D-Day + 3 +730 days

733 Days

= 17592 Hours
= 1055520 Minutes
= 63331200 Seconds

 It has been 2 years and 3 days since my D-Day of December 9, 2009.  I remember every single second of it, like childbirth.  Where I was, what I was doing, the blood pounding in my head and throughout my body, and how time stood still.  It was like a slow motion movie, where life continued on around me, but I was frozen, in my own cocoon.  Part of the picture yet completely removed.  I remember coming across another blogger who had put a clock app on his iPhone (RBM 🙂 ) that showed how much time had elapsed since he had entered the realm of no-contact; and another blogger (AOW) who had a running calendar of days since d-day, no contact, last kiss, etc.  I felt that I was ‘healing’ when I could no longer remember those critical days and the amount of time that had elapsed.  After all, we say that time heals all wounds.  But does it?  Do you ever forget?  I remember asking another blogger (TVExplorer) if you ever really get over it and he simply replied that you think about it less and less.  Not really the answer I was looking for.  And who would have thought that 733 days after my d-day I would have the answer. 

This time of year depresses me.  I think it always had.  The forced joviality, happiness, togetherness.  The expectations put on making everything “just so” with family and friends.  Nothing ever lives up to those expectations or re-adjusted childhood memories.  Does Disney have a license on brainwashing?  I was one of the “lucky ones” that had d-day further ruin my December holiday time.  My xMM’s w called me on 12/9 to share with me her new found knowledge; xMM called me on 12/14 to tell me of his exile and then we silently slipped into no-contact.  Holiday parties, Christmas, xMM’s birthday – all came and went – with no-contact.  And that was 2 years ago. 

What I learned after the fact still hurts me and still makes me angry.  xMM wrote a confessional letter to his w about all of the horrible things he did (me) and how much he loved her, their life, how much he needed her, and would work tirelessly to restore her trust in him; how MM was the one who blocked me from his Facebook page, his cell phone, his home phone, his other social networking sites (but, he would whine, that he didn’t have a choice); how MM was berated over and over, but was “allowed” to return to the loving fold of his w on 12/26, his birthday; the marriage counseling, the trip to the Caribbean, staying in the hotel he and I always stayed in . . . The list seems to go on and on and on. 

Why can’t I let it go?  There are days when I’m fine and I don’t think about anything having to do with the past, and then . . .**THWACK** something reminds me (like Christmas) and the pain, anger and hurt are there again.

This will be our second “outed” December together.  Last year, xMM went to Florida with his kids, to his parents’ house.  I was only allowed to meet them for a quick bite the day before they left.  MM wanted everything to be “just right” and once again, took all of the advice as to how to make that happen from others.  This year, we’re going to spend Christmas and his birthday together – all of us – kids included – at his house.

We had talked about “the tree” this year.  One of the symbols of his married life that haunted me and over which I would obsess.  Did they buy the tree, did they decorate the tree, was it a perfect little family time fit for a Hallmark card all the while he would text me, call me, email me.  This year his children were hurt that their mother (now the x-W) bought a tree without them, but with her new BF.  I spoke to my BF/xMM and offerred to join them for the tree buying, decorating escapade and xMM didn’t say anything to me until this past Friday, that they were going tree shopping on Sunday, which they did.  Needless to say, I was hurt.  I don’t want to speak to him.  So I haven’t.  The fucking tree.  Now I’m going to hate the fucking tree because I’m so good at transferrance.

So 2 years, 0 months and 3 days after D-day, the answer is . . . drumroll, please . . .

Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?

Life goes on.  We read.  We write.  We’re happy.  We hurt.  And yet, we’re lucky enough to wake up in the morning – no matter the emotional condition.  We agonize over that.  We ache for what could have, should have been, but isn’t or isn’t what we thought, what we wanted, what we imagined.  Be careful what you wish you for.  I no longer have enough fingers to count the number of times I’ve thought it, said it and felt it.

I started this post a month ago, and as I’ve re-read the following, it is relevant today too, so I’ll keep it and add from there.

——————–

So here I am.  3/17/2011.  A year ago today, MM was with his (ex) wife, back from a weekend in Mexico, celebrating her 40th birthday because the spa certificate wasn’t good enough for her and she had posted pictures of her “awesome 40th” on Facebook extolling the great time they had; MM sent me emails during the weekend talking about how much sleep he was getting as he hadn’t been feeling well during the week (liar); MM and I had plans to get together unbeknownst to anyone but us — the first time since 12/4/09 on 3/18/10.  And let’s not forget that he couldn’t see me or speak with me, publicly that is, while he was “working through things.”  It still burns me to think about that.  At what point will I be able to let it go?  Will I ever be able to let it go?  I don’t know the answer to that.

