Posts Tagged ‘blackberry’

Trust is a 4-letter word

February 19, 2011

Ok, so I’ve been having some issues with trust lately – hence my last post.  And I have a cold which is exacerbating everything.  But tonight was one of those evenings that if I didn’t write about it, would just fester in my head.  It’s been a couple of days (honestly more time than that) since I’ve been struggling with how much I can or really want to trust my ex-MM/BF.  The issue with his parents is galling and has been gnawing at me for a long time, which caused the eruption on the phone the other day but the precipitating cause was different.

A couple of years ago, MM was traveling to another state on business.  He was with a couple of vendors.  One of them invited a woman friend to join them, which she did.  The next thing I knew, MM had “friended” her on Facebook.  He likes to amass people on his friend list.  Interestingly, he develops a relationship with her where they speak.  How do I know?  Because he told me that he shared some sage advice I had given him with her, and how smart he sounded.  I wasn’t really happy about that then.  Of course, the old maxim “once a cheater, always a cheater” played on a loop in my head. 

Then she shows up on his business networking contact list and thinks nothing of asking him to help a “friend of hers” find a job.  None of this makes me too happy, and I tell him that I don’t really understand the need he has to be her friend.  He tells me that I’m foolish to worry, there’s nothing going on, he loves me, blah, blah, blech!  So I let it go.  OF course the absurdity is that he’s married and sleeping with me.  What’s to say that he wouldn’t be with someone else?  Once a cheater . . .

I subsequently learned that she was getting divorced through a posting on Facebook.  (Ah, isn’t that just the way of the world these days.)  And still, I don’t say anything, don’t mention anything.  Flash forward to Thanksgiving 2010.  MM is in the midst of his divorce, we’re a “couple” and his joining me and my family for the holiday.  I don’t know why he’s passed me his blackberry, but I see that he was texting this woman as he was driving up to be with me.  I said that I was surprised he was speaking with her and he makes to reach for his blackberry which I give to him saying that there must be plenty to hide if he doesn’t want me to see it.  (Of course, the last time he had his blackberry taken from him and read – his wife learned a whole heap o’shit!)  He tells me that he has nothing to hide and tells me to read the texts.  And they are in the order of him giving her his new cell phone number, telling her to call him because he’s in the car for a few hours going upstate, but at no time does he mention that he’s coming to see ME!!  The emails have to do with how hard the holidays are when you’re single/getting divorced and he  empathizes, but doesn’t say that he’s not alone!  I was furious!  I tell him that I don’t quite understand the “need” he has for this “friendship” and that I would like him to not be friends with her.  I can think of only one other time that I ever asked that of anyone (shockingly it was him) and that was from a work situation.  He refused.  He told me that I was over-reacting and that there was nothing going on.  I told him that’s how I felt, and that there were men that I was friendly with that made him uncomfortable that I was no longer friends with or had limited “work only” contact with.  Once a cheater. . . Not to mention, that for the most part, men don’t often want to be “just friends” with women.  And if in fact that’s what happens . . . we all know how emotional relationships/friendships/affairs move to the physical. 

Then 2 days ago he posts something on facebook to which she commented.  And I thought it was more “intimate” than it should have been.  When I asked him, he told me that he only spoke with her about his ex-w so she meant it as a reference to her.  I told him that I was done.  First he tells me she knows all about me, but not my name, then he says that they only spoke about his ex-w, then he doesn’t ever remember his stories or keep them straight.  This was what precipitated the fight about his parents, about this woman.  I told him that I wanted him to unfriend her which of course led to the comment that if I didn’t trust him, then we have bigger issues.  Yup.  He’s right.  We have bigger issues.  Yup.  He’s right.  I don’t trust him.

Tonight.  Ah, tonight.  x-MM/BF was hosting his daughter’s slumber birthday party.  WOW.  My kids would rather not have a party if their only choice was to be with their father, but his daughter ASKED him to host it.  (I guess he’s not all bad.  😉 )  They were going to a hibachi restaurant first and then the girls were going to come over.  He learns in the late afternoon that his daughter has asked his ex-W to come to the restaurant.  (I’m sure it played out differently than that, since his daughter got her ‘nails and hair’ done with his ex-mother-in-law today, I have a feeling it went something like: mommy’s so sad that you didn’t ask her to come to your party today – that the kid was guilted into asking her.)  And of course, the ex-w said yes.  Really?!  What a shock.  So these were the texts:

Him:  Heading out.  I’m a little stressed.  Daughter asked mother to be at the restaurant.  Not psyched about that.  Look fwd. to getting back home with the girls.

