Essie: Technical Truths

October 8, 2023

Dear Diary,

Two weeks. It's been two weeks since I overheard Marcus on that phone call, two weeks since I put an end to his masquerade. I'm still angry and hurt but also proud of myself for facing this differently than I might've a year or so ago– when you know better, you do better.

The words of our conversation still echo in my head, especially on the couple of evenings I'd become accustomed to spending with him each week.

"Marcus, I know you're still married."

The silence that followed was deafening. Five seconds that stretched into eternity before he attempted damage control.

"Essie, it's complicated. If you'd just let me explain—"

"Is your divorce finalized?"

Another pause. Shorter this time.

"Not technically, but—"

"Do you have a daughter named Nylah that you never mentioned?"

"How did you—"

"I was at the restaurant early. I heard your phone call on the sidewalk."

I remember feeling surprised at how my voice didn't even sound like my own—steady, matter-of-fact, detached. Inside, parts of me were crumbling, but Ester led this conversation, and she needed zero help holding herself together. Strange how clarity can feel like both the darkest and the brightest moments at the same time.

He launched into a tangled web of explanations: Yes, he was still legally married, but they'd been separated for two years. Yes, he had a seven-year-old stepdaughter he hadn't mentioned because he "wanted to be sure about us before introducing that intricacy". The divorce was taking longer than expected because of financial entanglements. His "ex-wife" was "being difficult" about alimony and the division of assets.

"I was going to tell you everything soon," he insisted. "I just needed to find the right time...and the right words to explain it."

"The right time was before our first date, and the right words would've been any that were true." I replied.

When he started to protest again, I cut him off. "Marcus, I'm not interested in being anyone's 'work thing' while they figure out their marriage. And why have you been lying to her about us anyway?"

"Essie, please. What we have is real. Don't throw it away over a technicality. I've never met anyone like you– or in the ways that I met you. I was afraid to miss out on exploring our connection, afraid you'd reject a married man even though I've been trying my best to have things finalized. If she knew that I was serious about you, she would just find more ways to prolong the process. She thinks she can manipulate me, wear me down until I agree to go back to her. And she uses Nylah to make me feel guilty."

A technicality. As if not telling me about his contentious divorce were like forgetting to mention that "Marcus" is only his nickname.

"It's not about a technicality, Marcus. It's about a deliberate lie. And all the little lies that came after to support the big one. I thought we had something real, too, but we can't build anything real on a false foundation. I deserve to make informed decisions based on honesty and transparency. And, frankly, so does your wife– even if you are separated. I do wish you the best, Marcus," I said and ended the call.

...

He's texted most days since—more explanations, apologies, pleas for another chance. He said he's trying to respect my decision but can't stop thinking about us. Last night, he showed up at my apartment with flowers. I didn't answer the door. Just watched through the peephole as he eventually set them down and walked away. I left them there until this morning when Mrs. Davis from across the hall asked why I was letting "perfectly good flowers from a perfectly handsome young man go to waste." I told her she could have them; she smiled warmly, put her hand on my arm, and said, "Don't be too hard on him now, girl."

Am I being too rigid? That's what my sister, Ru, suggested when I finally broke down and told her everything three days ago. "Men lie, Essie, and for far worse reasons. At least this one seems to care about you. He's not living with his wife, and, technically, that's not even his child."

Technically.

"That's not the point, Ruth." I didn't even need to roll my eyes because I only call her Ruth when she's on my nerves. "His situation wouldn't have been an automatic dealbreaker if he'd just explained it early on. It's the intentional deception, lying to me day after day, that I can't get past. How would I ever trust him?" I countered. She shrugged her shoulders. "Be single then, Boo." At that, I did roll my eyes.

Jess sees it differently, thank God. "You absolutely did the right thing," she assured me over wine and ice cream last Friday. "If he'll lie about something this fundamental, what else would he lie about?"

Pastor Wilson even chimed in unknowingly through her sermon last Sunday. "Sometimes what appears to be divine orchestration is actually a test of our discernment," she preached. "God doesn't lead us into anything that does not reflect His character."

Her words have been reassuring, but they don't stop me from wondering how I'd almost failed this test. Was it because the coincidences seemed so meaningful? Were they just random chance after all? Or worse, were they also deliberate? Did he happen to be at that coffee shop because he followed me there? Was our intention to grocery shop on the same day another thing he lied about after hearing me mention my plans?

So many questions remain– the scariest one being how will I know when someone is actually worthy of me lowering my guard?

And, if I'm being honest, Ru's words lurk alongside the questions. What if I never find that connection again? What if choosing what I believe to be integrity always means choosing to be alone?

I try to remember what Daddy always says: "Better alone than in bad company." He's right. I know he's right, but knowledge doesn't always ease the loneliness of an empty bed...or silence the ticking of my biological clock.

Yesterday, I finally deleted all our pictures from my phone. No point in continuing to relive what was literally too good to be true.

Looks like I'm starting over yet again. Processing another disappointment. Rebuilding the walls I'd started lowering for a man who didn't deserve my trust. But maybe I don't need to build them so tall this time. "You know," Jess had continued, taking a slow sip of her wine, "Brandon asked about you a few weeks ago. I told him you were seeing someone, but now..." She raised an eyebrow and took another sip.

Part of me thinks I need to heal from this betrayal before even thinking about dating again. But what does that look like? They say time heals all wounds, but how long does it take?

Another part wonders if I should stay in the dating world now that I've found myself here. I could take with me the lessons I learned in this experience with Marcus. Surely, there's someone out there who won't ask me to compromise my standards, who will offer truth from the beginning.

I just don't know if I have the energy to find out right now.

Until next time,
Essie

Now, it's YOUR turn!

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2. Stay tuned to see (and continue shaping) how the story unfolds!

If you missed part one ("What Are the Odds?") or two ("All Kinds of Shadows") of Essie's story, catch up here!