So, a year ago tomorrow, MM and I were meeting at a diner halfway between where he lives and where I live.  He wasn’t wearing his wedding band for the first time ever with me (ah, the fucking ring 😉 ) and despite all the water under the bridge, it felt like no time had passed.  I burned with anger, with passion, with resolve.  I wanted to slap him, kiss him, kill him, make love to him.  The day after our meeting, he told his wife that he wanted to separate.  She agreed.  He felt guilty.  I can relive every second, every feeling, every thought as if it were yesterday.  Yet it a year ago.

Tomorrow, MM/BF is coming to my town and bringing his kids, for the weekend.  Quite the dichotomy.  I was speaking to MM/BF’s son this evening and he asked me when I was going to be his step mother.  He told me that he would like that very much.  He thinks that I’m nice.  That was sweet.  I told him that I think he’s nice too.  I can’t answer his question.

————————-

MM/BF has been having panic attacks lately.  About money, life, stress, work, etc.  Bad enough that when he was here, the attack was so bad that we went to the emergency room of a local hospital.  Nothing like sitting in a psych ward on a Sunday.  He walked out with a couple of prescriptions and with a warning to see his doctor. 

Yes, the stress of the past year has gotten to him.  In fact, the stress of the past 45 years has finally caught up with him.  No big surprise.  I confess that I find it difficult to garner sympathy for someone having a panic attack.  Why can’t you just “psych yourself out of it?”  I know that’s not possible, but I wonder about it none the less.

The stress:  about getting fired, getting caught, getting hired, getting fired, getting divorced.  Boo hoo.  I’ve been under a lot of stress too and haven’t had panic attacks.  Why not?  Where do they come from?  Why can’t he control them?  Why do I always have to be the strong one?  Why do I have to take care of everything?

MM/BF came to my town, with his kids, for most of their spring break.  I got to see first hand, for an extended period of time, how he deals with life.  Quite interesting to say the least.  I was the one that disciplined his kids; I was the one that made the daily decisions – what to do, where to go, what to eat, when to bathe, etc., etc.  As for his kids – MM/BF and I had a long, painful conversation.  What I said to him was – you moved out in December 2010, your kids did not become this way in 4 months.  You had 11 years in the same house with them and your now ex-w.  Where were you as a father?  Where were you as a parent?  What were you doing?  What were you thinking about?  It wasn’t a good conversation.  He cried.  I didn’t comfort him.  We all live with the choices and decisions we make.  Luckily with children, every day is a chance to change and make a difference.  Why didn’t it bother him that he didn’t have a co-parent or a partner to help him parent?  Why did he completely abdicate control?  If your wife was spanking the kids and you didn’t approve, why did you allow it to happen, no matter how often or infrequently?  Why didn’t you stop her?  Why did you just shrug your shoulders and look the other way?  Parenting is hard work and while rewarding, isn’t always fun.  You don’t get to be “uncle daddy” and think that everything is going to be okay.

I sat his kids down, with my younger kid as there was some fighting going on.  We had a “talk it out” that I conducted in a fairly strict or rigid way – giving everyone a chance to speak, to not speak over the other person and for all of us to come up with a solution.  It was successful. 

MM/BF told his shrink that he had spent his adult life and his parenting life married to someone who was not an adult, someone who could never have controlled the situation and done what I had done.  Enough bashing of the ex-w.  What I want to know is — where was he?  What was he doing? 

I don’t want to be a parent to his kids.  It’s exhausting enough parenting my own as a single mother.  It’s hard enough stressing out about work (or lack thereof), my ex’s bad behavior, unemployment without worrying about him.  I’m tired.

MM/BF and I are in the same niche industry.  He recently applied for a job that I would have liked to apply for.  I gratuitously told him to go ahead, even though he has a job and I don’t.  Without thinking about how this would really effect me, he went ahead and applied.  I have vacillated about submitting my own application.  I spoke to him about it and he told me to apply and that he didn’t mind.  I don’t see a good outcome out of that application.  In fact, the only positive outcome I see is for him not to get the job.  If we both applied and I got it, he would resent me; if he got, I would resent him.  If I don’t apply and he gets it, I will forever wonder – what if.  It’s not a good position to be in.  I’m losing sleep over it.  What if? 

Would have, should have, could have. 

Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?

What’s Worth Fighting For?

MM has an interim separation agreement and is working on the first draft of his final divorce agreement.  He had conciliation (like mediation) and court last week and he and his soon-to-be-ex-wife reached an agreement.  I can’t believe it.  A little more than a  year ago, (376 days ago, but who’s counting) as I’ve been blogging, was d-day; 12/14/09 was the last day we spoke until January 21, 2010.  I can’t believe what has transpired in a year.  I can’t believe when I think of that time, it STILL takes my breath away and I can’t breathe.  I still can’t believe the hurt and yet, MM had conciliation on Monday, December 13 and then drove 4 hours to come to see me.  We were together on 12/14 and I thought about where we were last year . . . but I said nothing.

