And then I (27M) met her, Kate (26F). She was amazing, everything I'd ever wanted. Really everything anyone would want. I had got the girl every guy wanted. The problem was, every guy still wanted her, and she knew it, and loved it.
I loved Kate with more passion and fierceness than anyone ever before. I threw myself into that relationship; every bit of my heart and soul I poured into it. I committed to being the best I could for her. I was so ready to love someone, and she seemed like the perfect fit.
Not perfect—she was flawed, of course, but in a way that made it all the more real. She had flaws, but what does that matter when it comes to matters of the heart? We love what we love; reason does not enter into it. In many ways, unwise love is the truest love. Anyone can love a thing because that's as easy as putting a penny in your pocket, but to love something despite, to know the flaws and love them too—that is rare and pure and perfect.
One day, we were going down an escalator, and I saw a text from her younger, slightly more immoral sister pop up: "Do you think Max XYZ is hot? I'm with Sam."
Three minutes later, she was in a foul mood. Foul. I, Sam, asked her what was wrong. She said nothing, her sister can just be really mean sometimes. She didn't know I'd seen some of the conversation.
The thing was, our relationship was built on good communication. When she didn't tell me something, I knew something was wrong.
Later that night, I got insecure, and I checked her phone. The messages to her sister had been cleared entirely. She was hiding something. I convinced myself she was protecting me. She was a good person with a good heart, a kind heart, someone worth loving who would never hurt me. So I didn't press it.
Fast forward a few months. She comes to live with me after doing a month long-distance. Something seemed off one day when she was writing in her journal. I asked her what she writes about; she declined to answer. We had a long conversation a few days later, "anything I need to know" type conversation—nothing again.
My insecurity got the better of me, and I cracked, and I read the journal. For our whole relationship, it was littered with entries such as:
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"Woke up and daydreamed about Max."
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"I know if I got the chance, I would cheat on Sam with Max."
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"I will regret this, not exploring with Max. I want an honest chance with him."
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"Sitting here waiting for Max to text me, I don't have the energy to talk to Sam."
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"Not only Max, I am thinking about intercourse with Sam and wishing it could be with Wyatt. I will never accept that Wyatt and I will not hook up."
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"Big weekend. Got drunk, cheated on Sam with Wyatt."