A letter to Bo

You were not the first, sir, and you certainly were not the last. But you were certainly one of the worst. 

Her love affair with you was not brief. I don't know when it started, but she did tell me she was in love with you. I told her love is just a choice we make every day. These are things a man should not have to tell his wife.

Who knows what she told you, what evils she relayed to you about our relationship. I'm sure I was a bad man and she deserved better, but you only got part of the story, sir. Yes, she deserved better, but so did I. She cheated on me incessantly, and my small attempts to equalize the balance of power were seen as devilish, I'm sure. But who was the bigger devil? I did lash out in anger, but mostly undetectable anger. I meant to hurt her, but in other, less-obvious ways than she did. Maybe you missed all that backstory. Maybe you didn't care. True, I was not a saint. But you two put me to shame.

You spent a lot of time at my house, and often when I wasn't there. You spent much time riding in the car with her. Hell, you even drove her car. You talked a lot, didn't you? Not just at work, but all the time. You watched porn with her in my living room. You were at our parties. You played your guitar, ate our food, drank our beer, made yourself right at home. You even corrected my grammar. How nice of you.

You read the same books. You talked about those books. You shared the intimate details of your lives. Hell, she even read the book you wrote. What else did you two do?  

When I made love to her, was she even thinking of me? Probably not. But, she probably wasn't thinking of you, either. The great irony here is that neither you nor I was enough for her.

I really wished she had left me for you. You want to know why? Because then she could have seen what it was like to be with someone more selfish than herself. It seemed fitting. 

But you weren't the first or even remotely the last. You were just one of many, my friend. She fell in love with people all the time, both men and women. I wasn't enough for her, not by a longshot. I gave up on that long before you came along. But my little indiscretions gave her the excuse to treat me poorly and to seek out even more lovers. As time went on and my anger arose, my indiscretions became bigger, and she treated me even worse. But it was always me who had the problem, wasn't it?

You were like a ravening wolf. She was easy pickings, low-hanging fruit. And I no longer cared. If she couldn't choose me, then nothing I did could make her mine. It was always her choice. And she didn't choose me. 

Your audacity to come into my home and act like that, though, still galls me. I wonder about the shit you talked about me when I wasn't there because I remember the shit you talked about me when I was there. And you weren't the only one. She let all of you in, and you all went for my jugular. It wasn't enough that she welcomed you into our home. You had to piss all over me, didn't you? 

It's all so grotesque now. The memories are shit. I want to forget. I want to love a woman who loves me completely. She may not exist, but that won't stop me from searching. There is no perfect woman, but I believe there is at least one out there who can give herself to me and only me. Is that asking too much? 

I don't blame you, Bo. She made me feel good things, too. But she shared herself with too many. She would have done it to you, too. It would have been only a matter of time. So, I'm not really angry with you anymore. She's the one who gave herself away, spread herself so thin. You repeated what I said to her in a private moment, so I know you talked about me. When she and I were talking about us, I said, "Just save a little bit for me." You repeated that word-for-word — my words. She should have felt remorse when I told her that, but it was just a green light for her. Apparently, for you too. I remember the time I told you to shut up, too, and I felt bad about that. Imagine that, Bo. I felt bad for telling you to shut up. Did you feel bad about trying to steal my wife?

I will never return to her. The wounds are too deep, and God allowed me to leave my marriage for very good reasons. It is better if I am alone than if I find another like her. Though my love tank ran dry long ago, I know I will never again feel the deep hurt she inflicted on me. When I left my marriage, I tried and failed to hurt her as deeply as she hurt me. Some things I'm just not good at. Hurting her like she hurt me was one of them.

I'll never see you again, Bo, and that's okay. The memories you've left me with are ugly. The last time I saw you, you were in a parked car in the parking lot of where I worked. I leaned into your car and gave you a hug. We laughed. Let's leave that memory, okay? The rest can go.