These are the sweet words I whisper softly into Kit's ear, my arms wrapped around his neck as we slowly sway back and forth to Etta James' "At Last." We are attending our first wedding together and it feels amazing. I'm meeting his extended family for the first time and they couldn't be kinder. We are happy and in love and people keep asking how long we've been married. The reply varies. Sometimes we laugh and say five years. Sometimes we smirk and say we're newlyweds. Once Kit gave the guy a sly elbow, elbow, nudge, nudge and said it was our first date. When they find out we aren't really married, they shake their heads in disbelief. "But you guys are so CUTE together!" Yes. Yes we are.
Kit pulls me closer as I snuggle into his strong shoulders. I've never felt so safe in my life. I've never felt so protected, so adored, so absolutely loved. No other man has gotten all my walls to crumble, my guard to come completely down. In all my dating experience, I know for a fact that Kit is the man who will not let me down, will not hurt me, will go to the ends of the Earth to let me know I can trust him. Always.
And then *this* happened.
He arrives at 8:01 to pick up his stuff. I watch as he comes in the door, lifts a box, and carries it away. One FUCK YOU labelled box at a time, his possessions disappear out of my house and into a friend's car. They'll be taken far away from here, never to return again.
I am leaning against the counter sipping tea the entire time. I do not say one word to him. He does not say one word to me. Kit comes in. Box goes out. I sip tea.
The silence is deafening.
Within ten minutes, it's all gone. His collared shirts, his war hero books, his marble paperweight, his neon green running shoes, his concert posters, the stuffed teddy bears from his mother. All that's left in his hand are his pillows and with one hand on the door, he turns and looks at me with pleading eyes.
Kit: I didn't think you'd want to be here for this.
Me: You didn't think I'd want to be in my own house?
Kit: No, I didn't think you'd want to see me moving my stuff out.
Me: Absolutely I did. I wanted to make sure you took all your shit with you when you left. After tonight, I never want to see you again.
Me: Nope. Never. I have no use for a man who lies to me, who betrays my trust, who cheats on me.
Kit: I never cheated on you. NEVER.
Me: Excuse me? I read everything you wrote to her. I saw the messages about meeting up. I don't know if you ever did half the things you said you were going to do to her and frankly, it doesn't matter. You had every intention of fucking another woman behind my back and that is cheating.
Kit: It's not cheating. We aren't married.
Me: EXCUSE ME?!?!
This is when I lost my shit.
I have to tell you, I'd been pretty cool until then. I'd kept a level head and a calm voice. I'd been rational and poised and about as gracious as anyone could be. But "it wasn't cheating because we aren't married?" Oh. Hell. No.
Me: Really? So putting a ring on my finger will make you keep your dick in your pants? I don't think so. If you're cheating on me when we're dating, then you will cheat on me when we're engaged, you'll cheat on me when we're married, you'll cheat on me when we have kids. When does it end? It's not cheating because we aren't married? How about it's not cheating if it's in a different time zone? Or it's not cheating because I was wearing blue? Or it's not cheating because it's Thursday? Cheating is cheating, end of fucking story. And if you don't know that, if you don't understand that, if you don't see the hurt you've caused me and how you have ruined us then I CAN'T HELP YOU.
This was followed by lots more yelling from me and lots more arguing from him. There was no groveling, no apology, no begging for forgiveness. He defended himself because (and I quote) "I didn't think I was doing anything wrong."
More yelling. More tears. More wanting to beat his head in with a baseball bat. I went from 0 - 60 in 3.4 seconds. The voice screaming at him was no longer my own. It was an unrecognizable, animalistic voice full of hatred and hurt and fear and betrayal and expletive language that I do not use in everyday conversation. The cursing...ohhhhh the cursing!
It was at that moment that I realized Kit truly did not think he was in the wrong here. He genuinely believed beyond a shadow of a doubt that he hadn't cheated on me. He was not playing the victim - he honestly thought he was the victim of an unfair break-up. He didn't see his affair with Erica as the earth-shattering end of our relationship as I did because he didn't see it as an affair at all. To him, it was all a game, all a fantasy, all an escape from the real world. He turned to the her on the internet, hidden behind the safety of his computer where nothing was "real" - but I don't buy it.
I'm real. Our life together was real. Our relationship, our love, our plans to spend the rest of our lives together - that was all real. And he *really* fucked it up.
Kit lowered his face once more, looking up at me with big, sad eyes. He implored me to forgive him, take him back, give him one more chance, not to kick him out. He didn't want to go. He loved me, was in love with me, couldn't imagine life without me. And he knew that I was in love with him too.
He's right. I am. Which is why this hurt is so deep. Which is why the scar may never fully heal. Which is why I can't believe he would willingly destroy us from the inside, undermining every ounce of faith I had in him. Which is why he needed to go right then and there.
I don't know what deep well of strength I tapped into that gave me the courage to kick him out on his ass. I don't know how I managed to not break down in tears and tell him it was all going to be ok. I don't know where inside me the will power lived that held me back from flinging my arms around his neck, nuzzling my nose into his shoulders and begging him to stay. I don't know how I did it. I only knew I had to.
"Marry me someday." I'm such a fool.
***Update: You can read the entire ugly transcript here, published by Megan Marks - Erica & Kit***