Why does love got to be so sad?

You know, I've always loved the show, Cheaters. It never fails to make me laugh, the incredibly bad writing ("they disappear into their love recluse, to emerge hours later in a snug, clandestine embrace"), the funny confrontations ("Who's this bitch? Say! Who's this? Did you know he lives with me???") and the reassuring sense of at least my life isn't that bad. But I'm sitting here tonight watching it, just wanting to cry. These poor people who suspect their significant other of cheating...they're people just like me (pardon the really bad cliche), going along in their sad lives, trying to be with another person, giving them the benefit of the doubt when something odd happens, hearing their end of a phone conversation and having no idea what the they are really doing, trusting even when their rational mind is screaming what the hell???

Tonight, instead of being amused, it strikes me how really sad these stories are. From the moment they realize something is wrong, and meet with Joey Greco to learn what the 'investigators' found out, they have that worried but still hopeful look on their faces. Then as they watch the video proof of the cheating, which can be pretty damn upsetting, their expressions just fall. And then after the 'confrontation', during which time they're angry and pissed and screaming, they climb into the the Cheaters van, and it all falls away and they just cry and cry.

What kind of pitiful world is it where the person with whom you share your innermost secrets, emotions and fears can close that all off and pursue a relationship with someone else? Don't get me wrong, I know I wasn't cheated on...I just lost him somehow...but even so, that sense that you can never know what's going on in another person's heart is becoming more and more clear to me. It shouldn't be threatening - we're all individuals with complex histories and secrets - but nonetheless, it scares me how, in the end, you can't rely on anything.

We're all so trusting and hopeful, when the truth is that nothing ever works out the way we want it to, if it works out at all. As it says in one of my favorite Baudelaire/Robert Smith lines "No one ever knows or loves another..."