The Mess I Made
Okay, let’s be real. I messed up bad. Lied to my partner about some stupid stuff for months. Small things mostly – where I was, spending money, dumb stuff. Felt like digging a hole I couldn’t get out of. One night, the look on her face… god, it sucked. She knew. I couldn’t fake it anymore. My stomach hurt like crazy. The trust? Gone. Poof. Vanished. I felt like crap.
Time to Eat Crow
First thing next morning? I dragged my sorry self outta bed and sat her down at the kitchen table, coffee untouched. Didn’t try to make excuses, didn’t blame anyone else. Just straight up said, “I lied. A bunch. About [mentioned a few specific things]. And I am so, so sorry. I know I hurt you. I was wrong.” Yeah, silence hung in the air like thick smoke. I just let it sit. Let her feel whatever she felt. Didn’t try to fill it with excuses. Felt awful, but man, just admitting the bare bones truth felt like scraping rust off my soul.
Digging Up Every Ugly Bit
This part? Took days. Couldn’t do it all at once. Had to really think. I grabbed a notepad – like, an actual paper one. Sat in the quiet and made myself write down every single lie I could remember telling her. Even the tiny, stupid ones. Like “Yeah, I walked the dog” (when I totally forgot) or “No, I didn’t buy lunch out” (when I did). It was embarrassing! Seeing it all on paper… yuck. It wasn’t one big lie; it was dozens of little ones building a wall. Made me realize how deep the hole really was.
Answering the Awkward Stuff
Told her I had the list. Offered to answer any question she had, any time. Didn’t matter how uncomfortable. Remember last July? Yeah, told her I was stuck in traffic coming home late? Truth was, me and the guys grabbed beers. She asked about that later. Had to look her in the eye and say, “Nope, wasn’t traffic. Went to Lou’s Bar with Dave and Phil.” Awkward silence for sure. But I just stood there, feeling the heat rise in my face. No dodging. Just, “Yep. That’s what happened.”
Actually Doing the Right Thing
Words are cheap, right? Had to actually show up different. Made myself check in – genuinely. Going somewhere? Told her ahead of time, sent a text when I got there. Spending money? Started actually talking about it beforehand, even small stuff. If I said I’d handle a chore? I damn well made sure it got done, and I told her when it was done. Felt like I was retraining a muscle. Had to fight the old habit of just… not telling things. Had to push myself to be boringly honest about boring things. Every day.
Letting Her Call the Shots
This was the hardest. Realized quick I couldn’t demand she trust me again. Couldn’t say “Get over it” or “How long will this take?” She needed space? Okay. She wanted to check my phone randomly those first few weeks? Fine, handed it over, unlocked, tried not to flinch. Didn’t argue. She wanted to talk about how she felt – the hurt, the anger? I just listened. Didn’t get defensive, didn’t explain myself again. Just took it. Sat there like a sponge, absorbing all the crummy feelings I caused. Felt brutal, but what else could I do? I broke it.
So yeah. That’s the grimy play-by-play. Was it fixed overnight? Heck no. It’s still work, every single day. But sitting here months later, things are calmer. Talking feels easier, safer somehow. That scared look? Happens way less. It ain’t perfect, but it feels real. Takes constant effort, like watering a plant you almost killed. Still catching myself sometimes, needing to be honest instead of lazy. But showing up, doing the things, consistently? That’s what finally started moving the needle.