We’ve been talking about Christmas and New Year’s eve.  He has agreed with his w that she would have the kids for Thanksgiving and he would have them for Christmas – starting Christmas eve through the end of the week.  He has asked me to bring my kids to his state for the Christmas.  I’ve waffled about it especially because my kids are tepid to cold on the idea.  He called me Wednesday, after his shrink appointment, to tell me that his therapist thinks it’s not a good idea.  There is certainly a part of me that agrees but I was angry.  We talked about it and I got angrier.  We decided to wait until we were together this past weekend to discuss it further.  He had mentioned, as I previously blogged, that he was considering going to his parents in Florida for either Christmas or New Year’s which engendered some bad feelings from me.  I tried, unsuccessfully to keep them at bay.  The reason:  historically MM, his W and kids would go to Florida from the day after Christmas (which happens to be his birthday) until New Year’s day.  Since 2007 we have emailed, texted, spoke while he was there and I was in my hometown.  Last year, he was “exiled” to Florida – without w or kids for 2 or 3 weeks (we still haven’t talked about what happened, and not sure when/if we will) and yet, he couldn’t/didn’t speak, email or text me while he was there.  I emailed him; I texted him.  My phone was blocked; my emails were blocked.  I want to vomit when I think about that time and how I felt. 

Finally, we are able to be together on his birthday and on New Year’s and he’s talking to me about FLORIDA!!!!!!  He’s telling me that he agrees with his therapist and Christmas isn’t good so he’s going to Florida!!!!  No discussion about his birthday, no discussion about meeting his kids, no discussion about how we’re going to do that.  Oh yeah – he thinks that sometime in January he’s going to bring his kids to my home and stay for the weekend.  That’s how he is going to introduce us.  ARE YOU KIDDING?!?!?!  I wanted to slap him.  I wanted to use his head for baseball practice.  I wanted him to leave; to walk away from me; to never see him again.  And for some reason, my brain lacked a filter and I told him that.  I am angry and hurt.  My kids know him.  He stays in my apartment, he’s vacationed with us, he spent Thanksgiving with us and his kids know what about me?  Nothing.  Zero.  Zip.  Nada.  He said that his therapist said that the kids would feel badly if they saw that he had a relationship with my kids.  I cut him off and told him that he has no relationship with my kids – they know him, they tolerate his presence, they can co-exist but he doesn’t have a “relationship” with either one of them.  It wasn’t nice of me to say, but it is true.  It was also mean and hurtful for me to say it.  He said to me later, in a quiet voice, that he would like to have a relationship with my kids and would I help him develop one.  It broke my heart.  I felt that I had won, but at the price of being vicious and cruel.  Sometimes I don’t know when to stop myself. 

He told me that we only get one chance to make a good impression with his kids and he wants to do it the right way.  I told him, that no matter what he hopes, I have no illusion that between his soon-to-be-ex-wife and her mother, that the kids will not want to be around me, will not respect me and will forever think of me as the reason why their parents got divorced.  I’m the whore, the bad guy, the reason.  I also told him that his reluctance to introduce me or talk to his kids about me, makes me wonder whether he and I are going to have a relationship down the road.  The biggest reason not to introduce someone to your kids (and believe me I researched this up the ying yang) is that they might not be there in 6 months.  Where the hell am I going?  If I stuck around this long, where am I going to be in 6 months or a year from now?  My best friend asked me today if I thought that I was going to marry MM, that there is no doubt in her mind that he wants to marry me, be with me forever, but I have never said the same about him.  Why is that?  Am I scared to do it or do I think that “marriage” and “forever” are best left for fairy tales?  Meeting his kids puts me in the “forever” category.  I get that.  It’s not that I’ve wanted to meet them as much as I’ve wanted MM to ASK me to meet them, to beg me to meet them, to set up a meeting without me nagging.  It’s not the same when you have to ask. 

I know that things haven’t been ideal and now we are here – the holiday season – again.  What I want is to get rid of the bad memories that are plaguing me this time of year.  So many have blogged about the holidays – when you are the “other” you don’t get that time.  Now I’m not the “other,” I’m actually the partner and I still feel like the “other.”  While I don’t think that this is a good time to meet his kids, I want to have been asked.  I wanted him to want me to meet them.  I’m angry or sad that whether he did or didn’t, he said nothing until I pushed him.

