Mind the Red Flags

So I disappeared for a bit there. My apologies. The Diplomat and I were getting really serious, and it didn't seem right to be blogging about it. When I say really serious, I mean conversations about where to live and how many kids to have and when we'd want to get married.

That was all brought to a crashing halt last week, when I found out that he had been secretly dating another woman. The problem isn't the dating, it's the SECRETLY dating. The most important thing to me in a relationship is honesty, and he was being dishonest not only to me, but to her.

How did I find out? It's not a proud moment for me. I read his email. That in and of itself should have been a big enough red flag for me to end the relationship. When you can no longer trust your partner without feeling the need to spy on them, there is a serious problem. What made it even worse for me was that he and I had had a conversation not even a week before about how I was having trust issues, and I thought we really needed to work on them. Instead, he was apparently planning dates with this other woman.

But in speaking of red flags, I have to kick myself for not minding the biggest one I've ever had in a relationship. Back in May, the first time I ever read his email account, I discovered that he and his friends had been saying really terrible things about me behind my back. We're talking name calling, body-bashing, downright hateful things. And yes, the Diplomat was not only allowing these conversations to take place, but participating in them.

I of course confronted him about what I had seen. He was horribly embarrassed (as well he should have been,) but more because I had found out about the behavior than the way he'd been acting in the first place. He apologized profusely, cried—the whole nine yards. And I forgave him. I chalked it up to a stupid decision on his part to try to impress his idiotic friends. I felt betrayed, yes, but I thought it was something we could move past.

Clearly, I was wrong. I realized how wrong I was when all I could think about were the things he'd said and my overwhelming desire to look at his email again to know if he was still doing it. That's why I was looking at his email last week, when I discovered him cheating.

I don't blame the other woman at all. He was lying to her just as much. In the emails I found, he carefully avoided mentioning me in any way. So the next day, after he and I broke up, I sent her an email. It said that I was not mad at her, but that I wanted her to know what was going on. I explained that I was almost certain that she had no idea I existed. She was kind enough to reply later that day to confirm my suspicions- her response said, “I am so sorry. I never would have gone out with him if I knew he had a girlfriend.”

With that one line, she confirmed everything I knew to be true. The Diplomat had been swearing that they were just hanging out as friends and that nothing had happened, and like most people who have just ended a relationship with someone they love, I wanted to believe him. Because of her response, though, I know he was lying to me. I don't know if anything happened between them. I don't want to know. But whether or not they ever got physical, he was cheating on me.

A little over a week later, I am still dealing with those feelings of betrayal. We'd had a trip planned for this weekend, which I am now taking alone. I also had a first date last night with someone new. Even so, it's still fresh and it still stings. I'm confident that each day, though, will be a little easier than the day before. It is that thought which is getting me through.

Friday pt 1- The Blues Man Falls from Grace

After staying up all night texting with the Blues Man, we decided to go out to breakfast. We live on opposite sites of town, so we met at a diner in the middle. That would have been a great idea, except that somehow we'd both forgotten it was Good Friday. Well actually, it's not surprising we'd forgotten, since neither of us is Catholic. But that's besides the point. The place was busy, but we still got a booth, sat down, and started talking.

Now, the Blues Man is Jewish, and it was during Passover. That meant no leavened bread for him. For those of you who don't know, leavened bread encompasses almost every type of bread there is- anything that's risen instead of being hard and flat like a cracker. So of course, I had to torture him by ordering banana pancakes. Mmm! When the waiter asked for the Blues Man's order, it was almost like a poorly written comedy sketch. “Cheese?” “No cheese.” “What kind of toast?” “No toast.”

Poor guy. Going to a diner during Passover must be like dying of thirst in the middle of the ocean.

We sat at that booth for three hours, talking about nothing and everything. We discussed religion, politics, gossip about our classmates- all those “taboo” topics that you're not supposed to touch. And surprisingly, we got along on almost all of them! It even turns out that we're studying different aspects of the same event!

Breakfast went so amazingly well that I jumped at the chance to continue it by going to his apartment to hang out. We ended up (no surprise) laying on his bed and making out while listening to music. It was a total throwback to high school, except for the part where you had to worry about your parents catching you. Ah, the joys of being an adult- ice cream for breakfast, pizza three times a week, and making out on your bed without fear of being in trouble. We're both huge flirts, though, so conversation quickly moved into doing something more than just making out.

After another couple hours of teasing, touching, and kissing, things started to progress. The Blues Man has a big, bushy, 1970s-style beard, which he had been telling me the night before is great for increasing certain, shall we say, pleasurable activities. I'm not going to insist that every man I date grow one, but I will admit, it added a nice dimension to things. You know how a bit of facial hair makes kissing more fun? Well apparently a lot of facial hair makes other types of kissing more fun, too.

I'm not ashamed to say that by this point, I was practically begging to get to the next step, but the Blues Man kept laughing and saying there was no rush. “True, but I still want it!” I told him. “I can't just give it all up without a fight,” he replied. A master at the teasing, this one.

I did finally get my way. It was great, except for the pillow talk afterwards. You see, he had failed to mention that he has a girlfriend.

I was pissed. Not only did he fail to tell me this before we hooked up, or even before we kissed, or even before he agreed to go on a date with me, when it would have been MOST important, he tried to play it off like it was no big deal. If she was on board with this kind of thing and I wasn't interested in actually dating him, just hooking up, I might not have minded so much. But I'd made it pretty clear from the start that I wasn't looking for just a friend with benefits.

The situation was made even worse by the fact that apparently his “lady-friend” didn't know that he was going to be dating anybody else. He said they'd recently had a conversation about them both being allowed to, but that he hadn't actually done it yet. And they hadn't broached the topic at all of sleeping with other people.

Understandably, the mood was shattered. I didn't stick around too much longer after that, and I started texting him on my way home. First and foremost, I said, he had to tell her what had happened. If she was okay with it, I'd love to keep seeing him, but I couldn't do it in secrecy. I truly believe that the only way to have a good relationship is to be completely upfront with everyone involved. That goes double when there are multiple partners in the picture. He agreed that he would, but I'll be honest, I wasn't sure.

I finally resorted to calling my best girl friend and asking what she thought. She told me that if he wasn't willing to tell his girlfriend what happened and to not do something like that again, he wasn't the kind of guy I want to date. She's absolutely right, of course. There's a fine line between polyamory and cheating, and it's crossed as soon as you enter into secrecy.