Me:  You’ll be fine.  In the future,  u need to be clear with daughter.  Not to mention ex-w should have said no.

Him:  I feel shitty.  I can be the best dad in the world, but a dad can’t compte with a mom.

Me:  Not true.  Ever.  Don’t say that.  She’s playing u.  U need to set the rules.  Besides, daughter wanted to have her party with YOU!!!  I’m sure her grandmother said: mommy is so sad that she wasn’t invited . . .

Him:  I wish u were here   🙂

Me:  Next year.  And I wont let you be manipulated.

Him: Ok

Me:  Did ex-W show up?

Him:  Yes

Me: Ugh.  She’s horrible.  Tell her you expect that she pay for herself.

Him.  She’s paying half, so that’s good.  She’s all chatty and social with the couple at the end of the table.  What’s up with that?  Daughter asked her to be here and wanted her here and she’s not even talking to her.  I feel shitty.  Haven’t said a word to her.

Me:  You should have told daughter that it was your party for her that mom can do another one.

Him:  Just noticed that didn’t have dinner, just a drink.  What’s up with that?  She told son that she was having dinner later.  What the f? 

10 mins and I hadn’t responded and he says: R u there?

Me: Yes, I’m here.  Always.  helping my daughter clean her room.  Ex-w is disgusting & cruel.  She’s pathetic in the truest sense of the everything.  She’s all alone with her misery & herpes.  If she was so happy, she wouldn’t be putting on a frenetic show for everyone.  Very sad.  It’s all a facade.  She doesn’t have and has never had any friends.

Him:  I feel like the antisocial one.  I’ve been paying attn to son and taking pics of the girls.  She’s chattering on with the couple sitting at the end of the table like she’s Ms. Popularity.  And the kids are still paying attn to her.  Oh, and she’s dressed and perfumed for her date.

Me:    It’s a show with her costume and makeup.  If she were happy she wouldn’t behave like that.  She wouldn’t try so hard to convince everyone that everything was great.  And the sad truth is, but for her mother and the match.com guy who gave her herpes, she has no one.

Him:  Who knows.  I feel bad.  She just took off – overheard the guy tell her to have fun at her dinner party.

Me:  Really????????  Who knows??????????  Come on.

Him:  I don’t know.  Maybe she has a whole bunch of friends now.

Me:  Quick.  If you run after her, I bet you can still catch her.

For me, that was the final straw.  I couldn’t “listen” to the whiney, pathetic, whoa is me, drivel.  Shit.  If you want to be with her, be with her.  Stop your fucking whining already!!!!  I couldn’t take it.  He called me as soon as he got the kids home and I blasted him.  I’m not the one to make him feel better about his divorce!  Are you insane!!!!  All of sudden his ex-W is dressed up going out, lying about where and with whom and what???  He feels sorry for himself?  Boo fucking hoo.  I was yelling at him on the phone.  He wanted me to make him feel better about the father/mother dichotomy, he said.  No, he wanted me to make him feel better that his ex-w was going out and he was stuck home, that she was pretending to be something that she wasn’t and never was, because it would make him jealous that she was NEVER that way with him.  She wins!  Again!!!  When they were discussing the divorce, she must have told him a million times, that she wasn’t interested in dating, that she’s a homebody and that she was just going to get her life in order.  Yeah, right.  She was on match.com before she even filed for divorced.  She may be a homebody, but she doesn’t want to be alone, like her mother.

So, x-MM/BF and I finished up our discussion with him saying that he wanted me to be supportive, to which I responded that I had been VERY supportive, but the pity party was more than I could take and I had reached my threshold of stupidity for the evening. 

Let’s call it what it is.  I’m not there to make you feel better about your divorce.  I’m the reason for it.  I’m not going to make you feel better about your ex-wife having a life.  Good.  I hope she does and leaves you alone.  (Of course, I’ve been wishing that my ex-H would get a life and leave me alone, take me out of his cross-hairs).  I have talked endlessly about what a good father, parent he is and marveled at this daughter wanting to do her party at his home.  I’m tired.  I’m exhausted.  I’m sick. 

