I know B.
The universe brought it all together. Some form of karma.
We spoke in depth about everything. I know everything I always wondered. I was surprised but not too much. She was more surprised. We mutually discovered the timeline of when you knew me and what you were feeding to both of us at various points in time.
Everything was to protect yourself, we realized. And not smart.
We talked for a long time.
You knew we were in the same community, even close circles. You probably knew it could happen. I guess you counted on it staying hidden.
It wasn’t wise. That didn’t work out for you. You should have been honest.
She was upset and I was upset, but we weren’t upset with each other. We had empathy for each other and we both realized it was all on you. When all was said and done, we swore each other to secrecy. We promised each other that you will never directly know what we know. Or even that we know.
She’ll never tell, I’ll never tell. If you ask, we will deny to the end. We promised. We keep our word. This is how we get our power back. And keep it.
You tried to keep your secrets. It didn’t work out for you. Never underestimate the power of women talking to each other.
I left this out there because it could have been true. I really considered it. But it’s partly fiction. I do know who she is, but I never spoke to her.
I can imagine how stressed you’d be to ever think we did compare notes. I mean, you would deserve it, but I just couldn’t meddle.
I hate that you lied to me even once (which you admitted), that I know there’s way more despite your unbelievable claims about the fact you were honest all the time. But not so much I’d actually do this kind of thing.
I guess unintentionally I demonstrated to myself how bad half-truths or lies can make others feel (just by saying this as if I would have to you, and thinking through the consequences of how you’d feel to be “found out” or to not really know what’s real and have to live with that nagging), how it can mess with their minds and is just plain selfish. It would have been somewhat self-interested of me to actually talk to her. In reality I never could.
I’m not sure if this kind of thing would even inflict that much psychological discomfort on someone who lies a lot. Maybe it would be a relief to them that they don’t have to keep up the facade anymore and since they already don’t respect themselves it won’t motivate them to change but they’d just keep running away from it and avoid the people who “know” because it’s all they know how to do. And they’re afraid of facing the truth. Weak, I guess.
You’re lucky I wouldn’t do this, because it’s true that women do talk. I know of so many situations. We get so hurt and angry when guys do things like what you did, and most of the time your lies come back to bite you. Because if you’ve already lied at all, w’re not going to trust what you say and may go to great lengths to uncover things elsewhere. And I’ve seen cases where guys have played tons of women and it gets out there, and believe me it’s not something they want to have to live with day in and day out because these ladies tend to ensure that all other women are warned and know the truth.
I just don’t care enough to do that. It’s not worth my energy. I left the past in the past. I don’t care anymore about who you cared about when or what you were doing, as I’d never want someone’s love that was ever so shallow. It’s just not appealing to me.
The thing that always bothered me was the dishonesty because that gets under my skin so much in general. I mean, everyone lies sometimes. It’s human. But doing so consciously and deliberately and letting it persist for years and not doing anything about it, that’s what irritates me.
I wrote this fictional letter, and even an anonymous half truth you’d 99% never see was not okay with me, not something I feel good leaving out there.
That’s me, you’re you, and the two will never mix.
PS – Clear to me I need to let this go. You lied. Not shocking. Not that unique of a thing to experience. I shouldn’t be thinking about it anymore. It’s off my chest now. Time to stop giving it the time of day.