Weekend blues

So, this weekend was not the greatest. I went to try and get my hair done friday, only to run out of time. You called me that morning to tell me something, and that was fine. Then you called me again to see how I was doing. You told me that you were still going to get married. That was fine. Then you called me to tell me that we couldn't screw around anymore because you were going back to work for the school. I told you that I wasn't a student there anymore, and you said you didn't know that. You said that opened up a couple of possibilities. I still don't understand what you meant by that. Then you asked me if you were a player. I laughed and told you that you don't want to know the answer to that question. You said you were serious, so I asked you point blank, how many women do you talk to on a daily basis that you have had sexual contact with in the last 2 months?
"Oh god, right out there in the open, huh?" I told you that your were the one that wanted to know. So you said, Your Love, Me and 1 or 2 others. Then you backtracked and said 2 others. I told you that yeah, you were a player. It hurt. I knew better. I knew better than to get involved with someone like you. I should never have even bothered you. I deleted your number from my phone that night. It didn't do me any good, since I practically memorized it in the first place, but I still resisted the temptation to call you or text you. I didn't bother you for most of the weekend. You told me that you would help me move today, which you said you still will, and that you would pay me from hauling that trash from your house. Every time we have talked since then, it has been all business and no pleasure. I am wanting to see you so bad, but at the same time, I would rather not see you ever again. I wish you would disappear. I miss you terribly, but I don't need someone like you in my life. I miss how we used to talk on the phone all the time, how you would call me 5 times a day, how you would tell me I was amazing and beautiful and sensuous. Then you stopped when I told you how I felt. You played me so smooth, and it hurts. You proved to me, more so than anyone, that you are just like every other guy that is out there. You are worse than most guys because you pretend to care.
I wanted to talk to you this morning because today is moving day. I have already been to the house and grabbed my boxes and my clothes. I forgot the clothes on hangers, so I had to turn around and go back. My husband was standing in the bedroom that is tore apart, crying. I told him I was sorry, grabbed my clothes and left. I started bawling down the road. I feel terrible. This is what I need to do right now, I know it in my heart. I don't like breaking his heart, but I have to follow mine, and it still hurts. It hurts a lot more now that it is final, that I am officially moving out, then it has as I have been living with others for the last 7 weeks. I really want to talk to someone about this, and everyone who I thought cared has left me and is not there. Yet again, I am on my own. I will figure it out, I always do. I will make do on my own, as usual. I am strong enough. I just wish someone would care enough to hold my hand without me asking them to.