In the end, the feel good was always temporary, and a little less each time. I cleaned up the thousands of half empty two year old beer bottles, I happily put on gloves and picked up and threw out his spent condoms from his hundreds of past partners, I tossed a few hundred sex toys hidden in the coffee table, under his couch, in his beer cartons, and under his bed. I was not happy about the situation, but I was determined to make a positive impact on him during the short bursts of time that I had with him.
Who’s the enabler now, Lucy?
I wanted him to know what it was like to come home to his house, where there wasn’t a stench of dried cum, moldy beer, and dirty dishes soaking into the walls. I have my own house, and I know depression well. If I’m going to make an impact on anyone, I want above all, for it to be a good one. I know what struggle is like, and I did a lot of it to myself, but in my situations, when I was truly alone, I got myself out of it. I was the perfect antidote.
As much as you deride the long term girlfriend for being an enabler, from all that you’ve written you enabled him much more than she did. When you find yourself throwing out used condoms and tossing away sex toys… I don’t even have words for this. Everything you’ve accused the long-term girlfriend of you are guilty of yourself, multiplied by infinity.
You were not a positive example, or a “perfect antidote”. You were being used. You were the perfect appliance. You were the perfect whipping girl. You were just too delusional to see it. Because sparks.
As I helped him, his skin brightened up, he seemed happier, he told me he loved me, but the lying and cheating continued.
I began to get fed up. Four months in, on our most recent decision to get back together, I got hard proof of the other women. I addressed the problem to him, showed him evidence that I knew everything, and provided him a safe space to come clean in.
Hard proof of other women? Girl, where have you been? You knew there were other women because he had a long-term girlfriend. Who the hell did you think he was using the sex toys on? Himself? Did he use a condom to masturbate?
Thankfully, you provided him a safe space in which to come clean. That’s the number one reason most liars don’t ‘fess up. Lack of a safe space. Maybe we should round them up and drop them off at fire stations. Then the truth could come pouring out like manna from Heaven.
The number two reason they don’t ‘fess up? They’re liars.
Though he became transparent and willing to compromise with me on most things, he still stood by his longest secret… the main girl.
Wow- he was transparent and willing to compromise on most things. Like, he was willing to tell you how much he could bench press or how he really felt about Grey’s Anatomy’s newest storyline, or if he really liked your pot roast, but he wasn’t quite willing to stop fucking other women? Gotta draw the line somewhere. He is positively opaque when it comes to the other women!
Lucy, she is not a secret. She never was. You admitted you knew about her but ignored her existence from the very beginning. She was his whipping girl, remember? You tried so hard to give her clues and get her to recognize her self-worth.
A week later I gave him one last chance to come clean, and he didn’t take it, so during that one night he spent with her, I walked in on him and her. I was respectful, got my things that I had purposely left at his house, calmly sat down next to her and told her about the other women, waved goodbye, and left.
Well aren’t you just a sweetheart! That’s so thoughtful of you to let her know about all the other women. I’m sure there was no hidden agenda.
He tried to make it work with the main girl, but she enabled him, so he began to cheat again. I went no contact again.
She enabled him so he cheated. You didn’t enable him (in your mind) and he still cheated. Maybe the problem isn’t her so much as it is him. And you, because you keep making excuses for him.
Then, to my surprise, he broke things off with her, he decided to work on himself, and realized that he no longer wanted to lead a life of risky promiscuity, and coping through vices.
I love a happy ending. <eye roll>