A couple of weekends ago, I found out that my ex-boyfriend of six years had been cheating on me during our relationship. As I sat in the car and heard this news, I nonchalantly laughed it off like I didn’t care, gave a little shrug and a “Oh yeah?” But deep down inside it hurt a little. I felt a little sting. I couldn’t believe it, well deep down I actually could. When I had gotten home, of course the first thing I did was text up my closest friends, put on my drama queen hat and begin to go on about how I felt so betrayed, how I was disgusted, disappointed and wondered what wasn’t a lie at that point. My friends being supportive as they are, joined in on the angry brigade with me, but one in particular pointed out to me, that it shouldn’t matter. Deja, look around you. Look at all you have. Look at all the progress in your life you have made in the last two years. Could you ever have been this proud of yourself had you stayed with him? The answer was a solid “no” because to be quick honest when I had made the decision to end things with him, I had already been so far removed emotionally from the relationship.
In that moment I had closure. All feelings I thought I had diminished. It became clear to me that being friends with him made absolutely no sense at all. We had nothing in common, he was now my past, history and for the most part we live our lives trying not to repeat history. I thought about relationship that we had and the problems we had. How he never really trusted me even though I never gave him a reason not to. I thought about the private messages I would always see because he failed to log out of his accounts on my computer and I wondered how in the world did I put up with that. The Deja of today would have never, but I was young (literally), it was my first relationship and I swore I was in love. I didn’t know myself and I allowed my identity to be molded into someone else’s. I didn’t know what real love consisted off. To me dating and relationships at that stage in my life was trips to the movies, out to eat at a franchise restaurant or wandering the mall. As I grew up that was all I knew, until I learned that there were other types of men all around me. I was just too blind to realize. Men who didn’t mind wining and dining. Men who appreciated the intellectual me. Who embraced my natural hair (he hated me for cutting my hair, said I looked like a boy), who didn’t feel the need to put me down with sharp insults during petty arguments. Guys who were really gunning to get to know who I was because to them I was everything that I wasn’t to him.
I was his chef, his maid, his primary caregiver…his mother and I never felt appreciated for anything. So I sat and asked myself, why are you hurt, disgusted and disappointed? You’ve moved on a long time ago. Knowing what I know now, I am completely and 100% happy of the decision I made to walk away from that mess. I am happy to say that I still have a lot of love in my heart to give to the right person. I am anxious in knowing that I am closer to meeting that person. But best of all, I am not another bitter black woman.