I’m not your mother.  You have a mother.  She doesn’t acknowledge me. 

Trust.  Yeah.  Bullshit.

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“Why” is a crooked letter

October 26, 2010

You know how there are times when all you want to do is vent, scream at the top of your lungs, drink a bottle of wine, eat a pint of ice cream, sit in front of the TV but something inside you stops you from doing that.  And you do the responsible thing.  Get up, go to work, make dinner, do laundry, smile, exchange pleasantries.  And you feel like tearing your hair out.  Or ripping his face off.  But you don’t.

I have read a number of posts where the entries have talked about deleting MM’s old emails and how cathartic it was.  I have read them enviously.  I can’t do it.  I couldn’t block his phone and I can’t delete the old emails.  I like to re-read them.  Especially the ones that burn my butt.  I don’t know why.  I have most of our emails from all the pseudonym email addresses.  In the throws of the affair, I used to love to read them over.  The ones telling me how much he loves me, misses me, aches for me.  How I complete him, am his soul mate.  After d-day, and his bullshit no contact email, there were no emails for a while.  I called him towards the end of January to tell him how angry I was that he blocked me on facebook but refused to call him and refused to email him.  If he wanted to speak to me, he could call me.  If he wanted to email me, I would think about responding.   That ended our “no contact” but the pseudonym email addresses persisted.  I didn’t want to call him because I did not want to be portrayed as the crazy OW, and have some sort of restraining order against me.  That wasn’t me.  You don’t want to talk to me, I’m not calling.  That doesn’t mean I wont answer the phone. 

So today, I was looking through some emails.  My favorite is the “However comma I love my wife.”  But then, like a detective, I looked through some more.  The email from him, out of the blue, after we had talked that simply said “IMY”  (I miss you).  The date on that was February 13.  Was that before or after he went to down south with his W and kids to see his parents, while he was “trying to figure everything out” so “we shouldn’t talk that week.”  I found the emails where we talked about making plans to see each other.  Then a few intermittent emails, because he was sick.   Sunday night he writes to tell me that he got a lot of rest over the weekend, but now I know that he went to the Caribbean with his W for her birthday that weekend.  Must be why I got an email at 10:30 am and then not another one until 9:30 pm (when he got home.)   I was able to get angry all over again. 

I saw MM this weekend.  We were talking about funny names.  And he told me that when he was at a resort, he saw someone with a funny name tag.  When I asked him what resort, he said he didn’t want to tell me because I would get angry.  OH HOW RIGHT HE WAS!!!  I told him that I didn’t find anything funny about that time.  That I didn’t want him to raise that fucking weekend trip to me ever again.  That what was “funny” was that he has apologized to everyone but me and that I want a fucking apology.  That what I find “funny” is that he doesn’t ask about who I was dating, seeing, screwing, but that he should rest assured that I wasn’t sitting home, holding my blackberry waiting for it to buzz.  Because, “however comma” I was working on my future. 

Oh, I feel the blood boil, and the anger course through my veins.  Will it ever stop?  I told MM this past weekend, that I need to get it out of my system.  He treated me like I was disposable.  (In fact, I used those very words in an email to him.)  He wrote, in an email, that he was concerned that I shouldn’t hate him for the way he treated me during those months when he was “working on his marriage” and “going to marriage counseling” all the while telling his W that I am his soul mate but telling me that he is in MARRIAGE counseling!!!!  Why else does one go to marriage counseling except to work on their marriage.

Then I found the email where he told me that he told his W, and she agreed, that they should separate.  He was “physically” sick. 

I grew tired of looking at those emails and skipped to the ones that he has since sent me under his real name.  My favorite, as of late, is the 7 page email he sent to his W while in exile immediately after d-day.  I liked reading her email to him, attached to his string of apologies – telling her he loves her, wants her, needs her and their life and how after knowing each other for almost x-teen years he can’t imagine his life without her –  commanding him to write the email (which he obliged her with) and what it should say.  I liked how he referred to our love affair as a “stupid indiscretion” and something he would never do again.  How she yammered on about how he put his marriage at risk by getting involved with another woman, how he jeopardized her health and risked getting STDs, how she was hurt that he told me that he loved me “very much”.   What amazed me as I read (and of course, got angry) was that he never told her to go fuck herself.  He never told her the truth.  He never said to her “You’re right.  I was dishonest with you.  I should have left years ago, but I couldn’t.  Now I’ve met someone else, someone I love deeply, someone I believe is my soul mate.  I’m sorry I hurt YOU, however comma I’m leaving you.”  Why couldn’t he do that?  What was he thinking? 

