you're dead as dead can be.
it amazes me that one tiny, seemingly insignificant dream can change everything. (pardon the cliché):
you were at my work, in the backroom. i asked you where you were living these days. you said "alabama." [i guess maybe i've been a little worried about running into you today.] it seemed as if we weren't angry with each other anymore. that we'd both had enough hindsight to be civil to each other. a question churned in my stomach. i mustered the strength and asked you: "how long were you cheating on me?" you smiled. that all-knowing smile, as if you realized your actions were a mistake. maybe 'all-knowing' isn't appropriate. semi-apologetic. "i was sleeping with momma," you said. i know what you meant. you meant that girl, stacy (i still remember her name), who may or may not have had your child. and there was an indication there that you were still with her.
if i only knew then what i know now.
my alarm went off, and i hit the snooze button. i lay awake, face-up on my bed, my muddled brain trying to remember and decifier all of the dreams i had. that seemingly tiny, insignificant dream came forward.
i got up, trudged down to the garage, cursing myself inwardly for forgetting to move the soda to the kitchen, grabbed a pop, and headed out to the porch for my morning smoke. i sat curled up on the chair, puffing and chugging, and all of a sudden, a realization came upon me. maybe it was the nicotine. maybe it was the caffeine. maybe it was the heat. but mostly, i think it was just an epiphany. two or so years of gathering information, trying to categorize it in my mind, and failing at finding any conclusions suddenly came to a head on the porch.
many people in my life have had their hypotheses. and many of them were right on some level. but when this thought passed through my mind, i realized that those hypotheses were only a piece of the puzzle. a small (or large) pebble in the grand mosaic.
i shall present my evidence, and lay my case out for you, even though i know you're not going to tell me if i'm right. i don't think you even realize this.
here is my "duh" realization: you are a good person. you have a good heart, deep down. you DO want to do the right thing. but you lack the responsibility and selflessness to partake in the well-known humble pie.
you made a responsibility to the military. that's a big responsibility. one many of us could not handle, regardless of our ideologies. you grew up in a broken home, with two completely different families, with two completely different sets of morals. your father was quite absent from your life, and you've spent your adulthood trying to create a bond that should've been made in childhood. that might explain why you try so hard to please him. whenever we were with him, or his side of the family, you told me not to swear, smoke, or say anything off-color (or, god forbid, liberal). you tried to portray me as someone that i am not. i am a smoker, let me smoke. i don't believe in censoring myself completely for the sake of other people, let me swear. i am a liberal, and this is fucking america (the country with freedoms that you, yourself, spend your life 'trying to protect'), let me be a liberal.
here's the other thing. that big other thing. that other thing that basically caused everything to circle the drain. you cheated on me. you know you did. there was no blackout. you knew what you were doing. i'm willing to bet a lot of money that you have an addiction to sex that you can't get a grasp on. you knew what was happening, but you didn't know how to stop. and, my mother is right, you didn't want to hurt me. so, you kept it to yourself. you figured you would try again. that sometimes you have to fail, first, in order to succeed. what caitlyn don't know don't hurt her, right?
then, you found out she was pregnant. you sat on that information for three weeks. finally, when you came home, you decided that you had to tell me. that this was something that wouldn't just go away. so, you told me most of the truth. a warped version of it. somehow, in that mind of yours, you figured it didn't matter how you knew or if you remembered, the important thing was that you were telling me the truth. well, that i knew the basics. here are the basics: you cheated on me. and she may be pregnant with your child.
what you didn't realize was that the details were the important thing. that it didn't necessarily matter as much, in comparison, the end result. everything is about intention. or maybe you did realize this. maybe you knew that if i knew the intentions, it would be over. if i knew you were present and accounted for when you fucked her, i wouldn't have tried to forgive you.
partial truth doesn't set you free, tony.
one of the worst things about coming out of a bad, unhealthy relationship is what it makes you think about yourself. after our relationship was really over, i was afraid my judgement was off. that i couldn't see you for what you really were. looking back, i did. i could see it. but i was lying to myself. i was trying to save myself from pain. my intuitive little brain could see past all the bullshit, and i didn't want to listen, which is why i just wouldn't let go of it. why i couldn't move on. why i couldn't forgive you. how can i forgive you if i don't have all the facts?
and on top of it all, when the month in question (september) came to a head, you decided not to do anything. there was a distinct possibility that you had a child out there somewhere, and you decided it would be best not find out. ignorance is bliss, right?
