May – July 2018. That summer was awesome. Most of my time was spent with my Ride or Die’s, wine club and fam. I went wine tasting and camping. Miss D’s backyard was my second home and Vic and I had our annual birthday BBQ, which was always a fabulous time. Oh yeah, and I was on the verge of my first “dominant/submissive” interaction (nonsexual).
Despite all of the good times, I let feelings for Big Country loom over me.
He was never quite absent from my life. As you recall, that year started off with him ghosting my ass after the big New Year’s day argument; then, almost a month later, he started calling me to say “hi”; and when our friend passed away in March, he decided to tell me that he was in love with me.
He called me at least once a week. I allowed him to keep in contact with me even though I knew he was manipulating me. I thought I loved him, so how could I just give it up?
Bottom line at that point, I still wanted to be with him. I was going to focus on positivity and have faith that one day, as my absence grew, he would realize that he wanted me to be his woman. I did everything I thought would help me – I journaled, I did yoga (loved it) and I even read the positive “relationship” and “faith” stories’ on “The Secret” website.
I savoured his feeble attempts at, I guess, friendship? Fuck, I don’t even know what to call it, and all the while, trying to be cool, calm and collected.
We chatted like friends, caught up on what was new.
He eventually started peppering the “I miss you”; the “I hope we get back together again”; and the “I love you” into conversations. He complimented me with lines like, “you’re the coolest, most amazing woman I’ve ever been with”. He told me he still wanted to buy property with me and live the quiet cottage life on the water.
I tried keeping it platonic, but would respond by telling him that I loved him too, that I would wait for him.
Silly. Fucking. Poppy.
I naively believed him when he said all the sweet things. I hung onto every word with faith and hope.
He dangled the relationship carrot just far enough for me to ignore logic, my gut, and any “lessons learned”.
Silly. Fucking. Poppy.
Insecure. Fucking. Poppy.
I continued to confide in my girls. Lady G and J-Cat remained skeptical, but supportive. Another friend, Haubinator, was not so “team Big Country”. She laid it on the table and literally said that he “just wasn’t that into me” (yes, total reference to the movie, lol); that I needed to accept that he did not want a relationship and he wasn’t worthy anyway.
Essentially, these three ladies were the “voice of my gut”; the gnawing feeling I had because I knew that Big Country wasn’t any good for me. They did not sugar coat anything, and in their own caring ways, gave it to me straight.
On the other hand, Miss D and Cheese were more team Big Country. They knew how much I was investing. They knew I wanted to be with him. They were encouraging and positive. They wanted me to be happy and to fight for what I wanted and not give up unless I was ready.
Alas, there were more red flags…
Red Flag #20? (I’ve lost fucking count) – In the comfort of not being committed, not only had he professed his undying love and adoration for me; he said that he knew he had to make changes and figure his shit out, but he just needed time. He didn’t know how much time, but that I should know that he would always love and care for me. He promised that he wasn’t sleeping with or dating anyone else. He exaggerated how much I was the one for him. I bought into everything he was saying with the tiniest grain of salt. I wanted to believe him. I knew that if he actually loved me; if he felt all those wonderful things for me, he would make every physical and emotional effort to reconcile. He would want to spend time with me. He was all talk and I let that be the standard.
I was exhausted from the fight between the overwhelming feelings of mistrust versus what my heart thought it wanted.
I even had conversations in my head about whether he was actually worth it. I never 100% believed that he was, but wanted to find out. I convinced myself that he could change, grow up, be better to me. I mean, he was not that great to me the first time around.