Why?  Why?  Why?  Will I ever stop asking why?  Will I ever let it go?  Am I capable of letting it go?

When I was a little girl, and I would ask my parents “why”, they would oftentimes give me the non-answer:  “Y is a crooked letter.”  I never understood that it was a diversion, not an answer, never an answer.  Why is a crooked letter.

Truth or Dare

May 15, 2010

I’m obsessed with MM’s W’s profile on the internet dating site.  (Anotherother1 are you out there laughing your ass off?)  I know I shouldn’t be, but I can’t help myself.  I’m sure it’s not surprising that I created a pseudonym (of a man), in her town, with amazing (a/k/a unrealistic) attributes, so I can stalk the hell out of her on-line.  What is wrong with me??? 

MM was traveling for business this week.  He asked me to go, but I couldn’t.  Also, I didn’t relish the idea of being in a hotel room without a business reason of my own, waiting for him to come to me, have sex with me and then go to work.  I’m not that kind of woman.  He was upset that when he got home his W had taken his kids somewhere and she knew that he wanted to spend time with them.  Not that it would have mattered to her, because she had “plans.”  He was speculating to me that she was going on another date with the same guy she went out with on Mother’s Day, rather than being with her kids.  I asked him why he cared.  Wasn’t she simply proving him right?  He didn’t love her, hadn’t loved her, hadn’t been with her since October 2008, and what she was doing was proving to him that they weren’t even friends, that they didn’t have, hadn’t had a good relationship or friendship and that she was moving on.  She is going to tackle dating as if it were a job.  She’s attractive.  She’s smart.  She has a good job.  She’s exactly like my ex husband – she’s a narcissist.  I hope she moves on.  I hope she finds someone else.  I hope . . .

This is what I know of her first hand, second-hand and third hand.

His wife is a bully – just like my ex.  She’s a social climber – like my ex.  She’s concerned about outward appearances and what everyone else thinks and says – like my ex.  If only she knew.  I had no expectation about having any feelings, other than friendship for my MM.  I told him that what I did on the road when we were traveling for business together, was no one’s business, that I was getting divorced.  We had a huge fight in town because I was kissing some guy in a bar.  MM still brings that up.  He made “rules of the road.”  Mostly about me not taking off with someone else when we were together.  I had a big family party on 6/2/07.  He and his W came to my town for it.  She kept eyeing me.  She’s very attractive.  Tall, thin, long hair, attractive.  After my friends spoke to her, they thought she was unattractive.  Her personality came through and my friends found her unattractive.  Women tend to equate beauty or having a good figure with being thin.  It took me most of life to find that “thin” is just that, thin.  It’s not a figure at all.  And not very attractive.  Maybe because I’ll never be thin.  When I weighed 92 pounds, I was thin, but didn’t look it. I always had curves and never wanted them.  It was invariably a conversation with my dance teachers when my scholarship would be reviewed – that I didn’t have the kind of figure that looked good in a unitard and that I should think about cosmetic surgery alternatives.  I would look better in a tutu (which I did).  I’ve seen pictures of MM’s W recently on her dating profile.  She likes to post pictures of herself in a bikini.  She looks like a 17-year-old boy.  She loves herself.  She’s just like my ex.

I had a great conversation yesterday with a friend of mine, a guy, that I’ve known since 1995 and he said to me that it’s good my MM doesn’t live to close, that we can see each other on weekends, and when the day comes that we are actually able to spend a significant amount of time together, I’m going to dump him.  I was horrified.  He said to me – you don’t love this guy.  He’s not for you.  He’s never been the one for you.  It has always been about your ego.  I tried to tell him that perhaps it was the part of me that I kept hidden and protected for fear that MM would never leave his W so I refused to make myself vulnerable.  He was having none of my bullshit rationalization.  Hmmmm, I wonder if he’s right.  My other friends say the same.  They think that he’s weak.  My friends think that I can do better.  My friends don’t think that he’s my equal.  My friends think that I will destroy him.  It’s difficult to think about that, because they know me very well.