I spoke to MM tonight.  He has his kids.  They’re both sick.  His soon-t0-be-ex-wife has enrolled them in an after school program for 2 days a week at an exorbitant cost of over $1000/month.  Now they’re sick.  MM picked them up this afternoon and brought them to his house.  He was whining that the kids are “home sick” and the home is going to be sold in less than a month.  His daughter complained that the tree wasn’t big enough and not as big as the one that “mom got.”  The ornaments are the old ones, and mom got new ones.  So MM is sad. Depressed.  And lucky me, he shares it.  That’s a bit tongue in cheek – I’m glad he shares it but angry that he thinks I can be sympathetic all the time.  It taps me out.  It’s taking its toll on me.  I can’t listen to it all the time.  I don’t want to hear it anymore.  I’m tired.  The fight that we always have is that he sees the glass as half empty and I see it as half full.  You chose how you live your life.  You can choose to be happy or to be sad.  He seems to make a choice that sucks the life out of me.  I’m tired.  Tired of always being on the receiving end of his questioning, his gloom, his sadness.  I want him to call me and say, while today was hard, it was worthwhile; that he’s excited about the future, as difficult as it’s going to be.  As Dr. Kelso (“Scrubs”) said: Nothing worth having is easy.  And as Andrew Carnegie is accredited with saying: Anything in life worth having, is worth working for. 

Where do I fit in?

D-Day + 1

D-day + 1. 

366 days later.

365 days ago:

MM went to Florida to “stay” with his parents to think about his bad behavior and how he would feel if he were divorced.  He was punished.  His w punished him when she found out about us.  She punished me when she found out about us. 

I spoke with MM the day after d-day – what should he do, what should he say, what he was telling w about me, about us, about our relationship. 

I told him not to go to Florida.  He went. 

I told him to speak to a lawyer so he would have a realistic idea of what “being divorced” was all about it.  He went to Florida and didn’t call a lawyer. 

He told me the lies he was telling his W about our relationship and asked me, that should she call me again, to corroborate them.  He went to Florida, he didn’t call a lawyer and she didn’t call me again. 

He called me 4 days later and then he didn’t call me again.

He went to Florida, he didn’t call a lawyer; he asked me to lie for him; he disconnected me on Facebook, business networks; he blocked my cell phone & telephone numbers, my ip address from his computer. 

He asked me to be patient.  He told me he missed me. 

He came home; took his w to his company’s holiday party and stayed in the hotel we always stayed at; took his family to Florida in February and fucked his wife for the first time ever; and called me and texted me and told me that he loves me, misses me, needs me. 

He went to marriage counseling; he told me he was trying to reconcile/to fix things at home, to fix things with everyone – but me.

He & his w sent me an email telling me that “I’m sorry I hurt you.  However comma I love my wife and my family.”

He made plans to be with me then took his wife to the Caribbean for her birthday 3 days before our meeting. 

He didn’t want to hurt anyone.  He hurt me.

366 days after d-day and MM is getting divorced. 

366 days after d-day MM went to the police to file a complaint against his w for menacing and threatening to hurt him.

366 days after d-day, MM’s w has herpes.

366 days after d-day MM has a new home that he calls “ours.”

366 days after d-day MM and I have spent my birthday together, Thanksgiving together and have planned to spend Christmas and New Year’s together.

366 days after d-day, MM isn’t wearing a wedding band.

366 days after d-day I feel that there are some issues that we still need to address; that there are still questions and unresolved hurt; that I’m still owed some apologies.

366 days after d-day is completely different than I thought it was going to be the day after d-day.

D-Day Revisted or The more things change . . .

On December 9, 2009 at 7:06 pm I received the following text: 

“Hi — I know about you and my husband. – Wife”

It feels like yesterday and it has been a year.  A long, miserable, shitty year.  I have gone back,  on the eve of my anniversary to re-read, from the beginning, some of my posts.  The pain was excruciating.  I remember it like it was yesterday and yet it was 364 days ago.  The anger, the hurt, the betrayal, the feeling like a fool, the feeling of being betrayed and not chosen.  After 364 days, our outward labels have changed, but sometimes I feel as if that’s all that has changed. 

Where we were and where we are:

1.  MM & w living “happily ever after” in their lovely 3000 sq. ft. home with in ground pool, mother-in-law, 2 children, dog and all the while MM was 3 years into a love affair – emotionally and physically.

Today:  MM has rented a house.  I helped him settle in this past weekend.  He’s not moving in yet, because his stupid wife filed a motion for temporary support and a visitation schedule while they are still living under the same roof.  The advice he got from everyone (including me) was to stay put until after they have their conciliation/mediation meeting and until after the date for the motion is heard.  There will be nothing to decide at that time.  She’s stupid.

2.  MM’s w was obsessed with the details of our relationship – how often we made love/fucked/had sex; did he wear a condom; how selfish he was to have strayed outside his marriage and put his darling wife at risk for STDs.  So, she got tested for STDs.  The tests of course came back clean.

