If I had just one tear rolling down your cheek...

My hurt, my anger, has reached its zenith. I will allow no more. I had believed there was something that could be saved, something worth working for. I strove to be heard. I strove to be important to him. I strove to be real. I’ve come to the conclusion that all the times he said that he thought I hated him, he actually hoped…wanted me to hate him. That would make it so much easier to eliminate me from his life. That would make me and all the tender feelings he’s had toward me something of his past that he would no longer have to deal with. It would also enable him to step into the role of victim. “Poor guy. Lost his best friend just because he wanted to find love…” Or, “Poor guy. He’s hated by someone he cares deeply for.” It isn’t that easy, though. I loved him in spite of my hurt. I loved him in spite of the betrayal. I believed in him and the relationship we’d spent three years in building. I believed in his humanity, his gentleness, his good heart. There is nothing more to believe in. Had I mattered in the least, there is no way he would have pulled this stunt. There is no way he would have wanted and created this unfortunate circumstance.

A couple of weeks ago, I learned that a semi-local cover band I love would play this weekend at a nearby venue. My best friend and I discovered them last winter and have since caught every local performance, as well as encouraging our friends to see them. The last time they came to town, the SoHB attended and was impressed with them. (As a side note, I remember him acting a little strangely that night. I now know that he had started seeing his new girlfriend around that time.) A few other friends also came and enjoyed themselves. When I found out they were returning, I sent out an e-mail letting all of those friends, plus the ones who missed them before, know about the performance. The SoHB was a part of the mailing list. I saw no reason to exclude him, although I didn’t anticipate enjoying his company if he came. Originally, he responded that he hoped to go, since he liked them so well, but in an IM conversation last Friday, he said he didn’t know if he’d be able to make it. I’ve been rather hacked off with him lately due to the conversation about what he might have me to do if our roles were reversed. He had promised to think on it, but has, in effect, made no more effort to sustain our friendship than ever. My response to his wavering commitment was to say, “Okay. I won’t look for you.” I felt certain his hesitancy was due to plans with his girlfriend. He’s been more noticeably absent lately. If that was the reason, I certainly didn’t want to see him.

The drama began as soon as we arrived, but it wasn’t my drama. As soon as we approached the bar we saw my best friend’s ex- was there with his friends. It could be the beginning of an awkward evening, but I was proud of Rachel*. She handled it well, considering it was the first time she’d seen him since ending the relationship. He had strung her along much like the SoHB had done with me. She did well, that is, until she learned that her ex- had brought a date. She was poised, but had difficulty composing herself. She was the one who had introduced him to this band. He knew she would be there. It was one thing for him to come at all, but showing up with a girl on his arm knowing how it would hurt her was callous. When another of our friends arrived later, I conferred with her over how we needed to watch over Rachel. She can get volatile when she’s drinking.

The band kicked off to a raring start. They had a much larger crowd than last time. Word must have gotten around. I was disappointed that more of my friends didn’t show, and I hated the situation for Rachel, but we danced and genuinely enjoyed ourselves. It was the first time our other friend had seen this band, so I was pleased to see she was getting into the groove at the very first song. After about an hour, over my shoulder I heard Rachel say something like, “There’s ___. (gasp) Oh my gosh…” I turned to look at him coming in, but knew at her gasp that my worst fear was coming true. In he strides, the SoHB, walking behind his new girlfriend with his hand on her shoulder. I only take a glance, and then move up in the crowd so he won’t pass right in front of me. I act as though I haven’t seen him. I am pretending for the sake of my own enjoyment more than the sake of saving face. I sense he has stopped behind me to greet my friends, and glance over my shoulder to see the back of his. Next thing I know, he has moved on. He didn’t even speak to me, which is good. I didn’t want him to. As soon as he is gone, Rachel approaches and hugs me. I can’t remember what she said as an attempt at comfort. I didn’t want to be comforted. I wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened, that I hadn’t seen her. I had told him I didn’t want to see her or ever meet her. I wanted to enjoy the band. This was supposed to be our night… mine and Rachel’s night to enjoy.

