Why did she tell him things about me, that I had long since told him? Did she think I would hide anything from him? The fact that she and her fuck buddy are natural liars (in things of consequence, as well as things of no import) and have a deep-seated terror of being truly known by anyone else–or being known by themselves, maybe–doesn’t mean the rest of us are like that.

Any time I messaged my alleged friend (her fuck buddy) within a few hours, she had responded by sending half-truths and whole truths and outright fantasies to my love, trying to get him to dislike or distrust me. He asked me a dozen times or more (I like the romance of the phrase, “a dozen times or more,” but in reality, he probably asked 40 or more times, in about two months) if he could please just block her, and let’s be done with her obvious, weak-minded efforts at shit-stirring; he found it unutterably dull, more than anything else, but he also saw that it upset me to see how much she had lied in pretending to be my friend, and how desperate she was to hurt me, despite my still trying to wish her well.

The more my “friend” took her side, and made excuses for her behaviour–all the while playing on her well-documented instability, and trying to have us both in his life, without either committing to her properly or agreeing that we had a right to protect ourselves from her, i.e. by blocking her texts and other messages–the more it became clear, we couldn’t remain friends. Eventually, he was only contacting me to complain about my Vaguebooking (yes, often about this situation–but minus names, and if he felt guilty when he read some of the particulars, he should’ve tried to make amends, not harass me for offloading about my own hurts) and so I blocked him, and her, and several of the other people who had harassed me on Facebook, the previous year. (By harassment, I mean criminal offences–cyber bullying, threats of bodily harm, slander/libel, etc–which I was too forgiving, and too loyal to my “friend”, to go to the police about.)

I’m happier, now. I try not to think of them at all, or if I must, to remember their good points… that, I concede, is a struggle. What is the “good point” of two people who (with the benefit of hindsight plus the counsel of your loved ones) you now believe only ever lied to you and used you?

The main comfort I have, is that two such consummate liars deserve each other. They proved, repeatedly, that they were most adept at lying to themselves… so whether they’re happy or not, perhaps they’ll convince themselves they are, and stay together. I can’t think of many fates worse than that–so even if they enjoy living in a web of mutual falsehood, I can’t actually comprehend that, and deep down, I think they must be suffering in a way they’ve earned. And were they happy in truth, I’d still be done with them, and grateful for it.

But. Little things still niggle at me, from time to time, and yes, I’ll admit, still make me angry… the thought that she, a two-faced bitch who was lying the entire time she knew me, thought she could tell my (now) husband *anything* about me, that he didn’t know? Who the fuck does she think she is?

No. Who the fuck does she think I am, to keep secrets from the man I love and will spend the rest of my life with… does she think I’m her?