Today:  MM told me that when his w was at work, he wanted to clear out the remainder of his things from the master bedroom/bathroom and found a prescription that his W had for Valtrax.  I didn’t know what it was and he briefly explained and I looked it up on the internet, that it is for genital herpes.  Uproariously funny!  She has herpes.  Oh, life is rich.  I have a friend who says “the world is round”.  I love that.  Of course, I said to MM, should I go and get tested for STDs.  It was a bit tongue in cheek, but it was a stab at the fact that he was fucking his w in February.

3.  I hadn’t met his kids or the rest of his family

Today:  I still haven’t met his kids.  I still haven’t met the rest of his family.

4.  We didn’t spend the holidays or other important events together.

Today:  MM spent Thanksgiving with me, my kids, my parents.  It was an agreement that he made with his W – she would have them for Thanksgiving this year and he would have them for Christmas – from 12/24 at 10:00 pm through the week.  He invited me and my kids to spend Christmas with him and the following day is his birthday.  We haven’t spent the holiday/birthday together.  I put off seeing a friend from California so that we could be together for Christmas and New Year’s – not the entire week but days/nights during the last 10 days of the year.  MM told me this weekend that he may take his kids to Florida to see his parents during part of that time and then yesterday he asked what would I prefer – Christmas OR New Year’s?  I thought my head was going to explode!  I blew off a friend of mine so that we could be together and he was blowing me off!  I could not have been angrier with myself. 

And then it got better.  How, you must be wondering, could it get any better.  MM told me that w suggested they have Christmas morning together – so that the kids could “come down the stairs” and they could open their presents together – like one-big-happy-family.  While I don’t think that’s a good idea for a million different reasons, he told me that it’s not about him and w but about the kids and Christmas and that if that would make them happy, then he didn’t care if is W was leaving 5 minutes later to “fuck her boyfriend,” he would do this for his kids.  OF course, he was supposed to have his kids, in his new home for Christmas morning.  He had invited me and my kids to join them.  Like a fool, I already mentioned this to my kids.

Then:  Second best. 

Today:  Second best.

Then:  Stupid and self-delusional

Today:  Stupid and self-delusional

Funny how the more things change the more they stay the same.

Live from New York . . . it’s Saturday Night

My life revolves around music.  It swirls around in my head all the time.  I’ve started listening to my ipod when I walk the dog and it makes those miserable evening walks enjoyable as I bop down the street.  Most people relate music to events and other people in their lives.  I wrote earlier that I know the impact my musical taste has had on my MM – he can’t listen to certain artists without thinking of me.  And I know it.  And I love knowing that.  I love knowing that when I listen to them, I have a million other thoughts swirling around in my head or I just simply feel good when I listen. 

Tonight I’m singing:
Another Saturday night and I aint got nobody. 

Why?  Why do I still have not have a man in my life that I can tolerate for more than a single evening?  The answer is pretty obvious.  Because as much as I think that I’m over my MM, or am trying to be over my MM or wish it to be, wishing doesn’t make it so.  I’m emotionally unavailable.  Not to mention, the only other men in my life right now are married too.  Hellooooooo out there . . . . . .  is there anyone single, kind and sane out there???  Will you call me???  Will you answer my call????

So, I’ve been fantasizing about what life would be like with my MM.  He’s asked me to rent an apartment with him.  What is he thinking??  He’s getting into bed every night with his wife.  Not me.  He’s still not:  talking to me, calling me, seeing me, friending me.  Do I have a sign on my forehead that says: “Idiot”?  Yeah, I think I do.  And worse than that, and more embarrassing is that I have thought about it.  I have thought about spending weekends together, seeing each other during the week, when possible; living together during he summer when my kids are away for 7 weeks at camp; planning vacations together, meeting his friends, introducing him to mine.  I’m pathetic.

I’ve also fantasized about blocking him – his phone number, his email and anything else I can think of.  But the glimmer of hope that I have that he will pick me would be forever extinguished.  Tonight, I’m angriest at myself for that faint glimmer of hope.  He’s never going to pick me.  And why does he get to pick?  Fuck him.  Yeah, MM, fuck you!  I’m the best thing that ever happened to you and you didn’t choose me.  So – maybe I’m not the best thing that ever happened to you; maybe I’m the worst.  Maybe I woke up a sleeping dragon or poked a hornet’s nest – and in the end, I’m the one who’s going to get burned or stung.  What do I do now?

