How My Man Cheated on Me … and It Was a Good Thing
Relationships have always felt like my own personal hell. The minute I “fall” for a guy, it is as if I am literally falling down a giant hole not unlike Alice in Wonderland. There are times when I’m sipping off the “drink me” cup feeling inflated by love (occasionally vodka) and am deserving of the man I am with. On the flip side, sometimes I get the “Eat Me” muffin and I’m all but 5 mm tall and trying not to get crushed by the “normal size” and “secure” people around me.
Last year I got served a muffin on a platter wrapped in plastic cellophane and a ribbon. My boyfriend, Gianni, had cheated on me.
At that time we had been together for three years and living together for one. Our relationship had never been stable. For one, Gianni was a gifted guitar player and so girls were naturally coming at him from all angles: approaching him at shows like sex zombies, spilling into his Facebook feeds, knocking down the walls of his Instagram. Pair that with my extensive resume of daddy issues, trust issues, budding alcoholism…having issues was like my unique gift, but somehow my gift did not elicit a fan base. Contrary, it seemed to repel people which just made me lash out more on Gianni. Our initial manic and exciting six month courtship made way for reality and soon enough the demon bus I’d been holding off pulled up to the front of the…
