I pity the un-betrayed When I was a small boy I was a shy boy, but I was blonde and cute and other little girls liked me. It was like this up until high school. There was no abuse other than alcohol back in those days. But girls, girls liked me. I was very conceited as a young man so you can imagine how much I DIDNT get laid when opportunities were offered left and right. I was up there in my head. Not a good place to be. Not in such frequency. Finally, I was betrayed by a girl and my best friend at the time. I remember it feeling as if someone was knifing me from within but the blade never reached skin surface so the injury was never apparent to anyone but me. No one understand the gravity of hurt. It’s in the eyes, in that dour look on a man’s face that hides anger and bitterness It’s the eyes of the man who’s survived and is cautious of the battlefield now. Betrayal. The mother of all lessons. I pity the people who haven’t been betrayed yet, at least once. Because there’s betrayal everywhere and from everyone. Behind every corner or sly smile or half-convincing promises — It lurks behind every love story ready to ruin itself. There’s betrayal in your fucking telemarketers at night. I pity the unbetrayed. For theirs betrayal will echo louder and hurt more than the rest of us. We already know.