A little bit of that night…

I always knew it would come to head. Kinda like that guy you dated in high school who was fine with “above the belt”, but ultimately wanted your mouth on his dick. The fear stuck by me, not as much in the months leading up to this night, but definitely in previous nights. He had a loud mouth and insecurities out the wazoo. He had treated my best friend poorly on many occasions. Strangely enough, that was at a time when I stood up for him.

The actual event that night meant nothing to me, as most do. Keep in mind that I love country music. Give me a story arranged in notes, a voice so deep you think they are channeling the bottom of the ocean, a song about life, love and heartache. That is what I listen to when I am alone and no one else can skip to the next song. That night I wish I had skipped to the next song.

I grew up with my mom in a small town. Saturday mornings in the Spring I woke up to her cleaning, windows open, the scent of Pledge in the air and Randy Travis filling the the house. Nowadays, I travel back to bonfire weddings, karaoke during Christmas and flannel for days. Don’t get me wrong, I love it. All of it. However, I always wanted more. I wanted to learn more. I wanted the experience. This is why I embrace any musical opportunity that comes my way.

My musical knowledge is limited. I played the clarinet when I was younger, when it was kind of the cool thing to do. I can sing a bit, meaning I can sing country and was in choir for four years a very, very long time ago. I only know I can sing because a small amount of people have witnessed me truly going for it, including my mom, soon to be ex-husband and a handful of family and friends.

Only recently I decided to embrace country music in its truest form. By that I mean a little Willy, Hank, Randy and Jones. Vinyl gives it the old school feeling and their voices take me back home. That being said, I love being introduced to new music. And ultimately, that is why I was at Mr. Smalls on August 20.

Board games and country music. That could sum up my family gatherings in a nutshell. A very large nutshell because, trust me, there is so much more to that story. This information is only relevant because my night began with a board game and ended with me storming out of a show I didn’t really care about. The night of the show started with drinks at the house that now belongs to Dave and luckily included my gorgeous friend Kristen. Kristen, a girl who gives honesty a face, was there last week when I was attempting to pack up my house. Ironically she pointed out the game DICEcapades. That was the start of the end.

How many of you have two friends who have just split up? This can be as simple as a friendship, as complicated as a relationship or as messy as a divorce. It all sucks. There are two sides to every story and there are still two sides floating around about the night I speak of. But ultimately, there is one. There is one story that is real.

I can be a gossip. Can meaning was and gossip meaning I know everything. Everything about my friends. Look back to paragraph one, the “he” I referred to is the same one I am referring to now. He was one of my best friends. He was also a friend of Dave’s and dated the girl I cared most about. You know, the one he treated like shit?

The night we went out involved new friends, old friends and a shitshow looming in the dark. It involved beer, music, lies and, ultimately, the truth. It involved him and his new girl. This girl, the one that sped out of my house months before because she couldn’t handle the pictures of his ex (my best friend) sitting around my house, started the drama. Oh, the drama. Still to this day people question the things that come out of my mouth, but luckily they don’t question Kristen, the girl I was with that night.

It’s funny to me now that the band playing included another relationship “he” almost ruined. Call me a gossip, but come on dude, keep your mouth shut. It’s also funny to me now that the only reason I came out of the bathroom was to defend his ex, my best friend. And ultimately, this led to a lot of screaming, crying and, in the end, my divorce.

Relationships are a funny thing. Recently I was watching a show and the girl, who, like me, fucked her husband over. She kept the secret inside of her. If you know me or knew me, you know I did this. I have wounds inside and out showing my pain. I have shed tears and fell to pieces over the situation with my husband and that night. The tears belong to me and the anger belongs to Dave. Do you understand?

Like I said, people talk to me a lot. I know a lot things. Things I keep hidden. Things I supported. Things I didn’t like. The night I refer to is the night when a friend of mine, a friend of Dave’s and a guy that dated my best friend, “ruined my marriage”.

I know it is all my fault. Trust me. Should I have done the things I did? No. Did Dave deserve to know? Yes. Did that guy, the one that was more involved than I care to admit, have any right? No. And neither did his girlfriend who is 25 and has no clue what the future holds.

So here I sit, awake into the morning once again. My mind tends to go and go and go. It’s at these times that I wonder, does his? Does the guy who made it his argument sleep at night? Does he remember what he said in the moments leading up to the pain that is everlasting? I doubt it. But that is only because I have witnessed for so long the lack of emotion in his eyes.

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