When Synchronicity Speaks, Listen
I have a lover.
We make love all the time.
Skin on skin,
breath in breath,
our bodies know each other.
And yet—
there are others.
Others who were never invited by me.
We had an agreement.
When we are physically together—
in the same place,
the same bed,
the same ArtCamp—
then it is just us.
Only us.
That situation is ours alone.
And when we are apart,
in different cities,
in different worlds,
we are free.
Free to roam,
free to touch whoever we want.
But when we are together?
It is supposed to be sacred.
He couldn’t even do that.
I knew from the beginning.
I knew.
I wrote about him before,
because I felt it—
that he could not be faithful,
not in the way most people understand it.
So we shaped something different.
A situationship.
Closed when close.
Open when apart.
Simple.
Or so I thought.
I told him again and again:
There is nothing worse than lies and deceit.
I asked him,
from the deepest part of me:
Please, just tell me the truth.
I looked into his eyes.
And he looked back,
calm,
and said:
I’ve been honest with you.
We’re not in a relationship—
so why would I lie?
And I felt it.
The lie.
Thick as smoke in the room.
Lodged in my chest.
But love—
oh, love.
I was so in love with the idea of being in love
that I turned away from myself.
The signs came.
Fifteen times, maybe more.
Life whispering,
look closer.
And they always came in threes.
Three women,
walking through my dreams,
through my days:
One—
staying at the same hotel as us,
while we were there,
together.
Two—
our therapist,
someone we trusted with our words.
Three—
a friend of ours,
at an art camp we had just attended.
Three women.
Three warnings.
And still,
I closed my eyes.
Until one day,
I prayed.
I asked,
give me a sign I cannot deny.
And the sign came.
He told me he bought condoms for us.
For ArtCamp.
For us.
But when I saw the box,
it had already been opened.
Three were missing.
Three.
Three women.
Three missing.
In that moment I knew.
Whether it was one person three times,
or three different people,
I knew.
I said to him:
I’m leaving now 🫠.
Stay safe, and please always be honest with me.
I would rather know the truth than feel lies, guilt, or deceit—
please keep that in mind.
I am glad you use protection with other girls.
The reason I was upset is because you said you bought those for us,
but when I looked, three were missing.
So I’m guessing you had sex with someone at the camp.
I don’t care if you have sex outside of camp,
but this—
this really hurt me.
And here is what hurts most:
We had an agreement.
That when we are together,
physically together,
there is no one else.
But there were other people.
People I did not invite.
And it almost broke me.
Almost.
But I caught myself before I shattered.
I pulled myself out of that situation.
I forgave him,
and I forgave myself
for wanting so badly to believe.
I am whole again.
This is what I learned:
When your soul whispers to you,
listen.
When the signs come
again and again,
listen.
Even if it breaks your heart.
Even if you don’t want to believe it.
Because love built on lies
is only the shadow of love.
And your heart
always
knows
the truth.
