Let me tell you a story

Bear with me, for this is a long one.

I used to go out with someone who lied and cheated on me. We went out for almost one year, and it finally ended after I found out the extent of his lies on that one occasion.

You must think I was an idiot for forgiving him in the first place. But I had my reason for I was in love. When love feels as good, is it not worth your all? When no one else matters in your eyes, is it not worth a second chance?

For the two months he claimed to be in Australia for a course, he was actually in Germany, holidaying with an ugly Maria. And I only managed to confirm this when I got my hands on his passport (psychotic, I know! I know!) a month upon his return.

You see, I didn’t want to jump ahead of myself. I wanted to throw solid, indisputable evidence to his face when I confronted him. Because he is exactly like me - for as long as we can wiggle our way out of our lies, we would. Even it that involves even more lies.

He admitted to being in Germany with Maria. But they were just friends, he said. Been friends for over 4 years. He just didn’t know how I would take it (had he been honest about going over to visit a girl friend), since we had only just met.

I kept telling myself that if it were meant for me to find out, the truth would come if I wait patiently.

How did I live without knowing? How did we continue to see each other, going on pretending like nothing happened?

Oh, it wasn’t easy. For months, I was crying inside. Though all appeared bright and we did have a lot of fun going out still, my heart was throbbing and my mind wasn’t at peace.

I kept sane with the support of my friends. The girls, I tell you, were the best of friends anyone could ever ask for. Malena was always there every moment I needed her, day-in day-out, rain or shine. Eleanora kept on listening to my cries, (though in her heart I know, she was wondering why I was crazy to put this onto myself). Za - the analytical Za - actually brainstormed with me, giving me different possible scenarios that could have taken place. Non, my girlfriend for over a decade - even agreed to accompany me to a chick flick that she’s seen before simply because she knew I needed a laugh. She met me at the cinema armed with comfort foods.

Came one point, I had no more trust for the guy. On one hand I knew he meant it when he said he loved me. On the other, I couldn’t live being suspicious all the time; couldn’t live with doubting his words and checking his mobile for unusual messages/phone calls at every opportunity.

8 months down the line, he went for a game of tennis while I waited at his place. Bored watching DVDs, I flipped my fingers through his stuff. And on that particular day, and that day for the first time ever, I opened his Filofax.

Now, now, you women out there would know exactly what I’m talking about. We do this when we feel something amiss with our partners. For those smug women who think they will never stoop as low as this, think again - I was once in your shoes. For the men, oh, piss off! Your psychotic girlfriends/wives turn such due to your own naughtiness!

What I found in the Filofax sent a chill down my spine. In there, carefully tucked away in individual plastic strips, were letters from Maria. Letters detailing how much she missed him, longed for his touches, craved for his kisses. The letters were dated after his visit in July, up until Christmas.

In one of her letters, she attached some of her photos for his view - naked photos to be exact. One in the bubble bath; another on the sofa, touching her breasts; one of her back… you get the picture.

Needless to say that all my plans to confront him in a calm, composed and very mature manner went out the window the moment he stepped into the door. I threw the Filofax to his face, ripped the pages out, and read her letters one by one. Out loud to his face. I walked out the door as I left him speechless, with no more possible lies to cast my way.

A barrage of “what ifs” stormed my mind after that. What if I had known this earlier, would I have given him the second chance? What if I had found out something else, surely that would spare me the ugly sight of Maria naked (trust me, I am saying this with all objectivity). What if I never found out, isn’t ignorance bliss?

In the process of mending my broken heart, I realized that whatever happened was meant to be. It was never meant for us to have worked out, so he did what he did. But, had I stopped short of giving it a try, and never did find out to the extent of his lies, I know I would always wonder if I gave up too easily too soon.

Had I confronted him earlier, he could’ve hidden all signs, and there's a chance I would never have found out. I came to terms that it was meant for me to find out, just when I did. Not any sooner. Not any later. For God works in mysterious ways, He knew that at that point I was strong enough to take the blow and bears the courage to walk away without regrets. Yes I was stumped, and cried buckets, but hey, I survived.

I’m all over him now. And I've learnt many lessons. And the one thing he taught me was to risk falling in love again.