Last night, right after I published my blog post, One Ball sent me a message. Just word one: “Hey.”
I replied with the same one word, and then he asked how my evening was going, and then I bit the bullet and asked him if he would like to go out and get something to eat with me. I feel like I should give him a chance to explain himself before I kick him to the kerb, although I was still fairly certain that I was going to kick him to the kerb. A long conversation with Bestie has resulted in one niggling feeling: I was still being lied to. I just couldn’t work out if it was because he’d already lied to me about really big things, or if I genuinely believed he was still lying to me.
We met up and went for dinner, and then we went to a local park to sit and talk, where we ended up staying until well after the sun had gone down. It was close to 11 pm by the time we actually left, spending our time kissing and talking, laughing and running around, playing on the swings and acting like immature teens. It was nice. Relaxed. Almost like we didn’t have that big lie hanging over us … but we had to talk about it at some point. So, we did.
He explained why he’d lied to me: he was scared that I wouldn’t be able to deal with his complicated past. He thought I’d run a mile if I heard about his past relationship history, and he wanted to get to know me more, to see if we’d head in the direction he wanted us to before he told me about them. The longer we dated, the more he panicked, and then he couldn’t get himself out of the lie.
It felt like I should be honest in return, so I told him that I needed an easy relationship. It couldn’t be complicated. I have been through too much pain, experienced more things than I should’ve done at my age, to fuck about with a guy that wasn’t worth it. I told him how sad I get when things don’t go right, and how my self-harming had been a recurrent problem throughout my life. I was scared too. I thought he would walk away once I’d bared my soul, but he didn’t. He took my face in his hands and he kissed me.
“That’s your past,” he said, “I like you for exactly the person you are right now, troubles and all!”
That sentence made me melt. He didn’t judge me, he didn’t berate me for hiding some of my past from him. He just understood, and he still wanted me. I have to be sensible about this though, right? He lied to me. Not just once. He lied to me a few times.
So what does this mean? Should I give him a chance regardless of the lies? I guess when you think about it, the lies don’t matter to me all that much. I don’t see his kids. I don’t see his exes. They live far enough away from me that they won’t ever really cause me problems in a face-to-face setting. The only problem I am going to have with them is that they’ll take away the time I have with him sometimes, and maybe that’s okay? I still feel the same way for him: mostly sure, but not quite sure. But if he can accept my past, maybe I can accept his?
In reality, I think I’ve already made up my mind. I think I’m going to give him another chance. We’ll continue on as normal. Bestie’s pissed, of course. He thinks I’m making a terrible mistake. And hasn’t he been right about every other douschebag before? Am I really a glutton for punishment and bad men, or am I just fair in believing that everyone deserves a second chance … and maybe a third or fourth?
Time will tell, I suppose …