I try not to write about it too much. It used to be one of my favorite subjects here. I needed to process all of it so badly. Needed a place to get it out, share it with other people. Now it's just this familiar heartache that confuses me, prickles at the edge of my consciousness. It fades and drifts in and out, the power to whither me diminished, but still there nevertheless.
Last night I wrote about him and did something I haven't done in a long time. I looked up his name on the Internet. Robby Carrillo, Robert Carrillo, Robert D. Carrillo, RDC. I found a tantalizing little bit of torture, something on subkultures.net, a sentence really and all it said was this, "Everyone knows Robby Carrillo is a porn freak." Like I needed to know that. Like I didn't know that. But when I followed the link it was missing. God/Nature/Spirit is sparing me a glimpse of some wounded teenage girl's writings about him. It's always like this, I search and I find something hurtful and restimulating, or something sad and mean, something that reminds me that I was in love with someone I never knew. He was a wisp, a ghost, someone I thought I understood, but now I see how truly blinded I was by my obsession to be with him, to be loved by him, to be secure.
He doesn't deserve all this lingering attention from me, he never did. He was sweet sometimes and funny. He was my friend, my companion, my lover. He was reasonably good looking and charismatic but he was dumb, immature, cruel, selfish, disloyal, hurtful, and he was a rotten lay. It embarrasses me that it's taking me this long to process all of this out of my soul, maybe I never will, I mean we shared some important history together, we created a life together, we were together for sixteen years. He was my first real relationship, I was his fifth or sixth or something like that, who really knows.
I just want the pain to stop. I want to stop caring. I want to be Demi to his Bruce, Meg to his Dennis, but he makes that impossible, by his continued neglect, his not choosing to contribute in any real way to the care of his son. And I want to let go of the part of myself that cares what he thinks of me, that hides and won't see him, even when he comes to pick up our son, because I don't want him to see how fat I've gotten. I want to be beautiful and have him hurt the way I did. I fantasize I will have this operation and he will see me, and then he will finally realize what he lost. Isn't that a pathetic fantasy? Wanting a man I no longer want, I no longer respect, to want me, because I am prettier? Isn't it a terrible shame that I have a man, a wonderful man, who loves me for myself, who really sees me, sees through the external me, sees beyond that and finds me beautiful, and yet my torn heart wants validation in some way from this other man? Wants him to find me beautiful, wants him to be sorry for the terrible pain he inflicted on me for so long, wants him to grow up and admit responsibility, see where he went wrong, stop blaming me for everything, and be a good man, a good example for, and a good father to his son.