The other advice I get, is that I should be super kind, great, sexy, loving, nurturing, supportive so that he will love being with me, want to be with me and will get over the end of his shitty marriage faster and easier.  Fuck him.  I know I should, and believe me I try.  But – I sometimes feel that I only have so much tolerance for his crap right now.  It has always been a sore spot that he could call me but I couldn’t call him.  He used to say that I could always call him and if he couldn’t speak he would let me know.  So, I never called because (a) I didn’t want him to ‘ignore’ my call on his bb or (b) tell me he couldn’t speak to me.  I let him know that it was at those times he was not my friend.  I don’t have such restrictions with my friends – they will take my call whenever I make it.

I spoke to MM this morning.  And he was great –  I love you, I miss you, I can’t wait to see you next week, did you get the email I sent with the home listings so we can have “our own place.”  Oh yeah, by the way – you know I was traveling this past week (Monday until Friday morning), you know how we spoke every day (morning and night) and texted and emailed the whole time, you know how we practically fell asleep speaking to each other on Thursday night?  Yes, I said while we were talking this Saturday at noon.  Well, funny story, he says.  I was with one of my female colleagues and we were talking about medical marijuana on Thursday, and lo and behold, she had some, we got high.  Isn’t that ironic.  I meant to tell you.  Oh, I said.  OK.  I’ve to go now.  (We spoke Thursday night. Nothing.  We spoke Friday morning.  Nothing.  We spoke between his flights on Friday.  Nothing.  We spoke when he landed on Friday.  Nothing.  We spoke Saturday morning.  Nothing.)  This afternoon we were texting.  I was in my car and thought it would be easier to call, so I did.  He picked up the phone in a hushed voice, told me he was working, his daughter had a friend over and he had to go.  Then he made up some bullshit story about his daughter.  Obviously his W was home.  I told him fine, I’ll let you go and bye.  He then said he didn’t have to get off the phone immediately, he was just telling me what was going on.  He must think I’m an idiot.  I wanted to get off the phone so I did.  Fine.  He called me back a few minutes after that.  I wasn’t “happy” to hear from him.  And then he sent me a text message telling me that I should know that he can call me whenever I want.  Right now – I don’t want to talk to him.  I’m not answering the text, looking at the photo he sent.  None of it.

He called me again.  He told me that he can’t tell me that he loves me in front of his kids.  I said I understand.  But – bullshit.  There wasn’t anyone in the room with him when I called.  I’m not a moron.  Was your w around?  Were you afraid she was going to hear you?  Am I forever going to be that secret?  But all I said was that I understood.  I told him that he made me feel bad for calling.  That it wasn’t the first time today that he made me feel bad when we spoke.  It wasn’t retrospective, it wasn’t about the time when he treated me like shit in December, January, February, March &  April, but it was today, May 15, 2010.  He said that he knew and he apologized.  All I said was – you made me feel bad for calling.  You made me feel bad that you told me about getting high with you woman colleague 3 days after it happened despite the fact that we spoke numerous times, texted & emailed.  He told me that he tells me everything.  Yes, I know he does.  Lucky fucking me.

Truth?  I’m worried that he wont want to be with me when he’s free of his shitty marriage. 

Truth 2:  He’s afraid that I’m not going to be there for him when it’s all said and done. 

You know who has a better chance of realizing their truth? 

Him.

How can you mend a Broken Heart?

January 7, 2010

I woke up this morning thinking about all the things that I have to get done today – for work, life, home, etc.  I didn’t think about MM until almost 1/2 hour later!  What an accomplishment!  And then, crash.  I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him.  My favorite way is to cyber stalk him and his W.  I don’t know why I do that and hate myself for it.  I know everything I need to know.  He doesn’t want to have anything to do with me, now or ever again.  He has cut off all communication with me.  He chose her, not me.  Snap out of it!  Get over it!  Move on!  I was going to send him an email from a social networking site.  There was an email that he had sent me that I was going to “reply” to.  I saw his name in the “To” line; the subject line said “Hi” and I started to type.  “I cannot wrap my brain around the fact that you could simply cease all communication with me and not have the courtesy to tell me what’s going on.”  But I thought – the very act of not contacting me speaks volumes about what he’s thinking and what’s going on.  He doesn’t want to speak to me or he could have found a way.  He chose to return to his life without me.  Get over it!  So I deleted it.  I watched the blinking cursor on the blank screen and thought – fuck you.  FUCK YOU!  I hate you!  You blew it you dumb shit!  Why are you so stupid?  So damn weak?  I hate you!  Fuck you and what ever crap is now your life!  I hope you rot.  Ah, if only my pathetic little tale ended there this morning. 

