In my observation, Pete and Repeat got in a boat. Pete jumped out. Who’s left?
Exactly.
Here I sit, a year after enduring the silence and the cleanup that came from 2021’s fiasco.
Did I learn anything? It would appear not, right?
I’m trying to replay the last year and a half of my life, and I’m having trouble reconciling how I let this happen twice. For that matter, how in God’s name did I even let it happen once?
I let you get it out. I let you be angry and dispel your fury onto me, as I was the one who unleashed your secret. But, let’s not forget, had you not been doing anything wrong, there would have been no story to tell.
I never blocked you. I’m a big kid. I can handle adult conversations.
Maybe that’s a lesson you could learn.
You told me you wonder if you’re punishing me this way because this is how she punished you last year. Well, maybe that’s true. The difference is — I didn’t fucking do anything wrong.
There is no reason to punish me, and there’s certainly no reason to treat me as though I’ve participated in a capital offense. You almost killed me. This time last year, I was low. This time this year, I was almost underground.
How does that feel? How does it feel to be you? To be someone so cruel…so cold…so unfeeling? How does it feel to be a monster?
Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.
I’d much rather be in my own skin. I’d much rather have my warm heart, kind soul, and all-too-feeling self to deal with. It might hurt sometimes, but I promise, I got the better end of the deal.
Remember last year, when you called me on my birthday? I remember it so clearly. I was sitting on my patio in Puerto Rico — the place I’d chosen to run the fuck away when you destroyed me. I went all by myself, made no plans, and hoped for the best. My phone rang. I saw your name on my screen. To reiterate — that’s because I never blocked you.
“Please don’t yell at me today. It’s my birthday. Can you save it until tomorrow?”
“I didn’t call to yell at you. I called to wish you a happy birthday.”
What a kind and very uncomfortable gesture from someone who told me I’d ruined his life for two months. What was I supposed to do with that?
Okay, so time goes by. And somehow, we reconnect as actual humans. I wish I could remember how, but I have no idea. It was just natural — just like our entire relationship has always been. By January, I was in Utica visiting you. You invited me to Brotherhood Night, and I was so nervous. But I was there. I remember watching you pace outside the front door when all the brothers were already inside, as though you weren’t sure how you’d react when you saw me.
Because neither of us knew how to react.
Within seconds, we were right back where we left off. It was magic. Fuck. Our relationship and our connection was so god damned strong. It was unlike anything most people will ever experience in their lives.
I was already one funeral deep this year at that point.
And then my grandpa died.
And then 2/22/22 happened.
You did everything a loving partner would do. In fact, you did far more. You went above and beyond, and when people found out how you were there for me, you were immediately welcomed into my greater family.
I was never welcomed into yours. In fact, you chose to force me to spend my first Thanksgiving without my brother alone because you weren’t willing to invite me to spend the holiday with your family.
Clearly, we can all see how this was an issue. Well, all of us but you. You seemed to think this was perfectly acceptable.
Through thousands of dollars of couples’ therapy, multiple trips across the country, three funerals, innumerable hours on the phone, and a couple of phenomenal vacations, we survived and we were always the couple everybody else wanted to be.
But you claim you never wanted me.
For the record, I call bullshit.
Here we are, a year after the last shit show, and here I sit — still mad as shit.
How the fuck did I let you do this to me again?
But this time, it was so much worse. Now I’m trauma-bonded to you. You know what that feels like, right? One would think you’d have a little more heart. And now we’ve been to another country together. Did you do that with your ex-bitch? Oh wait, you would have had to pay for her. That’s right, you could have had a pretty one waiting for you in Mexico, but those women expect you to pay (just as your ex would have). Instead, you were stuck with me because I could pay my own way.
Pete and Repeat got in a boat. Pete jumped out. Repeat clobbered him over the head with his oar to stop the madness.