Yep, you read that right. The long-distance "romance" -- such as it was -- between me and Tinderfella has ended. It was going good...until it wasn't.
The beginning of the end was when he stopped making me a priority. He would only call me at the end of the day when he'd given himself to everyone else. By the time he got around to me, he was spent.
I hate not being a priority in someone's life. When my mom hooked up with my stepfather, I know for a fact he wasn't exactly happy about having me around. But he had no choice because my mom wasn't going to kick me to the curb for him. I always felt like I was the "value added" part of the deal. Because I hated feeling that way, I promised myself that I'd NEVER allow that kind of behavior and treatment in my own relationships.
Straight up, though, the real nail in the coffin was much more blatant. We were on the phone when one of his daughters walked into his room. She asked him who he was talking to, and instead of him saying my name, he referred to me by my work alias. People who really like and love me never do that. When I questioned him about it, he tried to lie and say that I used that name when I met him.
The lack of prioritizing me, the whacked out reference, and the lack of communication ultimately combined to bring about our demise.
I'm sad. Once again, I believed that he was someone who wanted to love me. I trusted him with some of my deepest, darkest secrets. I gave him the benefit of the doubt time after time. And once again, I'm alone.
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