Well, I’m just digging the grave — you pulled the trigger.
Finalised drafting on 27 May. Published to rest today.
Sometime on the 19th of April, during my first listen of Tay’s TTPD, hearing “loml” (the second track 5 of the album — IYKYK) punched me in the gut (then again — don’t get me started on “So long, London”‘s chorus).
There would be so many moments of us playing in my head, so many I would find in a cabinet of memories, each one carefully labelled in folders with their respective keywords, followed by their months and years. You can tell from their beat-up corners which ones are my favourites — but that’s not fair to say, when there were many : Starbucks Mocha Frappe. Free-Range Eggs. Travis Scott. Costa. My Apartment. Your Apartment. Your new Apartment. Your old Audi. My Weekend Letters in August 2019. My handwritten letter from Seychelles. Our post-work Dubai Mall hangs. You picking out Sunglasses. You dancing at Level Shoes to test a pair of sneakers I picked out. Our first kiss extremely tipsy at the back of a cab. GOD. There were so many. Good memory is indeed both a blessing and a curse.
When things were bad and shitty, I would scamper to this cabinet to remind myself why I was there, why I would stick around despite all of it. I would play them in my head like a montage in a silent film, and it would be my saving grace. I once thought I was blessed with our moments together, but I’m afraid they are forever tarnished now, never to be seen the same way.
My delusional belief was that what we had was special and rare despite its sinful nature (how awful of a person I am to deem this acceptable), so the momentary highs would suffice. “It’s all worth it anyway, this means something, I mean something”, I tell myself. He’s such a great person who’s made me feel feelings I didn’t even know could be felt in real life. “I was never ‘loved’ like that”, I thought.
I also once believed we shared this cabinet.
(I don’t know what would be worse at this point — thinking this cabinet was solely in my custody, or that we both had access to it, but being the only one who valued its contents?)
Because … “how could something so beautiful and so real only be accessible to me?”, I wondered. Surely I couldn’t be the only one who remembers all the sweaty naps, or the oily post-dinner kisses, or him cradling my feet with his under the table as we stuffed our face during our lunch break (“I wanted to go for the hands, but I found the feet, and I’m happy”, he said), or him coming back up to kiss me as we take the emergency exit stairs heading to the parking space, or him texting me “5 more minutes” just as I got out of his car and into the lift, already heading to my floor, and I reply with, “coming back down” … or all those quiet moments of me running my hand through his hair, or gently caressing his head as I watch him fall asleep — I thought that this was what life was all about. This. Just this. Just moments like this in silence, when all we had was each other, and the calming sound of our synchronised breathing.
The night he drunkenly found his way to my apartment, I felt his weight on top of me as he drifted in and out of slumber, minutes before he told me loved me (to my face), and I held him there, hair still wet from my midnight shower that it was seeping through the pillow, with Obi-Wan playing in the background, I closed my eyes and asked God why couldn’t I just have this. Why couldn’t I just be with this Man when everything feels right with him and I loved him very deeply, and I felt loved very deeply. I told myself I could die at that second and be the happiest person in the world.
I find myself mourning these memories alone, as I stood on the sidewalk, across his car which I am then seeing parked there for the fourth time this year, only now they’re kissing three times as I walk past them, at the exact same hour when it would be me in the passenger’s seat, the most recent one being not so long ago.
I was made to believe that my feelings were something he considered, but when I acted like it, I was told I was crossing his boundaries.
It took awhile after I gracefully and peacefully tapped out before I realised I wasn’t really ever valued at all — maybe as another person who loved him and made him feel special, but not as an actual person. Not for who I was. I was just another one of the girls who fed his ego. A nobody.
A part of me thought that having a proper discussion probably should be had to put a “decent” end to things, to have closure to move on (more for me, because he has long moved on, obviously) — but opening that door would only lead to me being made believe that my feelings weren’t valid, and that I was at the wrong for feeling these feelings, that I had no right to feel the way I did.
I would be sitting across him in person, or sitting on my bed reading his WhatsApp messages and all he would do is list down reasons why I was wrong (to make a point that he’s never wrong). I would sit there listening to him make me feel like the stupidest person to exist. It would be utterly pointless talking to a person whose only intent was to project, or defend themselves, with zero reflection from their end, zero intention to apologise for the way they handled things.
I already know how that conversation would turn out :
Him : First of all, may I remind you that I was honest with you from the beginning.
Me : Yes and No. Yes, you were honest about how there was no future here. No, you were not honest about your intentions with her, which I have asked you over and over, because I was willing to tap out then, if you had told me. Yes, you have made it known to me repeatedly that you and I were NOT going anywhere. No, you did not say “I am starting to have feelings for someone else”, or “I want to sleep with another person — who isn’t you, apart from my wife, so we should end this.” What you did say were variants of, “I don’t have to explain myself to you”, and “We need to stop this anyway, this is unhealthy”, etc. Zero acknowledgment on the looming second affair you were already having.
