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Clarification and Confession

Earlier today I posted several messages on Twitter about a relationship between myself and the person known as @michbek. I was terse, concise and not overly damning – at least in my eyes anyway.

I just wanted to clear a few things up because it is only fair that I give the whole story – I am, after all, not a wholly innocent party and to act otherwise would be an hypocritical act of the highest order.

I met Michele (@michbek) on Twitter. It was a random suggestion made by a person who thought our similar grumpy tweets and love of all things Mystery Science Theatre 3000 would make each other a good follow. Truth be told it did. We got on like a house on fire that very night (burning, choking, people running away screaming etc etc). Somehow that turned to feelings, in the way that only internet relationships do and we began talking outside of Twitter; emails, msn and then even phone calls. I don’t think I need to go into any details, but it is the way how any proper relationship starts and it was good.

We both were getting something out of it we needed and we had met people who understood each other. Our friendship had grown into something more. Something like love. Yes, love. I remember the first time she told me she loved me and it suddenly dawned on me then, at that moment, that I loved her too. I feel stupid in hindsight, because I knew what the feeling was – I just hadn’t named it. Naming it made it real, solid, words made flesh. Thus began a long-distance love affair.

And an affair it was because Michele was/is married. I don’t know her  husband, I know of him and a bit about him and I know he is a good man. He is a good father and a good husband but he wasn’t what Michele wanted/needed. She just wanted a bit more – and I’m NOT talking about fucking around on the side. Sometimes you just get a feeling in your soul that there is something missing from your soul and you either live out the rest of your life with that feeling of something missing inside you or you find that thing and be happy. It’s not his fault and not exactly her fault either. The heart wants what it wants. Such a trite saying, I know, but it doesn’t make it any less true for being a hallmark card sentiment.

So I am a bastard cunt. No two ways about it. I was more than prepared to steal this woman away from a really nice bloke for my own selfish needs. Seriously, I’d started saving up a plane ticket and been looking at jobs in the Florida area. Oddly, there are more British theme pubs and ex-pats in Florida than you may think. My other option was to go and work for a friend just outside of Boston and somehow make it down the coast to see her. Either way, I wanted to have her as mine – not his. One thing I did say is that if my involvement with her led to trouble between the two of them or with their two daughters, I would back away because it was one thing to fuck around with my life and my family, but another thing to fuck around with someone else. Hey, I might be a bastard, but I’m not a total bastard.

So we talked and we got on and then I ended up flipping out a little. People from Twitter will know the rough story. My depression escalated, frustrations and anger got worse, I went fucking nuts at my doctor’s surgery and I was taken to hospital. Thanks to my nice doctor, I was set up with St Clements, the local ‘psychiatric care facility’ – can you say ‘nuthouse’, children? – on a weekday basis and at weekends I got to go home, see the cats, tweet, read my comics and call Michele. Then came another mental event where I thought one of the caregivers was hurting a patient and I tried to stop him.

Something inside of me snapped and I lost it.

Not quite Jack Nicholson in Cuckoo’s Nest, but I did end up being sedated and spending time in one of the quiet rooms. So I was in for about a month, then came out for a couple of weekends before I even thought about firing up the laptop and making contact with people. When I did make contact, I found a few conversational tweets which informed me that Michele and Michael had announced their plans to divorce on Twitter, it wasn’t a joke and they were still friends etc. Fuck me. I openly admit, I smiled, I laughed, I nearly did a little jig. Ok, being the son of divorced parents, I wouldn’t wish it on people, nor would I wish it on children, but the thought that I had fought through this dark month to come out and win this woman was an epic moment.

Then came the day that Michele told me that she had left Michael for another man. Another man who wasn’t me.

I was stunned is somewhat of an understatement – if you’ve ever seen the end of Kung Fu Hustle when the toad dude gets hit by the Buddhist Palm, that’s the kind of impact I’m talking about. But I accepted it. I admitted that I loved her and I wanted her to be happy so if this other fella made her happy, I would step back and go for it. I was hurting, but we tried to be friends. We chatted, we knock ed a couple of story ideas around, tried to get back in to the old swing of things. Then I saw a few of her tweets about an unnamed guy and her being happy and the knife twisted so I unfollowed because it hurt too much to read them. Unfortunately human nature got the better of me and I missed her so I read a few more and I worked out who this guy was. He was another guy she had met on Twitter and also from the UK.

