To Repent or Not To Repent

I like to go to Post Secret every now and then. Sometimes I feel touched, sometimes I feel sad, and sometimes, I feel the overwhelming need to confess a secret of my own. The thing is, I don't really have one. I have thought about it many times but I can't really think of anything to admit that would be as moving as the things I read on PostSecret. Nothing I have to admit is consequential enough to really mean anything to anyone else.

The one thing I have done that I am really ashamed of, I am not really sorry for. Have you ever done something you knew was very very wrong, but for which you were not remorseful?

When I was in highschool, I met R. He was tall and dark and being new, somewhat mysterious. I was instantly attracted to him. But he was seeing another girl at the time (should have caught a clue from that) and I refused to go out with him because of it. He told me they broke up and we began dating. I realized when she hit me over the head with a broom that he hadn't been entirely truthful about things. And still, I spent the next six years of my life with the bonehead. We moved to Georgia so he could go to college. I left my home and my family and moved 900 miles away to work while he went to school. The plan was, of course, that after he got his degree, he would support us while I went to school. Unfortunately, that's not quite how things worked out.

Why? Because we met G and K. They were a married couple who were quite a bit older than us. We thought they were the epitome of sophistication. Looking back I realize that they were really just middle aged losers with a penchant for good pot and an aversion to honest work. They would much rather hang out in the hot tub listening to Motley Crue and smoking themselves senseless. Nevertheless, I became best friends with K, and R became best friends with G. The four of us did everything together. We went to concerts, we went to strip clubs, we went to Spring Break and Mardis Gras. We lived La Vida Loca baby.

On the surface, it was all fun and games. But there was this nagging doubt that I kept pushing to the back of mind, refusing to acknowledge. But I knew it was there. And one day, when I found out R and K were sleeping together, I realized the folly of ignoring that inner voice and that feeling in the gut. My fiancee and my best friend were having an affair, literally, right beneath my nose and that of her husband. During her tearful confession I learned that their very first sexual encounter occurred in the kitchen of G and K's house while G and I were in the living room. It was New Year's Eve, and we had just finished toasting the new year. Auspicious, no?

For an entire year I let R talk me into believing he had broken off all contact with her. I believed him when he said it wouldn't happen again, even after I caught him with her. Again. And again. And again. The night another friend called me and said R was in a restaurant with K celebrating her birthday, I had finally had enough. I didn't buy his excuse about her being "lonely" because G had divorced her, and that he was just trying to be a "good friend". I wanted to. Oh how I wanted to believe him! But I couldn't swallow his lies any longer. I left him and took nothing but my clothes, a few personal belongings, and....a diary of hers that she had given him as a gift. It contained all her most secret thoughts; her sexual fantasies, their sexual exploits, her hopes for their future together, her feelings about me and how she sometimes fantasized about seeing me bleed. He thought he had hidden it pretty well the big Dipshit.

I let everybody we knew read this diary. I gave it to another friend who let all his army buddies read it. It was a pretty gripping read and those with whom I shared it devoured it like a Danielle Steele novel. I wanted to hurt her as she had hurt me. I wanted her to PAY for what she had done. Not just for sleeping with my fiancee, but for making me doubt my own worth and blame myself for not making him happy enough. You can imagine how much satisfaction I derived from the snickers and guffaws and her resultant humiliation. It was a horrible thing to do. And yet, even recognizing that, I cannot be truly penitent.

They are married now, and in hindsight I realize he and I would never have been happy together. What happened hurt, but it was really for the best. I moved on and made a life with a man worth ten of him, who has never, ever given me reason not to trust him. But I will never forget how I almost let him get away, because I was so wounded that I didn't think I'd ever be able to trust another man ever again. Even after I finally banished him from my life, R and his philandering continued to wreak havoc on it. Does any man really understand the kind of emotional damage he does to a woman when he is unfaithful? Does he understand that the repercussions last long after the thrill of conquest has passed? I don't think so.

I should repent for that awful deed, but....isn't remorse an essential component of repentance? I am not proud of having done something so mean and spiteful and wrong. But I can't honestly be sorry. And that is my confession. I am not sorry for that horrible vengeful thing I did fifteen years ago when my heart and soul were raw and bleeding.

I rarely think about R any more, but when I do, the anger is mostly gone. God, we were so young. What 21 year old guy posesses the emotional maturity to build and sustain a healthy long term relationship? I know there are some, but for the most part, young men are just giant walking penises. The wisdom and perspective I have gained over the years have helped me understand that his dysfunctional relationship with his father drove him to do things which assured him of his value as a human being. Successfully seducing women made him feel strong and powerful when his father made him feel weak and small.

I used to think that R would eventually do to K what he did to me, and it gave me a measure of satisfaction to know that Karma would get her in the end. But although I am not sorry for what I did back then, I no longer hope that their relationship is torn apart by infidelity. I hope they are happy. I hope he has found peace. I hope she never has to feel as sick and scared and sad as I did when they betrayed me. I hope she never has reason to question her worth as a woman and a human being. I hope...they are happy.

Maybe I will write Post Secret afterall.