literally unable to end our relationship. I was merely too afraid. The inevitable happened and Misty began to interact with people other than myself. She got another job at Wal Mart and before long I found that she was once again cheating on me with a janitor. This one was unaware that I wasn’t okay with that. He greeted me once when I went to pick Misty up, and walked with me talking about how much he loved 90′s music. It was all I could do not to fight him then and there. I found out later he and his girlfriend were swingers, and therefore he thought we were the same. Misty may have given that impression by taking his cock in her mouth. This guy I can’t blame.
I feel like by this time I had developed the appropriate courage to end our relationship. However, politics were now in play. We were barely getting by with student loans and Misty’s work as it was. How could I pay the rent without her? There wasn’t a way. Not to mention we were in the lease together. I suppose I could have counted on my friends to help put me up, but I loathed the thought of leaning on them and exposing Misty’s infidelity. That’s right. Not one person outside of Misty, myself and her lovers knew about her random affairs. I kept those feelings and those angered emotions and sleepless nights wondering when I’d have to let Misty in the house early in the morning to myself. No wonder we got into fights more frequently.
Once more in Florida she cheated on me with a fellow Wal Mart cashier who was a virgin. You go, girl. That relationship was quite short lived because he fell madly in love with her very quickly, and she coaxed him into buying her a Kindle as well as almost getting him to purchase her a computer. That’s when I put a stop to it. I felt bad for that kid. She used him so much it was ridiculous. Then came her annual visit home. She went back to see her family. When she returned she was distant. I asked what was wrong. She said that she had met up with Chris, a person I thought was my friend. She said his friend died and they drank, and then they fucked. I asked if that was the last time. She said they fucked again the next day. I asked her why she would do such a thing. Her response? “Well he was eating me out for like four hours! What was I supposed to do!” My stomach churned. What the hell? I had an opportunity to end it there. I was moving to New York with enough friends. We could have found a place. We had all already put down a deposit on a place with Scott, though. Could I really fuck Scott over like that? Maybe, maybe not. Regardless, I didn’t and we moved to New York together. What was I to do? I was in way too deep now, given a third roommate to think about in the event of a breakup, and in one of the most expensive cities in the world? Fuck. Again it was my fault. I should have ended it five times over. If not because of the cheating then because of the fights.
Our fights were ridiculous. I let her borrow 20 dollars for gas once. She called me up later while I was at Scott’s and shouted through the phone, claiming she had lost it and blaming me, saying, “You should have known I was going to lose that money.” I refused to have the conversation and hung up. When she arrived home later she began slapping me in the face, hitting me in the balls, pulling my hair out of my head in tufts and all I could do was try to restrain her but Jesus man. Girls are limber. Eventually she would march to our bedroom and lock the door until I apologized. That was a regular Misty fight.
Did I mention she was a slob? She never cleaned and she never did the dishes and she always made a mess. While we were living in New York she had agreed to do the dishes one day after a long argument about how I can never come home to some clean cookware. She thought it was just another empty gesture, and upon returning home I found a huge pile of dirty pots and pans. I told her she had to do them because she said she would. She said she didn’t feel like it. I literally picked her up and put her in the kitchen and said I’d had enough of her slacking off and not doing her part or following her word. It may have taken seven years but Goddamn it I came around. She refused to do them. We were living with Scott who abandoned watching TV to watch Misty try every which way to get out of doing what she had given her word she would do. Hours passed.
Scott got tired after about forty minutes and retreated to his room, upon which Misty seethed “Stop trying to impress your friends!” as if this was about that. It was about her always getting away with it. With not doing her part to help around the house, not doing her part to help house train the dogs, not doing her part in staying fucking faithful. So I kept her there. I waited the hours. When she sat herself in the middle of the kitchen floor and folded her arms I stood there, waiting for her to give up. When she tried to hit me I held her off. When she tried to use sex to lure me away I didn’t falter. She eventually succumbed and started throwing the dishes in the dishwasher. I won. For once in our entire relationship, I won. It felt good. It felt worth it.
I lost my job on May 1, 2011. Scott was leaving due to his lack of one. Misty and I had planned to downgrade to a one bedroom at the end of May, despite depleting funds. She made another visit to Kansas. She got a wax before she left. My birthday was May 13th. Shane’s was May 14th. So we celebrated together that weekend at Carlos’ with Brooks and Chris and Kelsey. We played Munchkin and it was one of the best nights of my life. Misty called while I was there. Shane was sitting to my left and I answered. “Happy birthday!” she said, drunk. I said thanks and asked her how Kansas was. She slurred as she spoke and said she was going to go home with this guy named Gary. “Don’t do that.” I said, attempting to hide my frustration.
“Misty, don’t.” I tried to keep it as calm as possible.
“Okay I gotta go, bye! Love you!” and she hung up. Shane said he wanted to go out for a smoke. Chris said he’d join. In the elevator Shane looked at me. He knew. I told them I was gonna break up with Misty. Chris seemed only slightly surprised. Shane said he thought that was how it sounded. Chris asked what was going on. That’s when I confessed. I told them all the times Misty cheated on me. I told them everything she did. It felt good. It hurt. It was exhausting. It was exhilarating. I almost cried. If I loved her I would have cried. Afterward Shane hugged me and offered me a place to stay for his last month in New York. I told Misty it was over before she got back. She cried. She begged. She pleaded. Her mom wouldn’t pay for her trip back. I had to get her the rental car. I had to give her the gas money.
Misty loved me. She had a shitty way of showing it, but she did. She beat me, she pulled my hair out of my head, she cheated on me, she shared my sex toys, she called me ugly and laughed at the idea that any other girl might want me, but she loved me. I came across a notebook of hers in which she tried various ways of spelling out “Misty Laurie”. The page was full of designs. I thought it was weird. That’s how I know that our relationship was a lie from the get go.
I won’t die thinking of Misty. Even while sharing stories of Misty I don’t think about her. I think about the surroundings. I think about the other guys. I think about my friends. I think about what happened the day before or the day after. But I have to force myself to think about her. I never loved her, and I’ll never die thinking of her.