Shortly after my Mark died, I fell in love with the man I thought was going to be my Chapter 2. I was in love with him. He seemed to be everything I wanted. He presented in a way that promised love and understanding and a future.
He did not.
He was, for lack of better words, jealous of a dead guy. He felt as though I was always putting the dead guy first. (Bear in mind, the dead guy had been dead just over a year when we got together).
Against my better judgement (and an actual question of “do you really think we should do this?”) we got matching tattoos.
They’re gorgeous. Musical and heart-y and romantic and lovely. And did I mention matching? And we’re not together anymore.
He felt I owed him money. I paid him $400 every 2 weeks for a year or so, then $200 every 2 weeks for another year or so. Ended up paying him close to $16,000.
I told him that I was done paying for things that I didn’t feel were my debt. That I needed the $200 every 2 weeks to buy, oh, I don’t know… groceries. (I had resorted to using the food bank because I couldn’t afford to feed my kids – yet he could).
He said fine. Actually he said a whole lot more than that… but that was the end of the conversations.
The man who told me he had loved me for 20+ years, the man who promised to love me no matter what, the man who was supposed to be my best man at my wedding, the man who promised me that no matter what, we’d be friends…. cut me off. Blocked me on all social media sites. Refuses to answer any phone calls or messages I send. (Not that I’ve sent many – mostly about mail he still gets here).
Apparently my friendship was worth $200 every 2 weeks to him. Nice, eh?
So anyhow… I’m left with this tattoo. This lovely, gorgeous, incredibly designed tattoo that matches that of a man who broke every. single. promise. he ever made to me.
Before I get married next summer – I’m getting it altered.
Today? Today was stage one. The lines are done, one element is mostly complete, and this little heart at the bottom of the tattoo that I tried to make uniquely my own (but he insisted they match) has been obliterated.
Today, I truly cut the last of the ties I had to him. Because I’m making my tattoo, my own. Not matching his, not similar, just mine.
It’s tempting to send him a picture. But in the end, it only serves the purpose to hurt him – and I’m not playing that game.
Widda peeps? Don’t get a matching tattoo with someone who you’re unsure of. Really that applies to all peeps – but especially widda peeps who’s brains are fried from the trauma of the death of their person and who are desperate to feel that connection again.
Because at some point… you’ll end up having to have it covered/altered despite how much you love the tattoo – simply because you no longer love the guy.
(Not entirely true, a part of me still loves him… just not a big part)
But wait until you’re completely sure.
When the tattoo is done – I’ll post before, during, and after pics. But for now… I’m in the process of cutting the last of the ties.