The issue of trust is very human. It’s a humane concern.

We like to trust the truth. It gives us that sense of security. A human need.

No doubt, trust is an essential success factor in all relationships that has often been underrated.

It can make or break your relationships.

Let’s talk about romantic relationships. Now trust is not just limited to checking if your spouse cheated behind your back or not, it also emcompasses the belief in the truthfulness behind the reason a couple broke up.

Especially when it’s regarding your future spouse and their ex.

Especially if you care enough for something real. Sincere.

Consider this scenario:

A is your future spouse. B is A’s ex. A tells you Story A, the story behind the break up with B. Accordingly, A appeals to your better nature as the hero of the story. Story A makes A seem like the hero and B the villian.

Now, in order to be reasonably objective, it should be reasonable to hear B’s side of the story, no? All given truths should be taken with a pinch of salt. Otherwise, you’d be plainly biased. Or so you reasoned.

And so, you seek B. Eventually, B tells you Story B. Now Story B seem to share common grounds with Story A, yet, it blatantly contradicts it. Suddenly, Story A’s self-righteous prejudices seem apparent. It seems very side-taking.

Confused, you decide to ignore. You want to trust A. Up to the point when A reveals that A knows that you have been contacting B about the break up. A does not sound happy at all. A questions your trust in A, justifying A’s anger by saying that A doesn’t even go around looking for your ex-es to find out about you. You try to explain that you won’t stop A even if A wanted to dig up your past. You like to be honest, after all. You try to reassure A that you only want to listen to the other side of the story. You just want to be fairer in your judgment.

In response, A seems to angrily retaliate with a “I just don’t do it”.

And then it hits you. Although going to A’s ex, B, would make it seem as if you undermine your trust in A, you realize that A does not seem to have enough trust in you as well. Because A does not trust you enough to believe that you are doing what you feel right. That you did your research for a better understanding of A.

You did it because you cared.

Trust is only an issue if you don’t have it.

And you wonder to yourself: If there is nothing to hide, why does A feel so angry about you finding out the truth?

“Why so angry? Can’t B have their say?” You ask A.

A replies: “B can. But what do you think a bitter ex would tell you?”

Again, you wonder. Why would A care so much if they knew that they’re right all along? Why so insecure?

And after just this blown up, seemingly minor issue of trust, you also wonder who you can truly trust in the end.

You also wonder what the right question is, to ask, in order to get the answer you want.

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Trust also includes the belief in the authencity behind a spouse’s motivation in your relationship issues. Especially their integrity.

Think about how it feels like when you were uncertain about A to begin with. You tell A about your inner conflicts. A claims to accept. A begs for your trust. A promises you that A will be around no matter what happens.

After all, A is someone to be trusted. Someone you can trust.

Or so you’re led to believe. With A’s course of actions. For a while. Months.

Then you feel the need to sort out your own conflicts alone. You need to be by yourself and want to disappear for a while. You have a battle only you can fight.

And so, out of respect, you give A a notice and keep them updated as necessary, in case of any progress.

You expect to be respected likewise, when A disappears too, one day, for reasons yet to be known.

But ironically, you don’t get the same treatment.

A gives you no notice whatsoever.

And if you were to try to salvage the situation by contacting A because you think it’s worth it, and also because you have no better choice, knowing that inaction kills faster than action……

…you somehow get slapped. Restricted. Stopped.

Pushed away.

For what you don’t know.

As if you should know what’s going on.

Even if without a guide.

Even though in the past, you gave a guide. Out of obligation. Out of justice. You wanted to be fair.

You respected A.

A is still absent.

What goes in your mind when you double check with A’s excuse for the cause of the start of A’s retreat, A’s excuse tells you that they are as clueless as you are about the situation at hand?

Again, who do you trust?

A is still absent.

Then you wonder: Did A lie to me then, about respecting me so much that they can’t lie to me? Can’t afford to?

No, no, you don’t want to question your trust. You don’t want to question A’s integrity. Their faithfulness towards you.

But because you don’t know what’s going on even after you ask, beg, plead…

…and A is still fucking absent…

…you just feel so lost. No sense of control.

And you can’t read minds, thanks very much. So you wouldn’t know if you did anything wrong

Silence can hold the most complicated conversation.

It can be dead selfish too, since that it’s one way.

You wouldn’t really know what A wants. Or wanted.

Especially if A’s current want blatantly contradict what they wanted in the first place.

When A miraculously lose their feelings for you four days after telling you that they loved you. Fucking “loved” you for four months.

There is no consistency of knowledge for you to feel secure with. No logic.

So what’s the only reasonable way to sort this out? Sort yourself out?

Logically, perhaps, you could just do whatever you feel right at that moment. Call A up. Send A messages. Email A. Make A’s friends the middle men; the messengers.

To make yourself feel better. At least you do what you can. No regrets.

Though if someone really wants to shut you out, there is nothing you can do to change that.

Apathy is the opposite of care.

Funny, you think, since that this was a relationship A had been pushing for for a long time, shouldn’t relationship problems be our problem? The problem of both A and you?

Shouldn’t the both of you share the burden?

And then it hits you again:

There was never really any “us” all along.