I was cleaning out my blackberry and was looking at his contact information on the messenger part and waffling about deleting it when I accidentally sent him a “Ping,” the equivalent of a poke on facebook.  Stupid really.  It was un-recallable.  My face was burning with the shame of it.  UGH!  I followed up with another text: “I apologize for the Ping.  I was deleting the contact as you’ve implied you want me to.  I appreciate hearing from you and putting into context what I meant to you – personally & professionally these past 3 1/2 years — as a friend, lover, confidante, colleague, keeper of your private pain and secrets.  It has made this easier for me.”  Click and send.  I went to check to see if it was sent and my bb showed no current conversations!  It showed the contact as busy.  That’s it.  I’ve spent days thinking of his eulogy and look at how seamlessly he has moved on!  No contact, no phone calls, no emails, no nothing.  Not a peep.  WOW.  I didn’t realize that I was so disposable.  It was like being hit with a bucket of cold water.  It’s unfair.  It’s just not right.  Why does he get to walk away and I don’t.  Why am I the one still standing there, waiting to hear from him and he can turn his back on me?

I was “chatting” with a work colleague on-line last night and learned that MM, who was fired in November, applied for a job that I’m being recruited for.  I was stunned on many levels.  It meant that the job he was so sure of getting hadn’t come through  🙂 – does that make me evil to smile;  and that he was struggling to find work – :-), if you think I’m evil for smiling again, so be it; maybe I am.  We then spoke at length about MM’s qualifications, or lack thereof  :-), smiling again, for the job; what people in our business thought/think of him and what type of job he should/could get.  Interesting conversation.  I know intellectually that at this point, I need to separate myself from him – emotionally & professionally.  He and his W have taken care of everything else. (See horribly pathetic and weak tale above).   In order to explain the distance between us, I need to be very careful.  I don’t want to say anything bad that might come back to haunt me, but I certainly think that repeating uncomplimentary stories I’ve heard over the years, told to me by others, is, while not really nice, 🙂 is acceptable.  Especially when I prefaced it by saying: I would never tell him this because it would break his heart . . .

Speaking of broken hearts . . .

How can you mend a broken heart?  How can you stop the rain from falling down?  How can you stop the sun from shining?  What makes the world go round? How can you mend this broken (wo)man? How can a loser ever win?  Please help me mend, my broken heart and let me live again.  Thanks Bee Gees.

Will I stop crying or is that just ice water dripping down my face?

 

 

I’m your Venus, I’m your fire

December 31, 2009

I heard from my MM yesterday!  I got a text from him in response to a message I sent him on my blackberry messenger. 

I wrote: IMY. 

He replied: Me too.  I can’t talk.  I have hurt so many people, including you.  I’m sorry. 

I was shaking when I read his reply.  My heart was beating so hard that my chest cavity was shaking.  One of the things my MM and I would marvel at, was how connected we were with each other.  That we would be thinking about the other and an email would come in, the phone would ring; or our emails would cross in cyber-space saying almost the same thing.  I miss that connection.  I miss the emails, the phone calls.

I replied:  Why can’t you talk?  I wish you would talk to me.  I’ve tried to send you emails & to call, but to no avail.  I wish I could help you, could help myself, could stop crying.  I love you.

No response from him.

At midnight, I wrote: ILY

No response

I think that should be my last text.  My last email.  Will it be?  I’m not sure.  Sending emails to someone who doesn’t respond is pathetic.  Is that what I am?  I’m looking for a response from someone who, in his silence, is responding loudly that he doesn’t want to hear from me.  Why can’t I get that through my head?  I’m not a stupid person, yet I ask the same question over and over.  While I know the answer, I can’t wrap my head around it.  So often we ask – what did I do to cause this, what did I say, why, why why?!?!  I know the answers — I had an affair and fell in love with a married man.  That’s what I did. I didn’t fall out of love with him, nor do I believe that he fell out of love with me.  At least not yet.  Maybe he will tomorrow.  Maybe never.

