What makes the perfect crime? The criminal? The actions? The strategy? I believe it is the ability to leave the crime scene so spotless that the crime itself enters the “Unsolved Mysteries” file. After being the victim of more than one perfect crime, I finally understand how and why the perpetrator gets away with it each time. At first I wondered as to how they experience no ounce of guilt or fear inside of them for what they have done. I mean I spent almost one year swimming in my guilt when I “dumped” the first serious guy I ever had (dumped is quoted because I can’t really say we were dating, just more along the lines of taking the Islamic steps towards marriage when I realized it wouldn’t work). But how come so many people just left me for dead without any worries? I figured out this mystery through the use of my own forensic science of the heart and mind. They did it because they knew that they can and will get away with it.
They do not experience any guilt as they transgress their boundaries with us. They dare themselves and overstep these limits just enough to leave a hairline fracture upon our hearts. But dare we open our mouths and let out a moan from the pain that we mysteriously came to endure and they will immediately back away with the pathetic disclaimer of “Well I didn’t do anything.” You hear it and the anger begins to boil inside of you. “You didn’t do anything? What about all those words and flirts and calls and e-mails and stares and actions and dates? Those were nothing?” It is what you want to say but you cannot.
Like a detective you begin the investigation. Searching, analyzing and rethinking every step he ever took and it hurts. You come to the conclusion that he made his moves, all the moves he could at this point. He left his marks and hurt you good. But all the evidence you have gathered is circumstantial. Nothing can be pinned against him. And if he were to be tried for this case, he could and would walk free. In the middle of the courtroom, beneath your heavy tears, you scream out the things he put you through and he smiles—wide. His lawyer shouts out, “Objection your honor. Her evidence is entirely circumstantial. Nothing can be linked back to my client.” By the end of the trial, the jury, although emotionally siding with you, will have no choice but to give yet another man the benefit of the doubt. He and his over priced suit will walk out unscratched. And you, well you will be left to deal with your damaged heart and loneliness all on your own. Inside you feel angry and helpless—you can do nothing. All you have are your tears for the jury. You cannot even demonstrate the fracture he inflicted upon your heart. His actions had no labels, no traces, no fingerprints to incriminate him. So he can get away with anything. And he does.
Just because I received no ring, I receive no attention. I got calls and chats and e-mails and text messages, and dates, but that is all useless evidence—things I cannot put in front of the jury. For each one he has an alibi, some excuse that he can use to get out of it. “I was just being a friend.” “I didn’t mean any of it.” “You shouldn’t have taken anything personally.” Really dear, is that all? I find it fascinating that men expect us to exercise complete self-control when it comes to the way we intake and define their actions, but they are free to exercise zero self-control as they make every sickening move in their games with us. I hear it all the time. “You can’t listen to your heart and take every flirtatious word meaningful.” Why? “Because men are always playing. That’s just the way they are,” they say. Well why doesn’t anyone ever tell the man, “Shut up and stop, because women can take it personally…and THAT’S JUST THE WAY THEY ARE?”
