Dusting Off

The recovery effort is going well so far.  I got the crap out of my system, did my crying, talked my friends’ ears off, went out and got drunk, and met some new guys.  One in particular will have a nice tale to tell his grandkids about the time he met a Black woman at a pub who asked if he thought his wife could kick her ass.

I also almost picked up another taxi driver, but that’s not going to go anywhere.  It was flattering though.  So my ego is repaired even though the betrayal still has me feeling like I swam in sewage for three months.

My heart is still on the floor though.  In all my life, nobody ever said all those things to me who didn’t mean it.  A few have loved me and tried to pretend they didn’t, and in hindsight, some may have pretended to love me but not said it because they knew they were just pretending…but nobody ever went beyond the “I love you” to the ways, reasons, and professions of undying love, who wasn’t serious.  This is all new stuff for me, and I have to admit to being a bit rattled by it.

Nobody in my life has ever held me close and whispered in my ear when I was crying, “You are safe with me,” and not been telling the truth.  I am not so pretty or so rich or so anything that anybody has ever felt the need to lie to me so badly.

I honestly don’t know what to do with this.  I don’t know what to do with the memories.  I don’t know really how to feel except angry and frightened.  I don’t know what to feel about him except hate because I can’t think of any reason he would do this to me except hate.

In time I suppose I will get past this as I’m pretty sure nothing like this will ever happen to me again.  Unless some halo has appeared over my head that makes me look like I’m 20 and that guys have to profess undying love to get into my pants because my vagina squirts ambrosia of the Gods or something, it is very unlikely someone would go this far just to crush me again.

It’s just…that this could ever happen to me once has me wondering if I’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone.  It’s just too weird.  It’s a nightmare.


My pronouns are whatever you're comfortable with as long as you speak to me with respect. I'm an Afruikan and Iswa refugee living in Canaan. That's African American expat in Israel in Normalian. I build websites, make art, and assist people in exercising their spirituality. I'm also the king of an ile, Baalat Teva, a group of African spirituality adherents here. Feel free to contact me if you are in need of my services or just want to chat.

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  • You’ve read the article, now get the t-shirt! :-D