If you can sense that someone will hurt you, you’re probably right. They probably will hurt you.
But, what is most frustrating of all, is that you also know — in your heart of hearts, no matter what you may tell your friends — that it will feel too easy to forgive them. Regardless of what they’ve done.
They could cheat on you — vindicating their actions, to you and (more importantly) to themselves, with the excuse that “shit happens” under the wrong circumstances, when they’ve had too much to drink or when you’re out of town for the weekend.
They could fall off the face of the earth — keeping you wondering where they’ve gone or what you’ve done — and reappear in your life only when it is most convenient for them. When they’ve begun to feel lonely and just need a warm body to spoon, if only for a night or two.
They could spend an excessive amount of time trying to convince you that they are respectful, emphasizing that they have little sisters and moms and aunts who they treat well. And that, really, they are “good guys.” Always be wary of those who feel as though they need to convince you that they are good or respectful.
They could kiss you, despite knowing that they have a girlfriend of several years waiting for their call — their “sleep well” and “I love you, baby” and “I miss you so much” — at the end of the night.
You will loathe yourself for giving them, consciously or not, the power to batter and bruise your heart with as much abandon as they’d like. But, when they come to you, eyes downcast and hands wrung, the temptation to accept any form of apology or excuse or tiny-white-lie they could offer you will be strong.
Your heart and your head will wage a civil war within you, and though all of your practical sensibilities will encourage — no, will urge — your head to secede, your heart will prevail in this scenario. That stubborn little shit.
You will persuade yourself that this time will be different. This person will be different; he or she will not like be those who came before — those whose ghosts linger in your past yet manage to haunt your present. You will hope for the best while bracing for the worst, and somewhere, in the back of your mind, you will know that the worst is more likely than the best.
Your sense of trust is so great — too great, your friends sometimes warn — that you will continue to trust no one would ever willingly, knowingly hurt you. And you will stubbornly, adamantly refuse to believe otherwise.
But, when the worst comes (and you know it will), you will be consumed with an aboding sadness that threatens to tear you apart unless you keep your mind occupied elsewhere. So, you will keep your mind occupied elsewhere. You will tell yourself and those around you “onto the next one!” Because, underneath your casual light-heartedness, the mellow approach you always try to take towards these otherwise crippling situations, you will hurt.
They will hurt you. And you know that. But you will forgive them and you will hurt yourself instead.