My MM and I would send emails to each other when we were sitting across the table from each other – when we were alone, when we were with other people; when we were at meetings together, conferences, from the speaker’s podiums, when he was with his W and kids, when I was driving, when he was at some school activity, when I was at parent/teacher conferences.  We were never not connected from each other.  Here’s a really painful question — were we ever really connected?  I live in one place, he lives in another; I’m single, he’s married.  He’s married.  He’s connected to someone else.  Not me.   His life is with someone else.  Not me.  He doesn’t want to disconnect from her.  He wants to connect with me – in bed, in work, on the road.  But not in real life.  I never asked him for that connection.  I would be a liar to say that I didn’t fantasize about it.  I would be a liar to say that I didn’t like being second best.  I didn’t like not being his first choice.  But that’s not exactly the same as wanting to be the first choice. 

Sex between me and my MM was really good.  It wasn’t the most imaginative, but it was always fulfilling.  The best part about it was the connection.  The feeling that I couldn’t pull him in close enough.  That I wanted to swallow him, that I wanted him to completely engulf me.  The best quote I heard, that describes it best —

Sex is more than an act of pleasure; it’s the ability to be able to feel so close to a person, so connected, so comfortable that it’s almost breathtaking to the point you feel you can’t take it.  And at this moment you’re a part of them. 

The intimacy we shared was magnetic.  I don’t know why I felt that way about him.  I think that it was the way he looked at me, the way I looked through his eyes – beautiful, sexy, desireable, attractive, hot.  He looked at me with pure adoration, like I was a goddess.  How can you not love someone who looks at you like that.  How can you not want to be connected to someone who looks at you like that.  I never once thought if he looked at anyone else like that.  It never mattered.  I miss that look.  Will someone else ever look at me like that? 

To call or not to call

December 29, 2009

My MM’s W blocked my numbers – my cell, my home; my email(s), my texts. I have no way to communicate with my MM unless I either block my friend’s phone numbers or take my children’s cell phones and call or email him that way.  I could buy one of those pay as you go phones.  But then again so could he.  Doesn’t that sound desperate?  I went from emailing, texting, skyping, talking to him for more hours during the day than I could fairly afford to devote to the relationship to nothing.  Nothing.  No calls, no emails, no texts, no nothing.  Nothing.  Nada.  The silence is deafening.  I can’t hear anything except the hissing of the radiator.  My phone rings and I jump.  Not him.  My cell phone buzzes and I check.  Not him.  I just can’t digest this.

Some of the biggest fights that we would have over the years would be over lack of communication – the timeliness (or lack there of) of emails.  And almost always my failure to respond to him in a timely manner.  How controlling of him.  I should email him when I’m out, wherever, with whomever, while he’s with his wife, his family, his friends, with anyone other than me???  I remember going out to dinner with a mutual acquaintance – a young, handsome guy (married, of course),  that we knew from work.  He and I were having dinner at a local (to me) restaurant.  We ended up closing down the place – after cocktails, a couple of bottles of wine, after dinner drinks.  The maitre’d brought our coats to the table.  There was no one else in the restaurant but the 2 of us.  During the evening, I emailed my MM a number of times – a little tipsy, but just to let him know that I was thinking of him.  I don’t remember what time I got home or went to sleep (and nothing, not even a kiss) happened between me and this other man.  The next day was unbelievable.  My MM sent me emails during the night about how jealous he was, how he couldn’t sleep, how he dreamt that I was having sex with this other man, how sad he was.  All this while he slept in a bed with his wife.  The parade of insults was endless. Truthfully, I was separated from my husband, not living with anyone and invovled with a married man.  What difference would it be if I were with another married man, a single man, anyone?  It was none of his concern, and yet I spent hours calming him down, telling him it was nothing, nothing happened, was going to happen.  Where was he sleeping?  Where was he texting me from?  His bed that he shared with his wife!  What was I thinking?  Why did I care?  And the number one complaint was how long it took between emails to respond to him.  Hmmm, let me think – it’s been 22 days since he emailed me and 17 days since we talked.  I wonder – would he be angry at me if I waited that long to email him?

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnng.  Riiiiiiiiiiiiing.  I’m sorry the party will not accept your calls.  Oh yeah.  Fuck you.  Wrong number.