it was just a dream i said to myself. but the tears on my pillow are very real.
cheating
All posts tagged cheating
the local news out here is full of headlines about the weather out on his side of the country, with images of his town and surrounding areas. i love winter and snow, almost as much as i love rain. today in my quiet moments i thought of how much i’d love a snow day (or two). with him.
i stumbled across this movie earlier this year and i wasn’t prepared for how much of it resonated or how it would make me feel. or rather, how much it set off some reflective moments.
for those that leave me anonymous notes or messages, yes. i get it. i am the other woman. i am cheating on my husband. he, a serial cheater, is cheating on his bride (as he calls her). judge me if you must. trust me. i get it. believe it or not, i was “the wife”. i still am the wife, but one with a different perspective and filters born from experience. i was the self-righteous and judgmental one, the one that swore i would kick my husband to the curb if he ever cheated on me, the one that would judge others very harshly if they were the cheater or even worse, pass judgment on the cheated on spouse (regardless of gender) if they chose to stay in the marriage. and then i discovered darling husbands first affair. 4-months after our marriage. actually, i didn’t discover it, as much as it was thrust upon me.
we had been married 4-months, and he was away on a guys weekend skiing up in whistler b.c. i checked the mail and was surprised to find a box addressed to me, but wrapped in wedding gift wrap. and the gift? copies of emails between my husband and a co-worker over the course of the year before we were married. and of course a letter from her to me; telling me that she was sending me the proof of their relationship in the hopes that i would do the “honorable” thing and let him leave the marriage to find true happiness with her. that she felt sorry for me, marrying someone i knew wasn’t in love with me or attracted to me. i remember throwing up and trembling as i read each and every email and wondered how in the hell did i miss all of the signs? were there signs? as soon as he called me to say good-night and heard my voice he knew something was wrong. i told him what i received and he hung up. 4 hours later he walked through the front door and we decided to try. to figure out what went wrong and whether or not we could survive this. we did. for 7 years, we went to counseling, we worked together, yes, all three of us and we moved on. or so i thought.
even after that transgression, i was still the self righteous wife. only my closest friend knew of the affair, not even my family. i was even more indignant when i heard, read or learned of other’s infidelities. i was outspoken when talking about kicking a cheating spouse out. and then the bottom fell out of my world. by then we had a small toddler, a daughter that was born a preemie and a fighter from her first breath. and clearly, the apple of my darling husband’s eye. we were a little family, we were both working in career’s we enjoyed and i was 4-years in at a company i had found my calling and my home. i was on fire and thriving and i had a great partnership with darling husband. or so i thought.
i missed the signs, and there were plenty, that i wasn’t home enough. that i wasn’t co-parenting enough. that i wasn’t paying enough attention to us or him. of course i can say that in hindsight but i digress. he fell in love. this time it was love. it wasn’t just sex with a colleague. he made plans, they made plans. plans that included my young child, our young child a blended family. and suddenly, gone was the self righteous bitch of a woman in her place was this person with a different filter and perspective. a woman that not only wasn’t ready to kick her husband to the curb, but was ready to fight to keep the marriage together. which started with me admitting to my part in his unhappiness and seeking counseling to understand my own issues. i blamed her, rudy, the other woman for all of it. i called her all of the usual names; slut, whore, home wrecker, cunt you name it, i am sure i said it. of course, it didn’t help that she was a single gal.
we put together a parenting plan, we found him a 2-bedroom apartment so that our daughter would have her own room in both homes. all that was left to do was to have the mediator file the paperwork. i was devastated. i was angry. i was exhausted. and then he couldn’t do it. he couldn’t go through with it. he didn’t want to do it to our daughter. he gave up his shot at happiness because he felt it was the right thing to do. at the time, i was ecstatic. i was willing to overlook the fact that darling husband was staying because of our child and not because of us. i believed it would be enough.
flash forward 9-years. i was wrong. we are stronger in many ways, good companions. we now have two kids and our daughter will be headed off to college. i don’t know if it’s age or that space in time during one’s mid-life where suddenly i realized that my body is my body and i am indeed a sexual being. that my husbands open and vocal dissatisfaction with my body type, plus size, and his own preference for very petite and slender women is his own issue. not mine. and i realized that i likely stopped my darling husband from being truly happy. by being with someone he really loved and was attracted to…
after years and months of dialogue, discussion and tears, so many tears, of asking darling husband to meet me half-way. to attend counseling together. to find a way to change the way things were-all to which he politely refused. i decided to seek the physical intimacy and sexual satisfaction outside of my marriage. not with the intent of ending my relationship but as a way to stay in it.
yes. i know what i am. i know what i am. i am a wife. i am *the* wife. i am the other woman. i am me.
it’s a very rare thing when he shares a picture with me. he likes to tease me and tell me that i can find him on the internet (it’s true) but i freely admit that i wish he would take a selfie or send me a picture of his face. yes, of course i have memorized every damn thing about him but there is something about him sending me a picture that sends me each and every time. it’s been a while. so when he sent a mail with the subject line: here’s a new one…i literally gasped out loud when his cerulean blue eyes jumped off the screen at me. the eyes that move me and render me speechless.