Do I wait for him?  Do I move on?  Will he leave?  Will he stay?  I’m sad.  I’m lonely.  I miss him.  I miss what we had.  I miss what I fantasized about when I was with him.  I miss the way I felt when I was with him.  I miss my friend.  I miss my lover.  I have this big, gaping hole in my life and I don’t know how to fill it.  I don’t know what to fill it with.  The thing that a hearken back to is that I was ready to move on when the shit hit the fan and we were outed.  Why is it so hard to move on now?  What is that all about???  Why can’t I do it now?

I think that I’ve spent more time focusing on him than on me.  What does he want, what is he going to do when I should be thinking about what I want, what am I going to do.  What do I want?  Where do I want to be?  Who do I want to be with?

I’ve got a million questions, again, and no answers.  Does anyone have any answers?  Can anyone hear me?  When does the pain stop?  When does the longing stop?  When will I be strong enough to extinguish the flickering flame.  It’s drowning in it’s own wax.  As am I.

Help, I need somebody. Help, not just anybody

I think that blogging has been incredibly therapeutic.  I haven’t told my shrink though.  I’ve told her that I’ve been journaling.  And I haven’t told MM either.  I tell him that I journal and find that sometimes when I’m writing, things become clearer once I see them on paper.  Actually, often times it is the comments that make things clearer.  Or are like a cyber smack in the head.  🙂

MM and I have been emailing and talking.  I feel dirty and ashamed of that fact.  Yet what I keep telling him is to let me go.  Leave me alone.  I understand that he is unhappy and that I opened up his eyes.  But I’m not going to hold his hand and help him walk across the lion’s den right now.  He has to figure out what he wants in his life, where he wants to be in his life and what’s important in his life — without regard to me.  No matter what happens between me and him – whether we never see each other again, become friends, lovers or more, I don’t want him to look at me, think of me with resentment.  And I don’t want to have those feelings for him.  To be honest, I would be happy with any feeling other than anger at this point.  But resentment would be toxic.  No matter what.

So the conversations that we’ve had have been okay for me.  The one thing I’ve repeatedly asked is what is it exactly, that he’s trying to work out.  Does he want to save his marriage, because frankly, his marriage is dead.  Deader than dead.  Dead.  Deader.  Deadest.  Yup.  Deadest.  I guess he could stay where he is, in his wife’s bed, in his jointly mortgaged home, with his jointly leased cars and joint bank accounts until the children are . . . teenagers, out of high school, graduating from college, married, have children . . . And then what happens?  What happens during?  None of it is really my problem.  And yet I seem to think that I should have some concern, some investment in the outcome.  How foolish of me.  It’s not my life.  I’m divorced after almost 19 years of marriage; I’m a single mother with 2 kids.  I’m a full time worker.  I made the decisions that were right for me, my kids, my life.  MM has to make the decisions that are right for him.  Please, I’ve begged of him, let me go.  Stop calling me.  Stop emailing me.  Stop telling me that you’re sorry.  Stop telling me you miss you.  Stop telling me that you love me.  Stop asking me what I want.  Stop.  Stop.  STOP!!!

I told MM that was I was going to block his phone number.  But I haven’t done it.  I told him I was going to block his email.  I haven’t done that either.  He asked me not to.  So like a fool, I didn’t.  What the hell is wrong with me that I can’t do it.  My girlfriend referred to him today as my fix.  Yes, I know that.  I understand that, and yet, time and time again I forget.  As if I could.

I would like to meet someone.  I had a date scheduled for tonight.  I broke it.  The guy just annoys me.  I’m sure that he’s nice, but I don’t want to go out with him.  I don’t want to date him.  I saw his picture and there’s not enough alcohol in the world to make this guy more appealing.  I would rather put on a movie, pour a glass of wine and go to sleep.  Sounds like heaven.  I would like to turn my brain off for a few hours – not think about work, money, bills, kids’ school work, MM or the fact that I’m alone.  I’m not lonely.  I’m just alone.  The thing that I think of most, is that right now, I don’t mind being alone.  Given a choice of going out on a date tonight and making small talk with someone I could care less about, watching a movie with a girlfriend or spending the evening in a quiet home (without my kids), by myself – I picked door number 3.  How much time do I have to do that?  Should I really be thinking that MM is the guy for me because otherwise I could end up alone?  I spent the relationship with MM being alone anyway.  So, what’s the difference.  I felt there was a period of time that I could have been content, in my affair, for years to come.  I never asked him to leave his wife for me; I like having my freedom and being only accountable to me and my children.  Meeting someone local, to spend weekends, holidays, birthdays with, would be nice and I didn’t see that as an impediment to my affair.  MM never liked me to talk about other men, dating, being physical with someone else.  In fact, he used to ask me if I told people that I had a boyfriend, that I was in love with someone.  Are you fucking kidding me??!?!?!  Did he tell his wife that he had a girlfriend and was in love with someone else?  We all know the answer to that question.  And since he was so weird about it, I felt that it was best not to talk about it.  Where I went when I wasn’t with him, wasn’t his business.  Who I was with, when I wasn’t with him, wasn’t his business.  He was with his wife.  And that wasn’t any of my business.

