Breaking the Cycle: A Liberation

I remember the first time I was sexually liberated. What I didn't realize is that it would liberate me more than just physically. During my early dating years, every boyfriend I ever had, cheated on me with another girl. Of course infidelity, a violation of trust, was a deal breaker. No matter how heart broken and devastated I was, reconciliation for that betrayal was never on the table for me. This left a scarring insecurity in all of my relationships long into my adulthood. That sick ill feeling every time the phone didn't ring, every time it went five minutes past when the doorbell was supposed to ring. Anxiety is a permanent and fixed emotion when it comes to dating for me. At least a half a dozen young men racking up the conquest of infidelity, yet women still bear the badge of the "whore" moniker. I guess we just expect less of men and always will. Into my late 20's I still had my perpetual attraction to the bad boy. It was fun. Oh how fun it was. The peacock, the rooster, the gorilla. He was so egotistical, he loved to show up at the club with the pretty girl on his arm. He loved jealousy. He loved a crazed psycho. Of course every encounter of his with a girl began before the previous one had ended. I had walked into a bar to see him flirting with another girl, after he told me he wasn't going out for the night, For. The. Last. Time. We didn't talk for a few weeks. I didn't need to. I was distancing myself. And I was over it. And then one night I decided I wanted a joint. The sexy subtle seduction of a joint. And as my luck has it, I can't, for the life of me, roll one. So I called him. He came. Within a few minutes I had my blissful euphoric sedation. And then we hooked up. Afterwards while I was enjoying the numbness of narcissistic hedonistic pleasures, the phone rang. It was my BFF and she wanted to know where we were going for the night. A huge smile spread across my face as I said I'll see you in 30. I quietly hung up the phone, rolled over and said, get out. The vision of shock and disbelief on his face is unforgettable. He wanted to know where was I going, could he come, or maybe he could hang out while I got ready?!#% Get out and don't let the door hit you in the ass. He was so flustered he even forgot his keys and I threw them out the door after him. Sex and the City couldn't have written a better scene. I closed the door, leaned back, exhaled and grinned like the Cheshire cat. He pursued me for weeks, months, even a year later, he acted star struck when I walked into a room. I was an enigma. But what I wasn't, was a lost puppy following a bad boy aimlessly around the room anymore. He was just a guy with a big ego, that was slightly more humbled by his encounter with me.