First I was afraid, I was petrified…

A friend posted the BBM flirt commercial on Facebook, and when I watched it, I felt my heart drop into my stomach. So much of my past came flooding back with one 60-second commercial. I imagine what hits me hardest are the vivid “there’s a fire outside of Penn Station” messages I had once found. Granted, this was in December 2008 so it was mid-torture-breakup, but if you can imagine the feeling you’d get when your SO comes home hours late, mumbles something about having to take another train, and then you read all about how there was a fire and they’re thinking of their crush (problem #1?) as they walk by their apartment building in the middle of the night due to having to switch those trains. I guess my beef really lies with the idiot that didn’t erase the messages.

But this causes that ever-long debate about the whole snooping thing: if I didn’t snoop, I might still be there, miserable (okay, that’s a stretch). Then there’s those opponents that say “if you snoop, you’re going to find something you don’t like regardless,” which I also believe to be true. It’s just the severity of what you might find that’s the determining factor.

So yes, this boils down to trust. Again. Evidently (and most likely due to the James-Michelle-Linda thing, but partially the whole Joe-Lynn-Linda thing), I didn’t have much back in December 2008 (or technically April to be exact, when I should have walked away the first time. Fortunately, I’ve since gotten over my hatred for Moleskines). But if not for those emails, texts/BBMs and journal entries, I don’t know how much longer I could have gone trying to make the impossible possible. Now, it’s not only like a whole ‘nother ball game, it’s like a whole ‘nother sport altogether. Maybe it’s the greater emotional investment-I don’t want to know, ’cause I don’t want anything to make me suspicious leading to more snooping, etc. and what I don’t know can’t hurt me (ignorantly blissful or blissfully ignorant?). Maybe, though-maybe I’ve no reason to even consider it. Despite it tearing my tortured soul in half, constantly at odds with itself, I have sincerely poured my trust into someone. And I like it, and I hate it, because I’m always afraid I’m going to get trampled for being so trusting and ignorant. That comes with my life experience though, I bet. If three out of four relationships were built on lies and lust (and the other on jealousy), I’ve no model for what ‘healthy’ is supposed to look like. But I don’t think it’s me trying to convince myself every single day to relax and stop thinking about it. I’m just so terrified that once I do, then I’m screwed.

I know, I know. The answer to that is, “if it happens, it happens, and you will live.” I just don’t ever want to feel that kind of hurt again. Who can blame me?

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