Depressed

So this past Thursday I met my ex (the one from right before the last one), the one who I really loved and had a kind of passionate love affair with, and who turned out to be really evil, told me he is engaged. Despite his truly despicable behavior, I really never stopped caring about him. It's hard to let people go even though you know you should. I had a few opportunities to start really dating him again after we broke up, but although my mind wanted to get back together with him, my body really didn't...it would revolt and start shaking until I stopped talking to him for a few months. And yet, despite this, I still feel positively sick over the fact that he is getting married. I guess I always thought he was too fucked up and too awful to be able to make it work with anyone and somehow I feel like I failed because he wasn't willing to make it work with me.

The back story to this is that many years ago I met M. and I fell instantly in love with him. Love at first sight. He had a girlfriend at the time, but we started hanging out. And then we started kissing. A lot. Everywhere. And I thought he was too good to be true, and we would never be together. But then he broke up with his girlfriend and we started going out and I was blissfully happy. I was also often drunk because he was drunk all the time, but I just loved being with him. He made me feel beautiful and special and I had never been more physically attracted to anyone in my life. One day I noticed that women that I didn't know were posting on his facebook account, and I asked him point blank if anything was up with any of them. He said absolutely not. And I believed him. Then, one night after we had been dating a year, we both went out and got really drunk. We went back to his place and he fell in and out of sleep on the living room chair and I sat at his desk similarly falling in and out of sleep. Then I thought I would read his notebook. I had been told that it was his writing notebook (he wants to be a writer) and that I was not allowed, but I thought...well, I want to see and he's right there 4 feet away so maybe it's okay. This is how people think when they are smashed. And so I opened it up (he kept it on the top of his desk in plain sight and I'd never looked at it). The first line of the first page said something like "I slept with S. again last night" I looked at the date and it was from 6 months ago...long after we had been together. S. was his ex who he had broken up with. I turned the pages..."Slept with Z. last night" it said. I started paging through frantically...name upon name kept popping up. I couldn't focus through my drunken haze, but I knew this wasn't right. I was trying to count names. I took the notebook into the bathroom to try to focus on it. It said things like "I hope Calliope doesn't find out...but I can't stop." The last entry of sleeping with someone was from just the weekend before and there was even one from the night before valentine's day. My heart broke.

I went into the living room and woke him up. "Have you been cheating on me?" I said.

"No. of course not. let's go to sleep," he said.

"I know you have!" I yelled." "i read this!!" I held up the notebook.

All of a sudden he went from asleep to wide awake. He picked me up by my dress and threw me to the floor. I screamed and he picked me up by my dress again and it ripped off. The bra ripped too. "you read it?!" he was yelling. He picked me up again and thew me against the wall. I slumped to the ground and started crying. He grabbed me by my hair and started trying to throw me against the wall or into the ground. "Get the fuck out my apartment!" he was screaming. He dragged me into the next room and the whole time I was screaming "please stop hurting me, please please!" finally he let go and there were chunks of hair all over me. I was sobbing. And not because I was hurt and bruised all over. Because I knew that was the end. That was the absolute end of our relationship. No matter what we would never be able to really be together because it was just over. he was a liar, a cheater, and now an abuser. no matter what, that was the final moment and that finality was devastating. there had been no warning, no slow let down, no discussion, just wham! 10 minutes. done. someone called the police. I was asked if I wanted to file a report. I didn't. I wish I had, but I hadn't had any time to process what was happening, I still wasn't even sober. We stayed together for a short while, but all I did was cry. I felt disgusted and violated but also so profoundly disappointed. So deeply sad. The one man I had ever really felt this way about and he was a perpetrator of domestic violence? someone who I could never trust? Even now it is hard to think about. I keep wishing it had never happened, that he had never cheated, that we were still passionate about each other. But he did and he did and we aren't and now he is in love with a girl 3 years younger than me who he claims to have changed for. I don't know how to feel about it, I just feel sad. 3 months ago we had gotten drunk and ended up making out but then he said he felt bad about cheating, and for some reason I just broke down because I felt like he was my great love and I had always loved him and he hadn't minded hurting me and now he suddenly minded hurting someone else? I was depressed for a week...deeply depressed. Sick depressed. I wanted to die. I stopped talking to him. Then he called me in the middle of the night from a taxi wanting to hook up...I said I was asleep. I was not. All I wanted to do was to have him come over, but my body would have revolted again. I wish I didn't still love him. I wish he were miserable.