Him : You don’t have a right to be upset about this. We aren’t together.
Me : Yes and No. Yes, we aren’t together. No, I do have a right to be upset because you spun me around. Perhaps if you actually kept our texts, you would understand why I’ve been saying this repeatedly. You went through lengths for me to believe your lies, when I gave you so many chances to be upfront with me.
Him : What I do with my time and my life is none of your business. You had no right to knock on my car window like that.
~ pause for lol ~
Me : You choosing to park in a spot that has been my route home since 2016 is you making it my business. You have been dropping me off my building since 2019. If you didn’t know it was my route home then, you knew it after March 26 this year. And yet there you were, consistently parking in a street you knew I would potentially see you at. And what’s worse is, I kindly let you know that it had made me so uncomfortable after seeing you there the first time. I wasn’t walking around my neighbourhood looking for your car even when I knew she lived in my area. You came into my space REPEATEDLY and I HAD TO SEE YOU THERE THREE MORE TIMES. I don’t give a fuck if you were parking close to her building and it’s convenient. You weren’t bestowing me any form of respect. To the very end, you put your own selfish needs first. “Fuck everyone else, I will do what I want”.
Him : I did not ask you to stick around. You were free to leave.
Me : I am not saying you did. My decision to stick around was my decision. I did however, say that I would be tapping out if you had started to fall in love with her, or had intentions to sleep with her. I said something like, “I don’t want to stick around for that”, and you said, “Fair”. It was wrong for me to have relied that you would tell me the truth. I gave you my terms. I spoke to you like an adult. Why did you not acknowledge that?
Is the above to your satisfaction? No?
THEN LET’S LOOK AT THE TIMELINE, SHALL WE?
1.) Apologies for being repetitive, it seems like it needs to be done at this point
2.) These are all backed by IG DMs and WhatsApp history messages, which I have pulled up to type out for the purpose of this entry as you remain insistent that I am in the wrong
3.) If we were in a courtroom, know that I have every shred of evidence to win this case. I will not be gaslit into thinking otherwise
OCTOBER 31 : You post her on your story during Halloween at the Gym, after you told me that morning that you would be ghosting her, lol. It lead me to ask,”... but could you please let me know if you’re keeping her around because you’re considering this to go somewhere with her? I will totally respect that, if that’s something you see happening, and I won’t be mad or take it against you.” You respond, “You aren’t crazy. I obviously have a bias towards her. It’s a mixture of flirty friendship chemistry. But no. I’m not planning to bang her. Or date her“, you reassuringly tell me (lol)
NOVEMBER 3 : You ask me to hang out at the gym with you to prove a point. I say that’s not going to change anything. We go into another semi-argument. I tell you so much has shifted in a span of a week : from you saying there was no chemistry, to now saying there is, and you tell me, “I’ve given her a pass, yes. Entrance into the lobby. No more. Look, at the end of the day, I’m not going to change my behaviour. I’m doing what I want and feel daily. I’m not dating her. Or even the slightest. I go to that gym 6 times a week. She’s got 5 boys taking her out on dates. I really don’t see the issue“. I say, “I’m just processing where the line is here for her“, and you respond, “Don’t worry about where her line is. I’ll worry about that. And perhaps my Wife can worry about it too, lol. The line is kissing“. (lol)
NOVEMBER 6 : You ask me to come with you to check another gym together. I turn it into a conversation about “her” gym, and whether you no longer want us to go there. We have another argument. It ends with me saying, “just tell me the truth. there will be no argument“. You respond with “Goodnight.” (lol)
NOVEMBER 7 : MAJOR. This was when you called me to pacify me after I had a meltdown when you admitted you had chemistry with her, enjoyed her company, liked talking to her, etc. You again say you had no intentions of sleeping with her, and you were only enjoying the flirting, because it was fun. “I still have all these feelings for you“, you reassuringly tell me. “I have NO intentions for this to go anywhere with her“. I argue, and argue some more. But I accept that the flirting will continue, and you say it will, because it’s just harmless flirting. You ask if I was ever in the debate team. We laugh. We hang up. I feel relieved, like I could really trust you, because you were so upfront with me, but I knew I needed some time to think, and absorb whatever was happening.
NOVEMBER 9 : You ask me to check-out another gym with you on Saturday, the 11th. I say I’m not up for anything gym-related yet, but maybe next week. If not, raincheck. You say, “Oki no probs“.