I would like to meet someone someday.  I would like to be with someone someday.  Someone who loves me, respects me, wants me – mind and in body.  I would like to be with someone someday that I think is smarter than me, funny, who I respect and who I dig – both in spirit and in body.  I chewed on thinking that was MM.  But the “married” part got in the way.  Fantasy is great until you put a pin in your bubble and burst it.  How much of what I felt was fantasy and how much reality.  How much of what he felt was fantasy and how much reality.  I don’t know the answer to either question.  What I do know, without a doubt, without hesitation, is that what we had is over.  It is no more.  It can never be that again.  It would have to be different.  How do you do that.  Do I want to do that.  Is this the person do I want to do that with.  Funny how I ask these questions as if the answer were mine, when it’s not.

Just keep walkin’.

The Odd Couple

I had an epiphany today.  While I know that MM “needs to work on repairing the severe damage that he has done to his family” and has completely shut me out, I have assumed that everything at home, while a little strained, is relatively normal – they are sitting around their family dining room table, making small talk about their days; retiring to the family room to watch some TV after homework is done, and then, when the kids are quietly and happily tucked into bed, slipping into bed next to his wife, holding her, kissing her and maybe even making love.  Are there any MM reading this?  Any wives of MM reading this?  If so, I would love to hear whether this scenario, as it plays in mind is anywhere near accurate. 

Just to recap – W found out about us 12/9; he went to stay with his parents for a couple of weeks (a/k/a she kicked him out); the last time we spoke was 12/14; the last time he texted me was 12/28 and the last email (“However comma”) was the one I forced (and most likely dictated) on 1/12.  The last time I saw him was 12/4 – 41 days ago – we made love in the morning, had brunch and then he was off to the airport to fly home.  Are they sleeping in the same bed?  If I were W, would I let him sleep in my bed?  In my guest room?  On my couch?  Under my roof?  In a hotel?  In a coffin?  I’ve been re-thinking my scenario and actually feeling sorry for MM.  Don’t get me wrong.  I still want to carve my initials in his face, but am starting to think that his life isn’t so good.  In a concrete “not so good” way.

On 12/4, as we were sitting across the table from each other, I looked at MM and told him that it was time for me to start to move on, to date, to get my life in order.  My divorce is final, I’m not getting any younger (I’m 45), I’ve given 3 years to this relationship and it’s certainly dead-end.  MM had a thing against me dating .  He used to say that I knew he was married when we started our “relationship” but if I were to date, it would mean that I was looking for something/someone else, and we were supposed to be in love. He wouldn’t sleep with me, if I were sleeping with someone else.  What a hypocrite!  Really?  I shouldn’t sleep with anyone and you’re fucking your wife?  No, he would say.  I’m more married to you in that way, than to her.  The last time we had sex was October 2008.  You know the word “gullible” isn’t in the dictionary either.  But that was OK, because it was his W, and I was . . . nothing.  Really what I was, was a whore.  Good enough to fuck, but not to sleep with, or be seen with holding hands or kissing in public.  Hypocrite.  If I went out on a date (which I did, and certainly more often than I would tell him), he would ask me if I told the guy that I was in love with someone else; did I tell my friends who wanted to fix me up, that I had a boyfriend?  That I was in love?  Are you drunk?  Why would I say that to anyone, ever?!?  You’re MARRIED!  And not to me.  No.  I very much wanted to meet someone, be swept up in a romance.  But that didn’t happen.  Because, as the affair continued, I found that I was emotionally unavailable to meet someone else.  I spent too much time comparing them to MM – were they as smart, as funny, as interesting, well read; did they look at me like I was the most extraordinary woman in the world?  Often, they would fall short and in truth, there wasn’t enough alcohol in the world for most of them to even get a good night kiss.

So we’re having this conversation and MM asks me to be patient.  For what?  There is no answer.  There was never an answer.  The books I’ve read about whether a MM will leave his W for his OW say, categorically, that if he doesn’t leave within the first 6 months, he’s not going to leave.  And if he did, would you really want to be involved with someone who is a cheater and a liar?  If he did it to her, what makes you think that he wouldn’t do it to you?  It was a really sad, melancholy conversation.  He told me that he was going to have a lot to think about and decide.  I just smiled.  Decide what?  He asked me whether he should move out?  Get an apartment near his home?  Move to be with me?  I just smiled and told him that I could not make decisions for him.  I could only make decisions for me.  He asked if we would still be able to be friends.  And I said that I wasn’t sure – whether I wanted that or whether he would want that and whether we could really go from the intimacy that we had to something less. 

