You are all probably wondering why there is even a part three; believe me, I was very frustrated, scared, and upset at this point. But I didn’t want to give up.
Even my cynical heart had hope that things would turn around and we could go on like this didn’t happen. But in the weeks following the bar fight, we were very distant.
I built walls around me, just waiting for that third thing to happen when I would say, “That’s it! I’m out of here.”
It happened on a Wenesday night… or rather, a Thursday morning at 4 am. D was texting me, drunk. Actually, he was wasted—most of the texts were just random letters, like he was slamming his fingers down on his phone and sending them to me.
Some words I could read, like him telling me he was going to go back to “someone else.”
That was it. He was drunk again, and now telling me he was going to cheat. Two things I absolutely cannot and will not tolerate.
I replied and told him it was over.
He continued to text me passive aggressive bullshit, but I turned off my phone and tried to get some sleep.
The next morning, D sent me a message saying he couldn’t do this anymore. I took it as him trying to turn the tables and break up with me, but I told him it was already over. Later, he explained that he just meant the crazy drinking, but it doesn’t ultimately matter. It was over.
D is an alcoholic.
When I tell people that, most of them just say, “Well yeah he works in the service industry,” but it’s not that. Alcoholics aren’t just people who like to drink; they have a very serious problem.
It broke my heart to have to let D go… but I know I must make a better life for myself. I have no fucking clue how I keep finding myself in these situations—never ever ever in my darkest nightmares did I think I would be dating a guy like this.
The day after we broke up, I had my locks changed as D had a key to my place. I didn’t think he’d even try to come over, but I’m going out of town soon and didn’t want to take any chances.
That Saturday morning, I woke up at 5 am to pounding on my door. D was outside, drunk, with a styrofoam cup of Crown in his hand.
I am still so very heartbroken. As pathetic as it may sounds, I just want one of these relationships to work. I want to be loved.
I hope that D gets the professional help he needs before something else terrible happens. But I cannot rescue him, help him, or stand by and watch as things unfold anymore.