To many people, Lance’s infidelity made him a monster. What they didn’t know was that it was making a monster out of me as well. I became possessive and controlling, and I allowed insecurity to lead me. He couldn’t go to the bathroom without giving me an explanation as to why he needed to go and how long he’d be there. Every moment he wasn’t at work I wanted him with me. Not because I wanted to spend time with him, I just wanted to make sure nobody else was. Initially, my reaction was warranted and I don’t think there are many people that would argue that he didn’t deserve it, himself included. After all, he had planted the seeds of insecurity and mistrust in our relationship, and my response was the harvest he was reaping. So I set my demands and he obliged every request I made. Every time his phone rang I wanted to know who was calling, every time someone messaged him, I wanted to read the message. He gave me passwords to everything he had that required one, and I watched his Facebook wall closer than secret service watches the POTUS. I couldn’t trust any of the relationships he had with women that I didn’t know (and some I did know) so I made him do, what I like to call, a Facebook friend audit. Together, we went through all of his friends and he had to explain to me who they were, if I didn’t feel comfortable he had to delete them.

For months, he and I lived like this. I gave orders and he complied. The more he complied, the more demanding I became. There was a point where he had no privacy because I had decided his privacy was a privilege, not a right. I literally had access to everything that he owned, with the exception of his work email, and that wasn’t enough for me. I had become obsessed with the thought of catching him in another mess and it became a rabbit hole I couldn’t dig myself free from. In my quest I never found new dirt, just more old stuff that kept adding fuel to my fire. Not enough to make me leave him, but enough to keep me digging. I read private conversations between him and other people, that weren’t for my eyes to see, and learned a lot about him in the worst kind of way.

Eventually he’d had enough of me playing Big Brother and changed all of his passwords. That slowed me down, but it didn’t stop me. I just shifted my energy from sifting through hundreds of emails, to seeing if I could crack his passcode before his device locked me out.  I remember one time in particular, I went to his job, took his iPod out of his car, drove to the nearby McDonald’s and connected to Wi-Fi to read his Facebook messages, because I knew he was logged into his account on that device. I didn’t find anything incriminating. To be honest, I’m not sure if I was disappointed or relieved that I never found anything. One would think that after repeatedly finding nothing that I would stop; however, this chase had become an addiction, and like every other addict, I fed it every opportunity I got.

To Be Continued

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