One year ago today. Mack and I were making up after a breakup. On my office floor. He allowed himself to reunite with me, but only after I apologized and groveled after breaking up with him. Because he was wearing me out with all the arguments over imagined slights. Over his jealousy of a man I dated four years earlier. And because he lived with another woman. His “roommate.” (But no jealousy for me. My suspicions were going to kill our relationship.) So many lies. So many unbelievable lies that I pretended to believe. Why? To have a man around. It was the beginning of another “honeymoon” phase. And I wanted to believe his lies. I wanted the engagement ring I wore to mean something. I wanted the fantasy to be real.