Always a goddamn but. It was not enough. How could he love me if he didn't truly understand my past? How can he save me if he's never known heartbreak? He knew what he wanted, me, but what did he have to compare this experience to? How could he have been so sure?! I see now that this was purely my own internal workings vomiting itself onto a situation that most would have given their first born to have, but my first born was already promised to the deity who relieved me of Salmonella some years ago, but that is another story in and of itself. So, I left him. No other explanation other than I had to find myself. Bullshit, and he could see right through that. Bless his heart, he pursued me for almost as long as we had been together, the better half of 6 years. Again, I was in search of what I thought was love, and I knew what was there once before could never be again. Once I was woman enough to admit that, to relieve him of this unjust hold on his tender heart strings, he promptly married the girl with whom he'd been living with. Much to his unknown horror, this act of betrayal to a woman who presumed he had loved her wholeheartedly pleased by sadistic side to no end. It was then I knew that my view of love was still tainted and in need of solace.