NOVEMBER 11 : You ask for us to do leg day again. I say raincheck. “The gym is still too triggering for me“, I say. You ask if I prefer we have dinner instead. I say raincheck. It becomes a full on playful, semi-annoying banter. At the end I tell you that “I need more time” to process everything that was happening. “I’m sifting through things still“, I say. The reality that I had to be okay with you constantly hanging out with another girl (who isn’t me) apart from your wife, and warm up to the fact that you were simply enjoying the flirting with someone else was quite a lot to absorb, because my insecurity has now doubled.
NOVEMBER 14 : You check-up on me and start conversation. I’m not as warm and jolly as per usual for obvious reasons, but we converse a bit.
NOVEMBER 16 : You check-up on me and start conversation. I’m not as warm and jolly as per usual for obvious reasons, but we converse a bit.
NOVEMBER 21 : I got an inkling you were together from your story. I reply to it and confront you with many texts to tell me the truth. I say I am tapping out. You message on WhatsApp saying you have blocked me on IG (your exact words were that my “IG privileges” were “revoked”). You confirm you were out together having dinner but also with people from the Gym. You say this is unhealthy and we need to stop. “We need space now Abbie. You need to get over me. This dysfunctional relationship is a terrible idea. I love you. Bye.” I reply to say something about you being the “rarest Pokémon that ever was“, and how much I loved you too, and how much this hurt. I say my goodbyes. I kindly ask for time to move on (1).
NOVEMBER 27 : (lol) You ask me if I’m okay. I say “trying“. You say “Good“.
DECEMBER 11 : You check up on me. I remain civil.
DECEMBER 12 : You ask to meet up with me to hang-out, but under the ‘strict conditions’ (your words) of : “No touching, kissing, hugging, or sexing“. I bring her up as a way of snooping about where you’re at with her. You finally admit you had sex. FIVE TIMES now, but that’s just a rough estimate. The first time being on November 10. THREE DAYS AFTER YOU FEED ME THIS BULLSHIT OF HAVING “ALL THESE FEELINGS” FOR ME, STILL and having ZERO INTENTIONS TO TAKE IT FURTHER WITH HER. I stay calm. I don’t throw you obscenities. I don’t cuss you out. I do not say A SINGLE MEAN THING. I say my goodbyes. I kindly ask for time to move on (2).
I keep my distance since. I send no messages. I make no calls. I give us both peace. I try to carry pieces of myself I could identify, and rebuild what I could.
MARCH 26 : I see you parked on my route home. You did not roll down the car window, or step out of the car, or acknowledge me properly. You just sat there waving, nervously laughing. It clicks. I walk away rudely. The area was also surrounded with hotels. Either that, or you were waiting for her. Regardless, I knew the reason, and it made me uncomfortable. I reach you via SMS, WhatsApp, even tried to call you to explain, and let you know how that made me feel, one of the sentences I sent out was, “… I DID NOT WANT TO WITNESS ANYTHING ELSE“. You reject my call, but respond to my WhatsApp message : “all good“, you say. Naturally, you did not have anything bad to feel about. No “sorry you had to see that“, no “sorry, I’ll make sure to park elsewhere next time“. No “sorry“. But I tell myself you wouldn’t be that cruel. I give you the benefit of the doubt. I let it go.
MARCH 29 : I see your (empty) car parked in front of Rose Plaza Hotel as I make my way home. I mentally thank you for giving me this to think about during my 11 hour flight that evening. “He probably thinks it’s too early in the day for me to see his car there“. And that part of me that said, “but Abbie, if he respects you enough, don’t you think he would decide to maybe park his car somewhere else?“, I chucked her off the plane. I tell myself you wouldn’t be that cruel. I give you the benefit of the doubt. I let it go.
~ I am away for two weeks, and ‘the great flood’ happens when I get back ~
MAY 7 : I see you arrive with her in the car on the same street. I reason with myself many times. “Abbie, he probably doesn’t care if you saw them there, that’s the whole point of him parking in the street where you walk home. Maybe you shouldn’t too.” But I did. The ink hasn’t dried yet. It’s only been 5 months. I have not fully moved on from anything. I spend over an hour crying to Maya over Skype. She tells me she has never heard me cry like that in our life. I was beyond exhausted. I was beyond done. I was beyond all the good I was still holding on to. It was the simple fact that my feelings and my existence weren’t being honoured + respected, when all I did was peacefully walk away and give you space. I did not understand your actions at all. Still — can you believe it : I tell myself you wouldn’t be that cruel. I give you the benefit of the doubt. I let it go.
