A dear friend once told me that he could look into a person’s eyes and tell if they were trustworthy.
He could tell I was trustworthy.
We spoke so openly, of so many things, I believed he was trustworthy too. But then it turned out his marriage wasn’t as open as he’d said*, that the promises he made to keep me were only good while his wife didn’t know about them.
Were all those blissful nights and days and weeks together worth it? Does the joy of 15 incredible months of feeling treasured and adored and loved-beyond-anything make up for the now 18 months I’ve spent working through the heartache?
And what sort of loser am I, that I can’t seem to let go?
*Disclaimer — he introduced me to his wife. I was foolish enough to not ask the right questions, because I thought she knew. He and I spent so much time together, how could she not? And he obviously loved her. Why would he risk their relationship with such a lie? She was lovely. So friendly — until she realised I was more than a friend to her husband. Then I get the blame, and he gets off scott free…
