If I wasn't confused before, I most definitely was now.
I couldn't help but feel like the other night had been a catalyst for me to slowly lose any semblance of control over my life and, more importantly, my relationship.
My trust for Summer was in question. This wasn't the first time we've had trust issues, but it was the first time I had any sort of confirmation that my mind wasn't just playing tricks on me. She's always had guy friends while we were dating. Like any loving boyfriend, I was weary of them.
I had trusted her up to this point – for the most part.
The simple fact of the matter is that she is a bold, attractive, intelligent, and sometimes rather flirtatious woman and she knows it. There wasn't a time that we broke up that I wasn't constantly reminded of this fact. Understandably, I had been worried.
But now – now I didn't quite know what to think. My worst fears had been confirmed: she had been with other guys during our breaks.
Should I be angry? I was – at least a little bit. But did I have the right to be? After all, if we weren't together, isn't that sort of thing fair game?
I'm not sure anger was the predominant feeling. Confused? Frustrated? Something else entirely...
Cold water splashed over me as I rubbed my eyes, staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Our little "game" had opened up so many new questions: every answer I received lead way to another. There were so many friends of hers over the years that I now found myself wondering about. The little things that used to make me jealous or annoy me back in the day suddenly seemed much bigger; like they suddenly had the potential to be something more. Things that had caused distrust before now swelled.
Every moment that she had spent talking to Matt on the phone came back to haunt me. "We're just friends, baby. You have nothing to worry about," I remember her saying. Each trip to the mall with Brandon resurfaced and bugged me 100 times more than it had originally. Wasn't there a guy named John she used to talk to? Maybe a Peter?
Hmm. I suppose there's always been some level of suspicion. But at the end of the day I had always pretty much trusted her. Her word was always good enough, no matter what feelings of jealousy, worry, or reluctance had filled my heart.
But now – now I couldn't stop myself from thinking of all the possibilities. So many things that could have happened over the years: things that she could have done; things that could have been done to her.
I shivered.
What happened? Who with?
She had been with other guys – a reality that I had not thought possible just a mere few weeks ago. Those "breaks" had not been quite as innocent as they seemed. But who exactly had she been with? Did I know any of them? And when exactly did things get started?
I guess I couldn't help but wonder if any of them predated our breakups in any way. It was unfair of me to think that. She had given me no reason to think her unfaithful, but my mind was unrelentingly playing tricks on me.
Really, I shouldn't have been thinking that way at all. It was, after all, my idea to ask her the questions. She hadn't revealed anything malicious, just things that changed my perception of her. I suppose that's no crime. Maybe I'd had a picture of her in my mind that was not synced up with reality. Yeah, that might have been it. I thought of her as being this sweet, innocent girl who only had eyes for me. Which is silly, really. Her sex drive had always been high; significantly higher than mine, truth be told. I shouldn't be surprised that she has desires like everyone else. That's normal. Wow, now that I think about it, I was a bit naïve – maybe even borderline stupid regarding the whole scenario.
But I couldn't help it.
My mind was wandering. Swimming with countless thoughts, questions, and hypothetical scenarios. They ate away at me. I hated them. I loved them. They were all I could think about.
It was this way for a few weeks. Our lives appeared to be mostly normal. But on the inside, I knew that everything was different. We didn't talk about what was different. We ignored it, other than the occasional pillow talk.
"I want to hear you say it."
"Say what?" she mocked.
"Please."
"Say what, baby? What do you want to hear me say?"
"Please – please tell me what happened with -- I want to know how –"
"You wanna hear me say that I've fucked other guys? You know I did -- it's not a secret. But you want to know more, huh? Hmm, what reason could you possibly have for wanting to know the exact details of how other guys have gotten inside...this?
Maybe you should stop asking questions, babe. I'm sure you don't want to hear about how other guys have slammed this pussy...do you?"
No real conversations about it. Just the occasional mention while fooling around in one another's unmentionables. Each time I walked away thinking about it more and more.
I felt guilty. Guilty for asking for it and then subsequently being mad about it. Guilty for not trusting her when she hadn't truly given me a reason to distrust her. Most of all, guilty for kind of...liking it.
Spent a lot of time the last week or two just trying to be closer to her. She's been busy a lot. Went up to her job a few times recently, and in a room full of hot, scantily clad women, she always proves to be the hottest. There was no doubt in my mind that I was the luckiest man alive.
Every time I walked in I felt the eyes of her co-workers on me. Eyes that said "That's the guy that's dating her? Really?" I felt it. And they weren't wrong.
"Oh, hey Charles. Didn't see you there."
"Hey Sarah, could you get Summer for me?"
The two of them had worked together for years now, dating back to their days spent at Applebee's. We all went to the same high school. I didn't know her that well until I started dating Summer. We ran in different crowds. She had soft, pale skin that contrasted with her midnight black hair. If I wasn't dating Summer, I'd have had a hard time not staring at her voluptuous curves.
"She's not here. Think she went to go study."
"Oh, okay. Any idea where at?"
"I'm not sure. Think her phone might be dead, so you might have a hard time reaching her."
"Why wouldn't she text me and let me know? I figured we might go out to eat or something after she got off."
"I don't know? What do I look like, her mother?" she said, folding silverware. "Maybe she doesn't want to go eat with you, you ever think about that? Maybe there's a book she needs to check out from the library that you can't give her."
"What the hell are you talking about? The library's not even fucking open," I shook my head, turning out the door. I never did much like Sarah.
When I pulled into the apartment complex I was hoping to see her car there: it wasn't. Decided it might be a good idea for me to get some studying in, too, but I was having a difficult time concentrating, so naturally I gravitated towards Netflix and ended up flopping on the couch.
I heard the door open and shut and realized that I had passed out for a bit. Instinctively I looked up at the clock only to realize that my glasses had fallen off – instead I reached for my phone and saw that it was almost 3 AM.
"Where have you been?" I turned over, propping myself up on the edge of the couch.
"Hanging out with Sarah. Did you have a good day at school?"
I must have shot her some type of look without even realizing it. She arched her eyebrows briefly before letting out a quick sigh. "Well, we were supposed to hang out, but something came up and she couldn't."
"Okay. So what'd you end up doing that took you so long to get home?"
"You know how it is. I hate late nights as much as you do, babe."
"I went up to your work around – I don't know, 11:45, midnight? You weren't there. Sarah said you went to go study." I crossed my arms and gave her what I hoped was a stern look. I was starting to get pissed off.
"I did. I did go and study," she leaned forward, giving me a kiss. I let her, but didn't kiss back.
"I don't understand."
