I was a good girl once.
Daddy's little girl, mama's pride, teacher's pet, outstanding student, loyal friend, devoted girlfriend, dedicated WWE diva. That's how I've been defined my whole life, that's who I've been my whole life. Up until 6 months ago, at least.
Why, what happened then?
Easy, really, I became the secret lover of a married man.
Yes, I, all around lovely and sweet little Tiffany went and did the unthinkable – what was unthinkable for anyone who ever laid a single glance on me, what was unthinkable for myself to begin with.
But I did it nonetheless, and I don't regret it the tiniest bit. How could I ever regret the choice of allowing myself to feel a love so strong, so pure, so life changing? How could I ever regret to love a man who makes me feel so alive for the first time in my life?
Easy, you would say, you could've stuck to the labels everyone has assigned you since day one and do the right thing: don't give into temptation. Well, sometimes life isn't always so easy and sometimes things aren't always either black or white – there's a whole range of grays in between.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to justify myself in anyway. I knew what I—what we did was wrong, I knew it since the very first moment our eyes met… but that didn't stop me. Evidently.
I know what you're thinking, oh trust me, I do. "To hell with the good girl, you're just a sneaky little bitch who's trying to steal a man from his family, you whore." Close enough, right? Masochistically enough I've read enough comments about the generic topic on the net that you'd be surprised to know in how many ways –and languages- I can insult myself at this point.
You know what else I've learnt? That with high probabilities you won't even try to understand my point of view or listen as I say that you have to find yourself in my shoes and feel it on your own skin to be really able to judge, so I won't waste breath on articulated details. You'll end up believing what you'd prefer to believe anyway. Allow me just one thing, though: IT IS LOVE. It never was just a matter of lust or passion in between us – we kept our relationship completely innocent for the following 4 months after we first became colleagues and then friends. None of this was planned, it wasn't even contemplated… but then it grew for both of us the more we got to know each other and in the end we weren't able to fight it anymore.
"Hey Rapunzel, ready to cave out from your hiding place and go kick some butts?"
I playfully roll my eyes at the nickname choice as Kelly thus addresses me from the doorframe of our locker room, and as I glance at both our reflections in the full length mirror in front of me I have to fight a frustrated cry. Look at me, in my cheerleader-like gear and with these big brown eyes and blonde tresses I still play perfectly the role of the good girl while everybody's still ready to call my in-ring partner a slut with no good reason at all. How ironic is life?
"He still hasn't called?" She mistakes my involuntary sigh for something too close to reality and in response I find myself offering the usual fake smile that would suggest I'm perfectly fine with the situation.
"He's at home tonight, he will call as soon as he can." I easily shrug it off.
Is that the truth? Yes. Is that enough? No.
Because it's never enough, never quite enough… the time we can manage to spend together, the time he can dedicate to me, the minutes we can spend on the phone – never quite enough. And you know what's the worst? That I have no one to blame but myself for this. I knew exactly how things were going to be in between us the moment I walked into this situation, he never led me to believe anything different from the honest truth – this was all he could offer me and I was aware of that.
I wish that was enough to live it in all serenity cause if you think I have peace of mind you're definitely mistaken. I live eternally in fear that he won't call, that he won't come when he said he will, that every day's gonna be the one when he tells me we're a mistake and wants us to end our affair.
It hurts, it hurts so much. But the moment he presses me against his chest and I hear his heartbeat going crazy I forget everything… until the next time.
Cause there's always going to be a next time when I end up being disappointed, insecure, scared, depressed… there always is. What do I do? I wait. I wait for better days, I wait for the good moments to come again, I wait for him. That's all I do. I sit down in my hotel room or back at home and wait for him to find even 10 minutes to dedicate to me. Over and over again.
Why? I don't know. No, scratch that, I do know. Because I love him. As simple and cliché as that. I'm here, a beautiful and strong young woman of 25 who could have probably anyone she wanted… yet I've decided to waste the best years of my life waiting for something that won't happen. Cause I know it won't… in the end he won't leave the comfort and security of his marriage, of a life already decided... and we won't have the future together I'm still, foolishly enough, hoping for. Cause I do hope we'll end up together like in a fairytale, with our true love winning on all the obstacles we're going through now. Even when I know I can't allow myself the luxury of hoping.
"Alright, let's go Kells, we have business to attend." I confidently nod while wrapping my arm around my friend's shoulders as we make our way outside.
"That's my girl." She smiles, pleased by my apparent mood lifting. "So, plans for tonight? After we defeat dumb and dumber, I mean, of course."
I hint a simple giggle at the sarcastic comment, avoiding to give an answer – what could I say, anyway? My plan is always the same: waiting. Is there anything else to do for a girl in love with the wrong man, anyway?