That was the penultimate straw. I mean, if it had been a bloke from work or someone from her writer’s circle of friends in the States, it would have made it that little bit easier to understand – no. A LOT easier actually. But some guy from the UK? Unacceptable. That’s when other things clicked into place – it couldn’t have just happened in the month I was offline, it wasn’t a newfound thing. This must have been going on before I went away and been going on at the same time that she was telling me she loved me and wanted to be with me. So certain other things clicked and naturally I got angry. I sent her messages and told her that no matter what she said/says, I could no longer that she truly loved me if she was also going along with the other guy. Obviously I couldn’t act too much like the jaded fool, because I had also been the other guy in relation to her and her husband. However, as much as I didn’t like her, I still loved her and I told her that I didn’t really want to talk to her or have anything to do with her, she had hurt me when I was extremely vulnerable and that was not on. I knew she had gotten some grief off a few people on twitter so I promised not to say anything to anyone about us so as not to compound things further. A few people did ask why we weren’t having our usual battle of wills/wits/words which we were famous for on Twitter but most questions were deflected.

I went on like this for a few weeks. I told people I had been done wrong by a woman but told no details because I needed some emotional support from someone. I finally told a couple of people the truth because having this pain all to myself was nigh unbearable. The support was great, but evidently not enough. You see, the dam broke last night when I happened to see one of her messages retweeted. It went like this:

“First of May. And what I want is an ocean away. Something’s wrong with this picture. ;p “

Pretty innocuous to most people, an innocent comment about her new lover and how she missed him. (Of course, everyone on twitter knows about this guy and what is happening between them, he is not the shameful, little secret I was) but what really got me was the unoriginality of what she said. This was in itself quite surprising because Michele is actually a talented writer but she was repeating (apart from the ‘First of May’ bit) something she told me – pretty much exactly word for fucking word. It got to me last night. A mixture of tiredness, medication, loneliness and going so long burdened with this pain made the dam burst wide open, which is why today, Sunday morning, I decided to tell the people of Twitter exactly how I felt and why.

This simple act of telling a couple of people (because most of you drunken fuckers were sleeping off hangovers) was such a relief to me I have felt good all the damn day. A weight has been lifted off my shoulders and I feel vindicated. I could have waited until later on when America was awake and online and our mutual followers saw for full effect, but it wasn’t about getting my own back, it was about me letting something out that was bubbling up inside me and I feel GOOD for letting it out.

The whole purpose of this blog, isn’t about getting one back over Michele and this guy. It’s not about dragging Michael through more shit, because I do feel sorry for the pain that I know I caused him. Sorry, let me explain, I have this theory that I was first and I showed Michele something. Something she was missing and wanted and I opened a door for her into a bright new place and she wanted to walk through it. In fact, she IS walking through it – just not with me. So I sincerely do believe that if I hadn’t started something, she would not have considered divorce and they would still be together. So yes, I feel guilty for Michael and for the girls and responsible, in part, for what is happening to them. The purpose of this blog is to clarify a few things. I am not making Michele out to be a big bad and totally at fault for everything because she is not. It’s like I said before – the heart wants what it wants and her heart didn’t really want me.

So that’s that. I still hurt, but nowhere near as much as I did before. I will be changing my maudlin, yet highly appropriate, avatar later and being a bit more upbeat. It really does feel good to get things off your chest sometimes.

Coming up next, to completely alter the mood, will be a blog about me baking cakes for a babyshower and hopefully some nice photos. Seriously.

Thanks for sticking around for nearly , shit – 2000 words. I will be back online later and also kicking this tentacle girl story’s ass.

  1. @SecretBliz
    May 2, 2010 at 15:57

    God you a good writer! I’m sorry for your pain. I know it may seem heartless but pain makes for stronger creativity. Those who don’t know pain, have a harder time expressing themselves with any depth. The more I opened up in these past two years the better I became at expressing myself and I continue to improve because I’m no longer numb and I’m feeling a bunch of emotions that hurt. Some of my writing is shite because I don’t yet fully understand myself in a particular area but I continue exploring.

    One more thing, no one can break up a relationship except the two who are in it. She’s the one that decided what she wanted to do with her marriage – if she decided she wanted to make it work there is nothing you could have done. I understand why people get angry at the other man or woman but when your marriage fails it is either because of you or your partner…not the world of temptation that we all face every single fucking day. We either decide we’re going to be loyal or we decide we’re going to be selfish. In to today’s narcisstic age I think loyalty is a rare commodity…in fact I struggle to say it really exists at all.

    Nope, I lied. There is one more thing. If she is constantly “falling in love” with men who are an ocean away I think she may have a problem with close relationships. She likes the distance – there is less responsibility and accountability. I suspect she’ll have a hard time holding on to a long-term, face-to-face relationship with anyone. Because you’re still in Britain you’ve cut your losses on this one – I’m not convinced you would have been able to make it work long-term with someone like this. It isn’t important, just an observation.

    Embrace your pain and let it become part of who you are. You are a fascinating man and I am delighted to have you as one of my friends.

    *big polar bear hug*


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