“It’s love that leaves and breaks the seal; Of always thinking you would be real”

To know him is to walk outside in the hot summer sun with sunblock, a hat, and shades, and come back with a blistering burn. Everywhere. Yet, not knowing how it happened.

He is not debonair, well-dressed, or charming in any sense of the word. He appears to be a simple man. He loves his sports and follows New York teams, plus the San Francisco 49ers. He said he became a fan as a child and loved the team’s colors – red and gold. He adores the WNBA and is a longtime supporter of the UCONN Women’s Basketball team. During the March Madness, he watches every game of the tournament -- both the men’s teams and women’s. Every. Single. Match.

He plays fantasy video games and watches foodie videos on YouTube. He’s not motivated by a job title, status, or money. He’d rather dress in a pair of athletic shorts, the same t-shirt he’d worn all week, and slippers. Or athletic socks and sneakers if he goes out.

He drove the same car for almost twenty years, before it gave way. His replacement is newer model that’s ten years old. His favorite movie is Shawshank Redemption and he can perform Red’s parole lines in actor Morgan Freeman’s voice.

To hear this man was arrested for eliciting a child under sixteen is staggering and a reality I hadn’t been prepared to face. It was like hearing musician Dave Grohl, of the Foo Fighters and Nirvana, had a dark side.

But Dave did and so does he.

Even though his façade is award-winning and had me fooled for more than a decade, the veneer is cracking. Particularly once I opened my eyes to his social media.

For years, he told me the numerous women friends without mutual acquaintances were his massage therapist, hair dresser, or females he took on a date before I entered the picture. Now, I have to wonder if they were planted to make him look connected, desirable, or to give him options. Few are active on his page and the newest addition is a stunning brunette that leads me to believe she lives a less-than dignified lifestyle.

Despite their presence, it’s widely known we were a couple and he shared all of our vacation photos on his page, sometimes making them public.

Now, I realize it was a matter of maintaining an image, a wholesome representation. As with the pictures, the women are likely just for show. They are low-risk, no obligation, surface-level connections that don't add anything of genuine substance to his life. They're strangers, props. But, they may make him feel desirable. Or, they could be his sidepieces.

In truth, they're as deep as his reflection. Like him, they're a smokescreen. A performance. Like me, as I was to him, just a part of the act.

As I wake up and remove myself from his orbit, I see what’s going on backstage – the wires, masks, and scripts. I see it now clearly. These profile pictures with unfamiliar names are mere transactions. They’re hollow placeholders to help hide the chaos. They don’t offer what I did: truth, reality, and love. Now, I’m free to explore without the void of the unknown holding me captive.