wrong. you weren't worried about child support. you weren't worried about the kid. you weren't worried about her. you were worried about yourself, and what it would mean to get that DNA test. getting that DNA test would prove your guilt. regardless of the result. you knew that if you gave in and got the test, you would be admitting that you had a problem. that you very well could've fucked her. and been stupid enough not to use proper protection. and been stupid enough to lie to me.
when you did try to contact her, to figure all of it out, she apparently said: "i don't want anything from you."
i should've been like her.
i should've been strong enough, like she was, to say that i didn't need you. that i could do it all on my own. what i wouldn't give to sit down and talk to her.
anyway, i couldn't help but thinking this morning. what about that kid? with everything you had been through living in a broken home, how could you leave that child without a father? or some kind of monetary substitution? that child came into this world the 'wrong way'. you left that child, maybe YOUR CHILD, without a father, a family, and part of a support system. way to go, tony, way to go.
so here's what i've learned. you're a coward. out of everything that has happened, been said, and figured out, the bottom line is, you're a coward. you don't completely lack responsibility, because there are some things you are very responsible about. however, you have always been a coward. you were a coward with me, you were a coward with stacy, and you were a coward with that child. you couldn't admit that you were wrong. you were too afraid of what it would mean to admit that you fucked up.
and you know what, i don't have room for cowards in my life. i am a firm believer in taking responsibility for my actions; i live on principle. and i will do everything within my power to stay true to whatever principle applies. you, sir, don't have principles. or, rather, you have them, you just don't adhere to them. so, in turn, i guess they aren't principles. it goes against the whole idea of a principle. of a moral.
the bottom line:
you loved me. you did. i wouldn't have tried so hard if you didn't love me in the first place. but love is a principle in the context of a relationship. you're a coward, and you'd rather be selfish and change your principles of love or whatever so you can sleep at night. you have addictions that you're in denail about, and you're willing to do anything to stay in denial. you keep a responsibility to yourself and the military, but lack the responsibility to accept the consequences of your actions. i have apologized for whatever i did wrong. you haven't. you don't know what it means to apologize. to truly be sorry. and to admit it to someone you have wronged. you may or may not have a child, and you make it seem like you don't care. or, rather, that you care more about yourself than you do about a child that may be yours. that's not the type of person i would want to have children with. you're a coward, tony fritz, and i don't want to worry about you anymore. because you've made your own bed. now lay in it.
you were at my work, in the backroom. i asked you where you were living these days. you said "alabama." [i guess maybe i've been a little worried about running into you today.] it seemed as if we weren't angry with each other anymore. that we'd both had enough hindsight to be civil to each other. a question churned in my stomach. i mustered the strength and asked you: "how long were you cheating on me?" you smiled. that all-knowing smile, as if you realized your actions were a mistake. maybe 'all-knowing' isn't appropriate. semi-apologetic. "i was sleeping with momma," you said. i know what you meant. you meant that girl, stacy (i still remember her name), who may or may not have had your child. and there was an indication there that you were still with her.
if i only knew then what i know now.
my alarm went off, and i hit the snooze button. i lay awake, face-up on my bed, my muddled brain trying to remember and decifier all of the dreams i had. that seemingly tiny, insignificant dream came forward.
i got up, trudged down to the garage, cursing myself inwardly for forgetting to move the soda to the kitchen, grabbed a pop, and headed out to the porch for my morning smoke. i sat curled up on the chair, puffing and chugging, and all of a sudden, a realization came upon me. maybe it was the nicotine. maybe it was the caffeine. maybe it was the heat. but mostly, i think it was just an epiphany. two or so years of gathering information, trying to categorize it in my mind, and failing at finding any conclusions suddenly came to a head on the porch.
many people in my life have had their hypotheses. and many of them were right on some level. but when this thought passed through my mind, i realized that those hypotheses were only a piece of the puzzle. a small (or large) pebble in the grand mosaic.
i shall present my evidence, and lay my case out for you, even though i know you're not going to tell me if i'm right. i don't think you even realize this.
here is my "duh" realization: you are a good person. you have a good heart, deep down. you DO want to do the right thing. but you lack the responsibility and selflessness to partake in the well-known humble pie.
you made a responsibility to the military. that's a big responsibility. one many of us could not handle, regardless of our ideologies. you grew up in a broken home, with two completely different families, with two completely different sets of morals. your father was quite absent from your life, and you've spent your adulthood trying to create a bond that should've been made in childhood. that might explain why you try so hard to please him. whenever we were with him, or his side of the family, you told me not to swear, smoke, or say anything off-color (or, god forbid, liberal). you tried to portray me as someone that i am not. i am a smoker, let me smoke. i don't believe in censoring myself completely for the sake of other people, let me swear. i am a liberal, and this is fucking america (the country with freedoms that you, yourself, spend your life 'trying to protect'), let me be a liberal.