MAY 9 : I see you both arrive on the same street again. I walk past you and make it to my apartment. Knowing I already had plans to go to the mall after I dropped off my things, I went back out, and contemplated whether it would be time for me to confront you. As soon as I walk past the front of the car, you kiss. And you kiss again. And you kiss again. You know what happened next. You were there. I then think you are the cruellest person I’ve ever met. I do not have it in me to give you the benefit of the doubt. I do not let it go.
… Did I leave anything out?
Could you imagine how easier life could have been had you told me the truth from the beginning? It would hurt like fuck, but at least you had let me keep a bit of my dignity. “Yes, Abbie. I think I will be sleeping with her. Those are my intentions. I think I am starting to develop feelings for her. We should put an end to whatever it is you and I have now.” But no. You watched me get into the clown costume when I had mistaken it for something decent, and then you laughed at me, and when I asked why, you said nothing.
It’s so funny that whenever we’d talk about her back in September you’d always say, “I’m just teasing you, I love when you get jealous“, or how you call me out on my ‘insecurities’ by saying, “You’re just worried she would be the next ‘you‘, and take your place“.
Lo and behold. It only took two months after you said that for it to come true, after you told me it wasn’t going to happen. Was I misled about this part or not?
I am wide awake. I have accepted how this ended, despite me already calling it from the first time you dropped her off post your workout and it made you so UPSET that I IMMEDIATELY MADE THAT ASSUMPTION. You do not get to control how I wail in pain from a wound you inflicted. You do not get to justify the way you chose to hurt me (which you will deny to the very end), especially when you have never once felt or showed any form or sign of guilt … You let me watch you screw me over, and you refuse to accept that that’s what happened.
You can’t blame me for seeing things this way. It has played out differently in your head because this is how you chose to deal with the situation : from your selfish POV, you had no responsibility to let me know shit. But our chat history states differently. It’s not my fault you delete our messages.
I will not be sat down for you to make me watch an altered version of my reality that I experienced. Plus, my memory has always been better than yours.
What’s getting you riled up? That I’m writing about something that happened from my perspective, based on our conversations, with me having a record of every single thing you told me, and every single thing you DIDN’T?
I was blogging when you met me. Blogging has always been my release. My way to process my feelings. My way to scream into the void. This is not me trying to get your side of the story, either. I don’t need it. I especially do not need to be approached by you with zero remorse, all angry as if you did not give me reason to be upset. I will not stand by as you wash your hands clean of the truth, only to try and wrap me in more lies.
There is no “winning” here. I cannot win a war I am not fighting.
I used to cower in fear when I’d think about upsetting you. But with the way you’ve shown not single shred of regret for your actions, I have lost all consideration towards your feelings. You can make yourself believe otherwise, but you have barely extended me the same courtesy, especially after December 12th.
I think to myself : this is a man I sat next to whilst I was seated at the passengers seat in June 2023, saying,”… I mean, we were great. We were so good. If I never end up with anyone, the fact that we got to share what we did, that I got to know a love like that in my life, that would have been enough, I’d die happy to have just known it“.
… I know. I know. lol. What a brutal wake-up call — the worst. The ugliest. The most excruciating. Now not only do I mourn a person who is still alive, but I mourn a person who I never really knew, apparently.
But alas, it is with this entry that I bid goodbye to a part of myself that once believed in the little good I thought we both shared. This should also be the last time I ever address this directly. May this angry blog post be my final public release, my “throwing the Heart of the Ocean into the water” moment, or Dobby getting a sock.
As I publish this entry, I take out the cabinet of filed memories and have the Universe dispose of it, or do whatever it wills. There was no reason for me to hold on to moments I thought of as ‘precious’ and ‘sacred’, and ‘meaningful’, and ‘real’ and ‘rare’ and ‘beautiful’ and … ‘ours‘. They were too heavy for one person to lug around, useless to have one person go through. This now requires nothing from my end. No killing it with fire. No sorting through folders to keep. Nothing.
Everything I said before December 12 2023 no longer applies. I have left it in the forest’s ashes you maniacally burned down, with me in it. That version of me is dead — I take the memory of who I thought you were, and what I thought we shared, which are now in fact weightless and bear no meaning … to its grave.
There’s a classic phrase, one he’s smugly (because he’s so honest) repeated to me so many times, as I expressed my fear of ‘losing him forever’ : “Abbie, you can’t lose what you never had”.
It just dawned on me, on the 26th of May (when I started drafting this entry), at 3.21pm, whilst brushing my teeth after a late lunch, I end up telling myself :
“Abbie, you can’t lose what was never real”, which sounded less painful to swallow, because there was nothing to let go of. Nothing from the past 5 years.
And so I brushed and brushed, then flossed my teeth, and told myself that this was a chapter of my life and a version of a person I didn’t need closure from.
The fact that it none of it was true is closure enough.
thatgirlabbie.com 
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