I did something really awful, rather dishonorable, and altogether juvenile last night. Pretty much the 3rd worst thing you can do when you are dating someone you REALLY like- I looked in my boyfriend's blackberry while he was passed out drunk/sleeping.
And I saw something sort of bad in there (re: questionable fidelity).
And then I tried to wake him, firmly, but calmly to say what I had to say (which was basically accusing him of cheating).
And then, what? I took a gun out and shot my own foot off??
He was understandably upset that I had the nerve to read a text in his phone, and that we were even discussing it, but he held to the fact his actions have been spotless since we've been together. For the first time ever, we were both angry at each other. I offered to sleep in Helen's room, but he asked me not to. I was still very upset and went downstairs for a while.
Lloyd (Billy's old college roommate) and Helen were still hanging out and received me with open arms. They were very supportive; they think Billy and I have (had?) something worth working at and they both agreed that the text message I was upset about WAS in fact inappropriate, but that I should give him the benefit of the doubt on this one. I do acknowledge that texts are not the same thing as actions.
Remorse isn't a grave enough word. Not nearly. There are no words to explain how I wanted to swallow those ten stupid, awful minutes, so that they could never exist. Never see the light of day.
HOW COULD I HAVE DONE THAT??!! I'm sure I'd be irate if he'd gone snooping in my phone.
I went upstairs and crawled into bed and just said, "Billy? Can you please forgive me, I am sooo-" and he shushed my apology, said I was forgiven, and held me for a moment. We whispered small comforts and he fell back into a deep sleep, one where he didn't seem to know I was even there. I had a fitful night, incredibly INCREDIBLY embarrassed and fearful and so on, barely falling asleep before daylight crept in.