i was instantly wet. and my heart felt warm. dammit. i miss him. but now i have a picture saved to a secure drive and posted here to look at.
you know, it’s hard for me to transition back into my real every day life when i don’t know when i am going to see him again. in real life, in person, in the same breathing space. these past few months the transition really was much easier. but now it’s been a few months since we’ve seen each other in real life and the holidays are tough. to get time to interact even virtually, as expected as we are both in marriages with children, family obligations etc. I get it.
just because i get it doesn’t mean it doesn’t twinge. just because we do not talk about changing our situation or ever loving each outside of the mutual admiration society we have, doesn’t mean that i don’t miss him or have an ache around what we are.
just some musings…
a follower asked me why i’m still with my husband besides the kids. you know, truthfully, if you asked me the question prior to meeting “him” it would have been easier for me to answer. dh is a good man, a sexy, smart and decent man. yes, even with the two affairs. the first about 4 years into our relationship with a mutual co-worker that I loathe to this day, and the second, the one that almost ended us, the one that i wonder if he should have followed his heart, was 12-years ago. i digress.
dh and i are good companions, partners and we are very good at the you and me against the world thing. but now, now i don’t know that i could give the same answer. i still love him. he is a good man, a sexy man, a smart man and a good dad. we haven’t been good companions as of late. the stresses of work, the division of our duties with the kids requiring us to divide and conquer, his career stresses and demands take so much out of him that even the simplest of pleasures we shared, which aren’t even physical ones at that, are almost non existent. sometimes talking to “him” is hard because he and his bride (he has a habit of calling his wife his “lovely bride” in public, on facebook etc. ) have a good relationship. mind you, i don’t ask specifics, but he doesn’t talk bad about her at all and expresses concern when she’s been ill or has stresses in her life. so when i hear about his plans for the weekend or know that the drive in the sports car was with her it hurts. not because it isn’t me but because i wish i had that at home too. sometimes but not much and not often and not in a very long time. *sigh*
additionally, now, knowing him, loving him, being wanted by him i have realized how much is missing in my life. how much my therapist has been so accurate over the years about accepting what is as what i deserve instead of seeing that what is doesn’t have to be. or does it? i do wonder if weekends, when we don’t typically see one another, would be easier if i felt like dh and i were partners, went out on dates, something?!
that’s all
eighteen months ago. who knew? eighteen months ago.
for everything that has transpired. for the way my eyes have been opened and my heart beats i am grateful. to know he will never be mine. i would still be the first one to lean up for that kiss. that. very. first. kiss.
We missed completely today. Not even a quickie so to speak. Today was a hard day, no particular reason and a million and one reasons. One of those days. And I missed him. I miss him. And I hate being this way. I hate that I miss him, ache for him, long for him, want him, need him, the way that I do.
I can’t sleep. Again. No, I mean, as usual. I have had an intimate relationship with Insomnia since my pre-teen years. Most of the time, it doesn’t bother me. Sometime’s I swear my soul is dying and I’m begging for a decent r.e.m. cycle. And other times, I welcomed him with open arms, taking great pride in being able to balance many things and get projects done in the middle of the night when the rest of the household is asleep.
My doctor’s have been very clear with me over the last few months. I have got to sleep. I need to reduce my stress, even my good stress and repair. Tonight, tonight I can’t sleep, I’ve made the cake for one child’s birthday, prepped for tomorrow, and took care of some items for my oldest. Darling husband is sleeping and I’m listening to the storm rolling through.
I can’t help but think of him. My long distance lover who I didn’t get to interact with at all today. I knew this was going to be the case, given his role in his community and the community event for a very good cause. Still, he knows how much connection of some sort, any sort, is to me and I grinned when I saw the simple email he sent saying good morning. I was positively giddy when he sent an unexpected text of a picture of him at the event. And his good night mail to me made me blush.
And so, as the rain tries to lull me, I think back to the time before last in which we had several hours together over the course of a few days in the same general area. And I *sigh*. It had to be one of our best moments together, ever. I don’t know if it’s because we are both on a similar page in regard to our pleasure. Or me knowing that he has a pattern to his travel routine and by knowing it, I can work within the construct of those boundaries for us to have a lovely time. Whether it’s dining at the local pub and enjoying trivia night. Or catching lunch before he heads to his presentation and enjoying time with him in public as friends. And of course, the amazing sex that fans the flames of desire. Flames that don’t seem to fade or even flicker. My god, I thought I was horny, lustful and yearning before I met him.
If only. I had no idea how much more sexually wanting and open I’ve become because of him. Because he genuinely desires me and lusts for me as me. He isn’t judgmental and he is so incredibly sexy that I can’t help but feel desirable, sexy and free to be wanton when I’m with him. By knowing him. Whether or not he would spend the night wasn’t the point. The point was purely a selfish indulgence on my part. And it was spectacular. And worth every damn penny.
He fucked me up against the floor to ceiling windows looking out over the water. He fucked my thoroughly on the couch and then I scrambled on top to ride him hard, cowgirl style until my thighs gave out and I had squirted on his belly. And the glass shower, and the two person tub, and the desk and the bed.
The recollections sustain me and also kill me. Literally. And so here I am, wide awake, recalling very vivid memories of him from not so long ago.
*sigh*
is me is really me 