Stay … but also, please go.

Stay, by the queen, Rihanna, and Mikky Ekko has always slayed me. I love every moment of it but I especially love these lyrics:

Funny you’re the broken one

But I’m the only one who needed saving

‘Cause when you never see the light

It’s hard to know which one of us is caving

Music for the Mood: Stay – Rihanna

I’ve been in private mode on my posts here for a minute. Losing a therapist I trusted, without warning, without a transition plan, really affected me. And I’ve been working through that, personally. There were some dark days.

The past few days though, I’ve received a few missed calls and I sense that someone else might be doing that caving now. Granted, my phone is set to ignore numbers I don’t recognize (which is problematic for both take out drivers and former lovers trying to holla) and, for a woman who no longer knows who in her life is real, this is an inconvenient but necessary layer of protection.

In the past two days, I received two missed calls from unknowns but, upon further investigation, realize that they came to my Google Voice number, which routes to my real phone. One came yesterday, from an un-Google-able, 571 area code — un-ironically in Falls Church, VA, where the handsome red head has family. And now another one, tonight, from “Anonymous.”

I am never going to pick up.

Because the call doesn’t come through. I only see it once it is missed. And, unless the “anonymous” coward leaves a message, I have no reason to respond.

I created that bogus GV number the morning I told John that I knew he was a lying, cheating bastard. A week later, the morning after I received John’s nauseating final text asking me to delete all the sensitive shit he stupidly left for me to discover, to leave her and her family out of it while he tried to put the pieces of them back together, and apparently only after reading what I sent them in the mail, I sent that GV number to his “other woman” via the also bogus email I created, so she could reach me if she wanted to fact check this cluster fuck of a situation, though the screenshots and photos I provided should have been plenty. I said that he had no right to ask that of me, but that I felt she deserved that courtesy. She never asked. Never bothered to contact me at all.

Anyway, I’ve shared that GV number with exactly two people. Him and her. We are all deep in this shit together so why be bashful?

But also, why, period? I’d surmise this outreach is prompted by the fact that I give zero fucks and have shared every blessed detail here, in this online journal, for them, for us, and for everyone who knows any of us. This journal is where I process life but, for the past few months, it’s also become a personal landfill of the truth. I don’t know where else to put the garbage. After I saw that she actually married him anyway, I shared the link on social media because truth is important to me, even if it clearly isn’t to him/them/their village. Are they embarrassed? Ashamed? Bashful behind an anonymous number? Why now?? It’s been nearly five months.

I’m conflicted about whether I want to know why they are calling, and who it is. I’m morbidly curious, of course, but also disaffected and jaded and over it all. But then also kind of looking for a resolution, if that is even remotely possible.

Do you think the other one even knows that they’ve called me? I doubt it. Forgive me for overstating the obvious but … Honesty isn’t exactly a hallmark of their relationship. Maybe he’s already destroyed theirs too. I hope she wised up and walked away.

I guess all I can say is…

Bring. It. On.

I’ve been a fighter for a long time now. Try me. I’ve got nothing but answers for you. Do you have any for me?

Still waiting on the latter.

Author: tigerlilyvegas

Former high school counselor, left of center, lover of grilled cheese, black coffee & IPAs. Equal affinity for turquoise water & white sands and the quiet, calm, green & wooded heaven that is western PA. Passionate about equity, justice, and requited love. And crucifying cheaters.

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