Untangled 10: Rose colored glasses

Up until that point, it never occurred to me that some 40-year-old men still cheat. My rose-colored glasses shattered as I stood there watching him text someone else. I didn’t know what to say, so I quietly backed out as if I hadn’t seen him. He came out of my bedroom and said he had to make a run to his mom’s house. I said nothing because my mind was racing. I knew I had to confront him, argue, and dramatically break up with him. Isn’t that what you do when you catch someone cheating? lol. I was all set for the confrontation when I heard his key in my front door two hours later. He walked in holding the most beautiful, fragrant peach roses I had ever seen. He even cooked me crab legs for dinner, despite him being allergic to them. How could I stay mad? Maybe he was texting someone else, or maybe he was just reading an email. 

That’s when I realized the delusion of a woman in love. He had started off lying to me, and to keep things going, I began lying to myself as well. 

After dinner, I casually mentioned seeing him in the closet on his phone. He said, “Oh, that was my cousin. She sent me a YouTube video.” To prove his point, he opened Facebook Messenger to show me the message. I didn’t know what I was looking for because all I saw was a screen *full* of women! He hurried to open the message, but it was too late. I went *ballistic*. I had already seen the whole list of women he was messaging. 

He tried to defend himself. “I have female friends, I have cousins, I have a daughter, and she has friends! You can’t tell me I can’t have friends just because *you* don’t! I don’t have to take this—I’ll leave.” He grabbed his giant duffle bag, threw it in the middle of my floor, and started packing his clothes. I went to my bedroom and shut the door. I was determined to let him leave. A weight was lifting off my shoulders. The thought of going back to church and getting back to me was exhilarating.

I didn’t recognize the person I had become, but I knew I didn’t like her. Two hours passed, and I hadn’t heard anything. I opened my bedroom door, peeked out, and saw him asleep on my couch, surrounded by a floor full of clothes. I didn’t wake him or say anything—I just went to bed, dreading the next day. When I woke up, I got dressed for work without saying a word. I told him to leave my key under the mat when he left. He didn’t respond. When I got home from work, he was still in my apartment, but the clothes were put away. He had done all my laundry, cooked, and cleaned.

My stomach dropped, knowing it would be hard to tell someone to leave after they’d just done your laundry. I tried anyway. I said, “Look, this isn’t working. We never discussed living together, but here you are, living for free. I don’t shack up. This isn’t me, and I don’t like my daughter seeing this. I’m sorry, but you have to go.” 

He replied, “I don’t know why nobody wants me.” That one sentence broke my heart and my resolve. I apologized for not considering his feelings. We had a short, surface-level heart-to-heart about his emotions—not mine, of course. I told him we could start over under the condition that he be honest. He said he would.

A few days before Christmas, he came in with a small bag from a jewelry store. My stomach flipped. I wasn’t excited; I was scared that he was about to pop the question, but I knew I couldn’t say yes—not after the left turn this thing took just a few weeks prior. He handed me the bag, sat on the couch, and started playing a game on his phone. In the bag was a ring box.