I found myself zoning out during the songs. I would be dancing, then suddenly realize I had drifted off into my own thoughts. I couldn’t escape it. I couldn’t escape the knowledge that he was indeed here and with her. I couldn’t believe he brought her there knowing I would be there and would be hurt. As I thought on it, I became indignant. He had told me he was uncertain about coming. Not only was he aware I would be there, he knew of the performance due to MY e-mail only … due to MY invitation. There was so much cold cruelty about it. I tried putting it out of my mind. I wanted to make it through until the band’s first break. I thought they would never break.

The situation made me tense. I ordered a drink, but ended up handing it to Rachel. I had to go outside, get away from it, for a while. A guy, a sweet Connecticut Yankee, chatted me up while I stood there. It made me feel a little validated. His opener was about how I looked so sad. I didn’t go into my story immediately, but I eventually told him how my ex-boyfriend showed up with his new girlfriend. He fed me lines about how beautiful I was, and how most any guy there would love my attention. Maybe they weren’t lines. He sounded so sincere. I’d like to believe what he said anyway. We parted ways when the band started playing again. Getting away from it had been a wise move, but the tension never truly departed. It was official. My night was ruined. I wanted to leave, but couldn’t allow him that victory.

Later in the evening, I encounter Rachel and Andrew* talking at the bar. Andrew is a friend of Rachel’s ex-boyfriend, a nice guy I had come to know only recently. He lends a sympathetic ear to Rachel’s plight. As I wait at the bar, Rachel and Andrew finish their conversation, and his attention turns to me. This could be awkward. The first time (and last time) we met, we ended up making out in public despite his approaching wedding day. Here he was, friend of Rachel’s ex-boyfriend, accompanied by his new bride. Play it cool, Kwirk. Play it cool. I greet him casually. He, like the Yankee, comments on my sad countenance. I explain that I find myself in the same situation as Rachel. At his request, I point out the offending bloke. I think Andrew may have said something in effort to be soothing or boost my morale. I can’t remember. For when I looked over at the SoHB, I noted his girlfriend had obviously stepped away to the restroom. An idea came to mind. I turn to Andrew and say, “Watch this.” With resolute purpose, I approach the SoHB. He’s unaware of me until I pull out his shirt-front and pour my drink, a whole rum & Coke, down his chest. I don’t see his reaction. I simply turn and walk back to the bar to re-order my drink. I think that wasted rum & Coke was the best money I ever spent.

I thought he would leave immediately out of physical discomfort. I was dismayed that he didn’t. Maybe my stunt had no effect. Maybe my drunken aim had missed its mark. He had been standing. Maybe I poured the drink into the open air between his shirt and chest, so very little actually touched him. As I closed out my tab much later, I stole glances at them. They were closing their tab as well. She went to bar for it. I was surprised and strangely comforted to notice how plain she is. I couldn’t even call her cute. That is surprising for him. At the time, I thought it odd that she would be getting their tab, but I realize today it must have been an effort to save face. He stood with his drenched crotch safely concealed behind their table. I returned to the stage, so I didn’t see them leave. Rachel made out briefly with a 21-year-old, so her night ended well. I just wanted to escape. Everything had been too traumatic. Neither one of us should have driven, but we made it safely back to my house. She stayed over to sleep it off. We cried and huddled together.

I don’t understand why things had to take such a terrible turn in our relationship. I never asked the world of him, just a little consideration. I would have tried remaining friends despite the pain if he had treated me decently. He said he wanted to remain friends, but he obviously didn’t want to make the effort. And my feelings for him have been nothing more than inconvenient to him since he’s been dating this girl, as were his feelings for me when they started dating. I didn’t think I would have to lose him entirely. I’m devastated anew with every nail he drives into the coffin. I’m so devastated to realize that he doesn’t care, not in the least.

* = Names have been changed to protect those whom I like.