The winds of destiny where blowing that faithful night and I chose my snobbiest ensemble (inside and out) attracting exactly what I deserved. A shallow personality, good looks and a bank roll the size of a Jay Leno’s head.
Stars swirled around me; I was unconscious, drunk and smitten. People say it hits you when you least expect it and boy I could never have seen this one coming. My drug of choice was LOVE! I was addicted to it and like most chemicals; it clouded my judgment, stunted my growth, and lead me to partake in acts I am not proud of. My self identity was starving for a reoccurring role with infinite nights on Broadway and the trophy wife was my Cats. Little did I know that the curtain would close before I could even reach my final act and that my dream role would turn into a nightmare staring “Prince Charming” as a crazy person wearing a black and white stripped sweater and yielding a fist full of lies.
I never really understood the phrase “keeping up appearances”. Probably because it was coined after me (always that last to know that society is gossiping behind my back). From the outside my “perfect” relationship was flourishing, but from the inside it was rotting like a piece of fruit in the sun. And while the flies had already started circling I was too distracted by the sweet fermenting smell to even notice the mold.
So why was I so blind to all of this? My catalysis never spoke of his unhappiness; he paid attention to me when he felt like it, and when he did not he bought me a shiny new toy to deflect my attention. I was only in my twenties. Aren’t these the types of relationships reserved for old married people who are cheating on each other and are no longer in love?
I continued to be his lap dog until my women’s intuition finally broke through the silence. She had been screaming for months, but my ears where blocked and my eyes glazed over like jelly donuts. Something was not right, but I never expected my life to turn into an episode of the “Bold & Beautiful”. He was Latin, really what was I thinking? I had watched Telemundo before: drama, screaming, tears and flying furniture. Strangely enough my catalysis showed about as much emotion as a vampire celebrating yet another birthday.
The paranoid behavior transformed me into what I now know is the true definition of a trophy wife - a CSI agent. I knew my degree in Criminal Justice would come in handy! I launched a full on investigation into his email, mail, wallet, pants, voicemail, and any other storage device I could get my little Nancy Drew hands on. Unfortunately I found exactly what I was looking for. My alleged “Prince Charming” was keeping his options open and was quite the methodical thinker, Maybe not smart enough to cover his tracks, but wise enough to put together a pro’s and con’s list of staying in a relationship with me.
Oprah would be so proud of your MAN journal. So there lying before me I was confronted by a tiny piece of paper listing out scenarios for my possible future including all of my attributes (and there where many) as well as all my flaws (only one or two). But the image that burned a hole in my heart was the other girl’s name listed besides mine – Miss Plan B.
(Part 3 will be posted tomorrow)
"Liar, Liar, Designer Pants on Fire" - Cinderella