LawyerBoy wants me to stop obsessing over the blog. He thinks {D} and his family are nuts. He also noted that the frequency with which {D}’s girlfriend reads my blog is, frankly, funny—because I’m in their home all day, every day. At some point, they’re always thinking about me.
We were looking at the website together, and I was showing him my analytics, the video, all that shit. He started Googling {D}, and since state employee salaries are public, he saw what {D} made. LawyerBoy was shocked at how little it was. He didn’t realize he made way more money than {D}. I think he enjoyed that a little.
The LawyerBoy/{D} thing was always a thing. When I was dating LawyerBoy, it was before {D} and I got emotionally involved. I had feelings for {D}, and LawyerBoy knew it. But we had an open relationship, and I thought {D} and I were never going to be more than fuck buddies.
Still, LawyerBoy was jealous. I remember one day I was picking him up, and my texts were open on the Apple CarPlay display. {D} was the last person I’d texted. Now, LawyerBoy is something of a gentle giant—6’4”, towers over you, but gentle and sweet. Not a mean bone in his body. Just a good, solid guy. I’ve never met anyone like him. He doesn’t get pissed off. But he did that day. He didn’t say anything, just kept glancing at the screen and then finally changed it rather forcefully.
I knew he was mad. No one else would have noticed, but it upset him. And honestly, it should have. I wasn’t thinking, and I feel bad for doing that to him. He had every right to be jealous. In hindsight, I know I caused the breakup. I wasn’t good to him.
When I had my first medical episode—my body freezing up—he’s the one I called to come get me. He’s also the one I talked through what to put in my advance directive, telling my parents when to take me off a ventilator if i had an episode and I didn’t come out of it. I remember lying in bed one night, talking through it all in painful detail.
After that, I went off the rails. Really off the rails. I was doing drugs. I mean full sex, drugs, and rock and roll. I wanted to die. I don’t know how anyone could’ve handled a relationship with me then. It was my fault—completely. He did some shit too, sure, but I wasn’t a good girlfriend.
I wasn’t all bad, though. I took his mom with dementia to the doctor and hung out with her on my days off. I took care of his dog when she was really sick. I did those things so he didn’t have to miss work and could hit his billables. I was listed as “Mrs. LawyerBoy” at the vet’s office. But I wasn’t taking care of him—not emotionally. I turned a blind eye to the pain I was causing him. Not because I didn’t see it, but because at that point I didn’t care about anything. I saw it. I just didn’t stop.
I told him a few months ago that if that hadn’t happened, we’d probably still be together. We were a good pair. Same sense of humor (though he swears he’s funnier than I am, which is bullshit). We tease each other like siblings. He lets me be the devil on his shoulder, talking him into shit. Our birthdays are six days apart, so he calls me a “much older woman.” He doesn’t try to control me—he tries to convince me to make better choices.
Last night we talked about the rape in detail. I had him read things I hadn’t explained well before—how the state completely fucked up the handling of it. I showed him all the documents, had him read through them. That didn’t exactly set the mood for intimacy. We almost didn’t have sex. But eventually, we decided to just lay in bed and see what happened.
We had a really good time. He didn’t want to leave, but his dog has seizures and needed her meds. His poodle is his princess.
Regrets in life will always include what I did to LawyerBoy—and what could’ve been if I hadn’t been such a selfish, mean whore.
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