I Am "Hurt Bae"
I Am "Hurt Bae"

Video: I Am "Hurt Bae"

Video: I Am
Video: Hurt Bae Asks: Why Did You Cheat? Exes Confront Each Other On Infidelity (#HurtBae Video) The Scene 2024, May
Anonim

This Thursday an emotional video of a woman confronting her ex-boyfriend on his infidelity went viral on Twitter. The initial tweet has since gained 175k retweets sparking a massive trending topic, #HurtBae. "What ad ** k," I thought.

The video brought tears to my eyes, as it did for many, but my tears carried additional baggage because…

I am #HurtBae.

I met my ex-boyfriend at a party and our relationship moved quickly. My friends told me to take caution because he was known to be “the player type,” but I felt safe with him, as if I had known him my entire life. And just like that he became my best friend. Nothing was going to separate us, not even the fact that he had to move to the Dominican Republic to chase his dreams of becoming a professional sports player. I was ready to stand by his side through the many hardships that come with long distance because I was in love. I was so in love.

One year into our relationship, he left to live in a country over 1,500 miles away and the following months weren't easy- it was up and downs but we fought through it and he came back home for the holidays. I realized then that things were different. Our relationship felt distant and I started to feel suspicious that something was going on. Over the course of a few weeks, several confrontations, and snooping through his phone- I found out that…

he was cheating on me and it was multiple women

I remember everything from the moment I called her number. "What's your relationship with him?" I asked, knowing in my gut that they were more than friends. The girl, or rather, one of the girls, confirmed my suspicions. She told me that he had initiated everything and said I wasn't in the picture. My mouth went dry and I could feel my throat close up. I couldn't deny that he was cheating on me anymore.

I never understood the term "world-shattering" until that very moment

I hung up the phone, grabbed onto my chest and asked myself out loud, "Why me?" I was angry. I was sad. I was humiliated.

There I was, the girl who got cheated on. A statistic. The “foolish” girl that wanted to forgive him despite every cell in my body telling me not to.

But I am also the girl who left

I've had my share of relationships in the past and I'm no stranger to heart-break, but there is arguably no worse pain than getting cheated on. This guy had become my confidant, my best friend, my sidekick. He came into my colorful life only to leave and have it turn gray in response to his betrayal. He left me with nothing to hold on to and I felt as if every nerve in my body was relentlessly tearing itself apart.

I lost a part of myself

The worst part about getting cheated on is that when the relationship ends, the pain doesn't. The reason I hadn't wanted to acknowledge my suspicions before that phone call was because I didn't want it to become real-because once it becomes real, so does the pain.

and it hurts

I knew the entire time. And it's easy for someone to say, "Well, why did you stay?" But what happens between two people is never simple. It's logical to assume that you'd leave in a heartbeat, but you never know until it's you. In my relationship there came a point where I knew I had to trust my own judgment and step away from the denial- and yes, I did get little bit crazy. But you know what? There is no shame in that; dignity is overrated.

And I'm on my way to being okay

I am not one of the thousands of people that took to Twitter to express their opinions and reactions to the video. Watching it felt like getting punched in the stomach, but I am someone who took it and answered my initial question: "Why me?"

I may be in a love-bitter place right now, but after watching this video something resonated within me: even though it's hard to stomach being cheated on, I have one thing to say to all the #hurtbaes out there…

sh * t happens

And honestly, their f ****** loss.

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