Red Flag #? Canada Day proved my ill-feelings were warranted. After the long weekend, I laid in bed, turned Netflix on my TV and scrolled through my social media feeds, creeping on the photos of others’ happy weekend celebrations (naturally). I came upon an album posted by Kay (Big Country and I spent the infamous New Year’s at her place). I opened it up, and INSTANTLY my insides sank. There he was, Big Country and a woman, sitting next to each other by the pool, hanging out together in the pool, and photos of him and her in a boat enjoying the day, swimming in a lake. They weren’t particularly amorous photos, but I knew the two of them were not “just friends”. Everything that I was worried about – the insecurities, doubt, mistrust, came crashing to reality (was this a tad dramatic? Yes, but goddamn it, that’s how I felt). I did what any sensible person would do, I immediately took screen shots of the photos and sent them out for further professional and rigorous analysis to Miss D, Queen B and Cheese. I agonized over the photos; every past conversation and reassurance of his “love and care” for me was utter bullshit.
The girls were responsive and broke down their interpretations. They came to similar conclusions, neither of them showed any joy or happiness in the photos; maybe she was just a time filler; maybe this woman lived around the corner and sucked a good dick. Maybe she was just the stepping stone for him to realize how much he did wanted me back. Or maybe, she was his new girl and I would have to accept it.
I still was not ready to let him go. (insert all expletives and shaking of heads here).
For shit’s sake. Poppy, this was all on you.
After about a dozen phone calls with my girls, I felt better. I convinced myself that it was all good and at the end of the day, I would come out as the victor in this, that he loved me and she was only temporary.
Again, insert head shake and expletives here.
I can’t believe how much energy I spent in convincing myself that he was worthy, that I couldn’t imagine myself without him. It hurts to know how desperate I was for him.
Red Flag #? I was away with our wine club for a weekend trip to Prince Edward County later that July. I had just gotten over the photo debacle, when I received a text message from Big Country very early in the morning. I knew he had been working nights and he knew I was away, and we had been talking back and forth over text and telephone. To my surprise, he wrote something along the lines of how he “was going to deep throat you so bad that it’ll make you puke”. Now, the “you” in this context was not me. He and I had not ventured anywhere remotely close to sexting. Actually, we had never engaged in any kinky messaging (which I enjoyed, but he never reciprocated).
I felt sick. My heart sank and I immediately started sweating. Everyone in the Air B n’ B were still asleep (I think it was 6:30am at that point), so I was freaking out alone. I sent him a message, stating that he should really be careful with who he was sending such explicit texts to. He messaged me right back and said he was in the middle of joking around with some of the guys he was working the nightshift with; that a bunch of them were talking dirty shit about women. I phoned him and asked him to clarify. He spat out the same story. I called bullshit, but he swore it was the truth.
FUCK ME.
I phoned Miss D right away. She answered and I broke down the story to her. She told me it was probably nothing, and not to worry about it. I could tell in her voice that she was worried/did not believe him. Cheese was the only other person I told because I was humiliated that I continued to allow him to be a part of my life and because his lie was so fucking transparent.
We continued speaking the rest of the summer. It was still him, reaching out weekly. I never brought up the woman in the photos or the mistaken kinky text. I figured, I was not his girlfriend, therefore, it was not any of my business. The length and frequency of our conversations grew longer as the summer went by too, which I felt was promising.
Again, insert head shake and expletives here.
August 2018. I figured, I had nothing to lose. We were getting along pretty well and were talking all of the time. I invited him to me and Vic’s annual birthday BBQ. He declined. He was going to a friend’s cottage. I was disappointed and totally not surprised. Oh well.
I did not have the gall to call him out on any of the bullshit; nor the courage/clarity to tell him how I was truly feeling and free myself from this fucking circus.
I knew I was not in a good place or headspace. He delivered bad juju and I gave him permission.
But, as I typically do, I ignored all foreshadowing and decided to continue to have faith and think positively, even if it was causing me more stress than calm.
By the end of the summer, I started feeling good about “us”. He continued calling and messaging. The tone of our conversations were the best they had ever been.
The best sign of good things to come for us was when he invited me to have dinner at his parent’s place to celebrate his sister’s birthday.
I was shocked and excited.
This must mean that we were getting back together, that shit was finally going my way, right?
He and the other woman must be over and he was ready to be with me, right?
Wrong.
