Now now lucifer…

The first betrayal of grandeur was from the right hand man of God. An angel named lucifer, created with a beautiful voice and of the most stunning appearance, who was blessed with everything a man could want. Or so anyone would believe but him.  His desires drove a darkness and the darkness rose blackening his soul, and to war he went. Of course God had that shit in the bag, or more specifically, he had the throne in a mofo trunk. God being the almighty won the war with the flick of a finger and the downing of a dragon. God cast his right hand man into the world and from that moment on a lifetime of battle commenced.

I know what you are thinking, every seventh sense man sounds exactly like this, you are correct. But what about the ones that start out as angels? What about the angels you trust and love ( without love is betrayal even possible? Ponders). Every one it would seem has the ability to become a devil. Everyone it would seem wants more than the ultimate.

I have spent two years being told that if I befriend men then I should know they are only after one thing. That when I meet men I am usually intoxicated and that there are no exceptions to the motive of men and my judgement is always impaired. I object. I do believe in opposite sexs being friends and I do believe that most people do not say hi whilst thinking what my knickers look like. Mr Duck disputes. So I have not accumulated male friends since being in this relationship, I respect he has insecurities and that it would cause him hurt I could prevent. I will not invite something that could cast doubt and ruin my relationship. He is always my right hand man and I need this ( cough to the Co dependency).

Trust is something I do not have, fools trust. I have always believed that anyone that trusted a partner should be cheated on as a harsh reminder not to be so gullible. I would snigger inside as if the words ” I trust them” translated to ”  I’m a dick. A big one”. Yet something in this relationship has had me beginning to explore that maybe I do trust this duck. Which has me squeezed into a corner cowering and screaming “noooooooooooooooooooo maybe I actually do love him”.  I won’t give him any credit for this tosh, I blame the therapy. Fuckin therapy is destroying my life.

When the duck migrated for winter I had thought that it would inevitably end the relationship. Splitting for me and of course cheating for him. To my surprise the latter didn’t appear to cross my mind. Terrifyingly I allowed myself to accept maybe. Just maybe. I love him. Properly. Like those weirdo normal people. Maybe, even worse, I trust him.

I’M A DICK. A BIG ONE. It came to my attention that MY Duck had been meeting swans. Yep swans. Gorgeous pre baby type swans. Not just that, he had also found it totally acceptable to add them to his social media and to have them liking all his shit in some Facebook code way of saying” I would”. The worst bit, it gets worse, is that days prior to discovery he had once again spoken about his friendships of opposite sexs code. Whist I challenged his views he swore oath he was to be heard and that he himself had not had the company of girls he would friend. LIES!  Sitting next to God for two years just isn’t enough is it lucifer?  So he hung himself with his own rope, probably the same rope he takes his dragon out for a walk with.

I think what infuriates me most isn’t the fact he did this, although I think it invites something when the relationship is already being tested, it’s the fact he has made me feel silly for thinking the way I do. For all those missed opportunities of having some male friends. For feeling like a total cheating whore for just chatting with a man over a cigarette in between my clubbing dance offs. And he lied. He lied about when they were added, vague about circumstances and was totally hypocritical. Because obviously he is now one of those men that only want the knickers. By his own definition. Throw making me appear neurotic for being cross into the cauldron and we have a whole heap of reasons I should walk away.

It matters not what he says about his love for me nor does it matter his explanation, incase you wonder apparently it’s an exception if your travelling.
“All husbands will be leaving the country shortly. Please make your way to gate 6”. Damage done. So whilst I sit pretty with my narcissistic crown and my mofo trunk, I shall for ever more be watching his wings. It doesn’t help when as of late he has lied over moods and purchasing items detrimental to our relationship, his own health and pushed me to question my own sense of worth.

This was the man I saw as my angel. The one I could trust more than any other. The one who I would challenge myself for and risk my beliefs and boundaries to be with. Who I thought would go away and heal and find himself and come back with even bigger wings.

My empire now at least means that whilst he adds and chats away for this month, I comfort myself with the knowledge I go out more, in ways that bring such opportunity. Now the rules have changed, I will not be making a step back with them as suits him. I shall be able to chat and meet and friend and get more likes on my pretty, jeweled dressed, head. I have not cast lucifer into the world, I have instead cast a book of stamps into the museum I build rapidly.

Lessons learnt :every devil was once an angel and every angel can become a devil. I should read the Bible more and I should never ever trust (A word. A promise. A Penis. A man).  Ultimately love and trust isn’t the one it’s absolutely made for the stupid. I am learning quickly what it is that I want from a relationship and I am starting to think I should be doing exactly what I want. I too can be the exception.

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