He was an expert at spinning lies, this devilish doctor, and he intentionally fabricated a new realm of existence for me, where only he knew the truth. His every move was more calculated than the last, methodically creating turmoil that he would later save me from. He was always there to catch me when I fell, but he was also, the one who pushed me. He made me question my own sanity and for four years, jeopardized my health with his unconscionable acts of infidelity. Not only did his secretive, non-coital copulation offend the Gods, but it also brought an end to an already polarized relationship. In hopes of concealing his double life, as we turned in each night, he lovingly said to me, “You’re my favorite one. I pick you.” However, his deceptions pushed the situation to a level where I contemplated suicide, and I told him this. Always unflappable, he said, “Just do it and get it over with. You know you’re going to do it anyway.” He would have preferred this to happen, rather than have his disgusting and pitiful life exposed. It was only a matter of time at this point, and he knew it.
When it finally occurred to me that we were playing some sort of game without rules, I questioned him. The doctor’s response was to hold my hand, look me in the eyes, and say, “I have you and you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I swear on my father’s grave that I’ve never cheated on you.”
I apologized for questioning his love for me, but also, continued my detective work. The sodomite’s body language told me he was lying and my gut told me something was amiss. I had to prove to myself that I wasn’t losing my mind and my instincts, months before, had already forced me to become a detective – a job that I took very seriously.
Several months and thousands of dollars later, I presented him with a color-coded spreadsheet that contained hundreds of names, phone numbers, addresses and birthdates of people that he had been with since we met. It contained the dates that he had been with each of these men, the day of the week that the incident occurred and the time of day. We had clearly defined boundaries – our relationship was supposed to be a monogamous one, but his conformity to this pledge of fidelity was simply masquerade. The reality was that he was having sex with no boundaries that even the most kinky, liberal gay couple in South Beach, with an open relationship, would not tolerate.
His depth of mental derangement is, possibly, the hardest thing for me to comprehend, or communicate, as language is limited in its potential to describe the extent of his inhumanity and depravation, comparable only, perhaps, to that of Caligula. Even though I know it to be true, I just can’t wrap my brain around the fact that he would have permitted me to off myself, simply to hide his secret life. How it affects me, I believe to be something quite difficult to describe, but I will attempt to do so here. Despite my soul-searching, my months of research, and my focus on recovery from his deep betrayal, I still cannot understand how someone like him can exist; in fact, I wish he didn’t.
I was left searching for any semblance of normalcy in a fabricated life, unable to discern fact from fiction. Now, however, the tables had turned and it was he that was crying. “I never wanted to hurt you. Oh my God! You were never supposed to find out about this.”
Bad luck was his that day because he did hurt me and I did find out. Repayment for his cruelty was all I wanted. Well, payback’s a bitch, son, and this doctor had, seriously, messed with the wrong one. The Hippocratic-oath-breaking, skanky, dumb whore was about to play a new game but, this time, I was the shot-caller. Just because you make the gold doesn’t mean you make the rules, honey. He did me wrong, he didn’t care, and I guess that just didn’t sit right with me. Eye for an eye, baby. Eye for an eye.