here's the other thing. that big other thing. that other thing that basically caused everything to circle the drain. you cheated on me. you know you did. there was no blackout. you knew what you were doing. i'm willing to bet a lot of money that you have an addiction to sex that you can't get a grasp on. you knew what was happening, but you didn't know how to stop. and, my mother is right, you didn't want to hurt me. so, you kept it to yourself. you figured you would try again. that sometimes you have to fail, first, in order to succeed. what caitlyn don't know don't hurt her, right?
then, you found out she was pregnant. you sat on that information for three weeks. finally, when you came home, you decided that you had to tell me. that this was something that wouldn't just go away. so, you told me most of the truth. a warped version of it. somehow, in that mind of yours, you figured it didn't matter how you knew or if you remembered, the important thing was that you were telling me the truth. well, that i knew the basics. here are the basics: you cheated on me. and she may be pregnant with your child.
what you didn't realize was that the details were the important thing. that it didn't necessarily matter as much, in comparison, the end result. everything is about intention. or maybe you did realize this. maybe you knew that if i knew the intentions, it would be over. if i knew you were present and accounted for when you fucked her, i wouldn't have tried to forgive you.
partial truth doesn't set you free, tony.
one of the worst things about coming out of a bad, unhealthy relationship is what it makes you think about yourself. after our relationship was really over, i was afraid my judgement was off. that i couldn't see you for what you really were. looking back, i did. i could see it. but i was lying to myself. i was trying to save myself from pain. my intuitive little brain could see past all the bullshit, and i didn't want to listen, which is why i just wouldn't let go of it. why i couldn't move on. why i couldn't forgive you. how can i forgive you if i don't have all the facts?
and on top of it all, when the month in question (september) came to a head, you decided not to do anything. there was a distinct possibility that you had a child out there somewhere, and you decided it would be best not find out. ignorance is bliss, right?
wrong. you weren't worried about child support. you weren't worried about the kid. you weren't worried about her. you were worried about yourself, and what it would mean to get that DNA test. getting that DNA test would prove your guilt. regardless of the result. you knew that if you gave in and got the test, you would be admitting that you had a problem. that you very well could've fucked her. and been stupid enough not to use proper protection. and been stupid enough to lie to me.
when you did try to contact her, to figure all of it out, she apparently said: "i don't want anything from you."
i should've been like her.
i should've been strong enough, like she was, to say that i didn't need you. that i could do it all on my own. what i wouldn't give to sit down and talk to her.
anyway, i couldn't help but thinking this morning. what about that kid? with everything you had been through living in a broken home, how could you leave that child without a father? or some kind of monetary substitution? that child came into this world the 'wrong way'. you left that child, maybe YOUR CHILD, without a father, a family, and part of a support system. way to go, tony, way to go.
so here's what i've learned. you're a coward. out of everything that has happened, been said, and figured out, the bottom line is, you're a coward. you don't completely lack responsibility, because there are some things you are very responsible about. however, you have always been a coward. you were a coward with me, you were a coward with stacy, and you were a coward with that child. you couldn't admit that you were wrong. you were too afraid of what it would mean to admit that you fucked up.
and you know what, i don't have room for cowards in my life. i am a firm believer in taking responsibility for my actions; i live on principle. and i will do everything within my power to stay true to whatever principle applies. you, sir, don't have principles. or, rather, you have them, you just don't adhere to them. so, in turn, i guess they aren't principles. it goes against the whole idea of a principle. of a moral.
the bottom line:
you loved me. you did. i wouldn't have tried so hard if you didn't love me in the first place. but love is a principle in the context of a relationship. you're a coward, and you'd rather be selfish and change your principles of love or whatever so you can sleep at night. you have addictions that you're in denail about, and you're willing to do anything to stay in denial. you keep a responsibility to yourself and the military, but lack the responsibility to accept the consequences of your actions. i have apologized for whatever i did wrong. you haven't. you don't know what it means to apologize. to truly be sorry. and to admit it to someone you have wronged. you may or may not have a child, and you make it seem like you don't care. or, rather, that you care more about yourself than you do about a child that may be yours. that's not the type of person i would want to have children with. you're a coward, tony fritz, and i don't want to worry about you anymore. because you've made your own bed. now lay in it.