It was a bittersweet conversation.  One that I had started to play in my head about a month earlier.  The substance of the conversation had been rehearsed a million times in my head.  I said that I wasn’t doing anything now, but that I thought I would.  We kissed, many times, held hands, and told each other that we love each other many times.  We spoke and emailed over the weekend many times. 

On Monday, MM called and was trying to convince me to meet him, the following week halfway between where we lived and spend the day and night together – he was able to work around a holiday party, which is what he was going to tell his W.  The following day he sent me a link to a Romance package that a really beautiful hotel in my neighborhood was having.  He wanted to see me before his family trip to see his parents – after Christmas and his birthday (neither of which we would spend together), because he didn’t want to have to wait more than a 5 days, a week at most, without seeing me.  I wasn’t really sure about what I wanted to do.  I knew that I didn’t want to be alone, but I knew that the time to end this affair was coming.  I thought about how long I could live like this – could I have an affair with a married man for 5 years?  10 years?  20 years?  Could I fall in love with someone else and still make love to my MM?  Possible?  Probable?  I thought about it.  Not really liking the way it tasted.

My girlfriend told me today, that MM committed emotional suicide.  I broke up with him and he couldn’t pull the trigger on anyone but himself.  I assumed (there’s that word again), that the affair would come to a gradual end, like pulling up to a red light.  How wrong I was.  I should have known – when you assume, you make an ass out of you and me.

Holidays, Birthdays and other Unimportant events

There are so many things about being the OW that are unacceptable, it makes me wonder how I could have done it and done it for so long.  How many other men and women do it and do it for a period of time that is longer than they ever thought they would.  Birthdays, holidays, festivities that a person shares with a partner, a lover, a significant other are often celebrated alone or on days other than the actual day. 

Valentine’s day has never been a big deal to me.  The year before I got married, my ex-husband put so much thought into the gift he gave me that I was bound to be disappointed the next year.  Which, in the long run was easy – since he then gave me nothing.  I can’t remember his excuse, since he had so many, but I learned quickly the importance of Hallmark holidays versus other celebrations. 

I grew up in a house where every event was a big deal; where giving a gift was a thought filled process and receiving it with great gusto was part of the joy one gave back to the giver.  My marriage changed what I expected from an adult male in my life.  It was quite simply, nothing.  My MM felt differently.  Although gift giving wasn’t something we ever discussed, whatever he gave me was filled with thought.  Thought he put into whether I would like it, whether it was something that had a meaning to me, to him, to us.  It could be something as small as a crossword puzzle, a candy bar, or a magazine subscription to something as lavish as a massage, or a  beautiful dinner. 

This past year, for Valentine’s Day, he bought me a dozen long-stemmed red roses.  They were delivered to my office a few days before Valentine’s day with a card that wished me a happy Valentine’s Day, that he couldn’t wait to celebrate it with me and that he loved me very much.  Of course our celebration was going to have to be a day other than Valentine’s day since it fell on a Saturday and he wouldn’t be with me that day.  I remember the excitement of receiving the flowers, bringing them to my office; lying to my co-workers about who they were from; bringing them home and lying to my children about who they were from.  I feel awful just acknowledging that.  I wanted to tell everyone who they were from and yet, I didn’t want anyone to know.  They were beautiful.  They were an ugly reminder that I was nothing and no one to this man.  I was easily and cheaply bought.  My affections, my loyalties for a dozen roses.  Since when did I place such a small value on myself?  When did that happen?  I guess I had spent so many years in such a shitty marriage, that any sort of kindness was extraordinary.  I was flattered and touched to be the recipient of such generosity.  What the hell was I thinking???  That wasn’t generosity, that was hush money.  When my first child was born, I read somewhere that to child, the way you spell “love” is “t. i. m. e”.  Giving of your time is the greatest act of love you can show another person.  And that was the one thing my MM wasn’t giving me.  I brought the flowers home and they died.  I let them sit in the vase and putrefy.  You know that horrible rotten egg smell of water that has been sitting around for too long with flower stems.  Was that what I was worth?  Now I think that I sold my soul for a dozen roses.

So the holidays are once again here.  And once again, I’m not with my MM.  I can’t say that I’m alone because I’m surrounded by friends and family and for that I’m truly and honestly blessed.  Just like my MM.  My ex-MM.  But he didn’t pick me and I still can’t get past that.  He unceremoniously stopped talking to me, spending time with me.  Does the lack of time equate to the lack of love?  I hope that one day I will stop asking these questions and stop looking for answers that don’t ever seem to be forthcoming. 

I need to throw out those dead flowers, but I’m afraid that once I do, I won’t have anything left.  But if I’m really honest with myself, what did I ever really have?