Thursday, July 31, 2008

Telling the Children: Part 4

One week ago, I admitted my affair to E, my wife. From her perspective, while it was terrible for me to betray her trust, much worse is my lack of repentance. She demanded immediate, temporary separation in the days afterward, and my first priority was to personally inform each of our four children, A, B, C and D, what was going on. This is the fourth and last in the series, Telling the Children.

It was Monday, and only C was left to tell. With her broken cell phone, and the fact that she was housesitting for G1 (E's girlfriend) over the weekend, she had been hard to reach. But we made arrangements to meet that evening when I got home from work.

C has always been a sweet, loving daughter, and we've been very close. She is just a few years out of high school, halfway through college at a well-known Bay Area university. She seems fine this summer, but her college career has not been going smoothly, and I am concerned that she has been depressed the past several years. More than any of the other kids I am afraid of how she is taking this.

I arrived home at about 6:30 and found her getting some old movies out of the garage, where they've been stored during our home remodeling. Our family has always loved movies -- we disconnected the cable service when the kids were small and just watched laserdiscs (!), video tapes, and finally DVDs. Now it's a refuge for them.

"Let's go get dinner. Where would you like to eat?" I ask. But she ate lunch at 4pm -- she only wants ice cream. Hmm. I'm a little hungry, but it'll keep. Off to Baskin-Robbins ...

The store is pretty quiet even with a steady stream of customers. Too quiet. So after we get our ice cream we head outside to talk. It's breezy and we're both a little cold. I don't think either one of us really wants to have this conversation.

Finally I begin the now-familiar, almost tired-sounding spiel, how over the past several years there has been a widening distance between E and myself, how my own religious beliefs have also eroded and changed, that I've had an affair (now ended), and that I'm not sure I want to go back to the way things were. I tell her about my own depression and how it's been lifted. We both shiver in the rapidly cooling air.

C begins to talk. C has spent the last several days with E over at G1's house, even while G1 was gone, so she's had to bear the brunt of E's pain, humiliation, rage, and tears. So she already knew what was going on.

Both my daughters are little chatterboxes, but tonight I think C is hiding her own pain behind the chatter. If I wanted, I could get away with saying very little the rest of our time together.

But no, she's not "hiding her own pain", she's using it. She's telling me about her depression in college, her inability to get up and get things done. She's telling me about her depression in high school and her suicidal thoughts. And now we're into an excellent discussion of Martin Seligman's book Learned Optimism, which I'm reading at the moment. Of how feelings of helplessness lead directly to depression. And I think she understands that I was feeling helpless for a long time to change my marriage.

We had a good talk, I know she loves me and supports me in some sense anyway. But I know she's saddened by what's happened, and I desperately hope that it doesn't become a new gray fog around her head and shoulders, pulling her down. All because of something she's helpless to change.

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Telling the Children: Part 3

Continuing the saga of informing the kids (A, B, C and D) that my wife E and I are in "marital difficulties". In episodes 1 and 2 we informed B and D.

E and I had concert tickets to see Emmylou Harris at the Mountain Winery in Saratoga last Sunday night. Not surprisingly, E had no desire to go there with me, nor did she feel like using the tickets herself. We had the same problem Friday with the Doobie Brothers, and it was so last minute that time that I couldn't get anybody to go with me so I went by myself.

But this time, I realized I could use the opportunity to talk to A or C. I don't remember how, but I wound up inviting A. She is our oldest, married and in her mid-20s.

I like to get to the Mountain Winery early. You can relax and eat, and when you have General Admission seating (which is most of the time for me) you can get a much better seat. Emmylou Harris is not so popular, however, so this time I had reserved seats. "A" came to the house about 5:30 and off we went for the 20 minute drive.

She knew something was up, but she didn't know what. And A is usually great at finding out from her siblings whatever she wants to know. But not this time -- they all told her to wait and talk to dad.

So once we were in the car on the freeway I got right to the point. I told her about the increasing distance between her mother and myself over the past few years. And that within the past year I sought and realized an affair. I told her that my religous faith had ebbed. I even told her that I actually felt much more personal relief now that this was out in the open, and was happier than I'd been in a while. And that I really wasn't sure whether I wanted to rebuild the marriage.

Well, A was surprised, but not all that surprised. She told me about recent indiscretions of her own. She assured me of her love and support. And that was about it! We went on to the Mountain Winery, had a great time at the concert, and did not spend too much more time agonizing over this collapsing marriage.

I'm a little embarrassed because part of me thinks I should be crying and moping around the house. Possibly falling on my knees in prayer, or pestering the pastor. Certainly suffering in some way. But certainly not enjoying myself at a concert (actually I was disappointed in our seats, but that's another story).

Well, the fact is that I really don't miss E right now. I am preferring this peace and space.

But I'm sure I'll miss the peace and space in my nice house when I have to move out. E's still staying with girlfriend G1, then will be out of town next week. But after that I've agreed to be gone.

I'll probably move in with my daughter, A, and her husband. It'll save a fortune in rent, and we do get along very well.

Yet Even Now

A friend of mine posted this last week. I just happened to re-read it and found it even more meaningful now.

Yet even now a master waits your word
A power within which by your voice is stirred
To lift the weight of doubt, drive out the pain
Of throbbing drums that beat upon your brain-
The old regrets and stifled memories,
Suppressed emotions and uncertainties;
It bids confusion and all fear begone
That you may rest in peace until the dawn.

-Fenwicke Holmes

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Telling the Children: Part 2

This is the second post describing the process of telling our four children, A, B, C and D, about the issues that have resulted in my current separation from E.

Saturday morning dawned clear and bright. With E gone, I was alone in bed. I felt rested, somewhat refreshed, and curiously optimistic for the future.

Today I had things to do. Chores at my desk that I'd put off for a year were at last, with the lifting of my cloud, getting done. And I needed to talk to B.

B is my oldest son. He's in his mid-20s and lives in the D.C. area. And B already knew about my affair.

We had done some foreign travel together early this year while Tiggy and I were still seeing each other and we had talked about it then. It was going to be a huge relief for both of us that it would no longer be our secret.

B is gay, a circumstance which has not gone down well in our Christian family, and so cannot help but be regarded as something of a black sheep. I have tried to be loving, but it was only after spending a lot of time with the much-more-broad-minded Tiggy that I began to be truly accepting of his choice.

I don't think any heterosexual parent will be pleased that their child is queer. But at least I had stopped waiting for him to change, and could begin to imagine myself some day meeting his partner.

Some months after discussing my marriage problems and my affair with B, I read Don-David Lusterman's excellent book Infidelity. Lusterman is generally cautionary about confiding in friends and family regarding an affair, and he is adamant that you should never confide in your children. It puts them in the awkward position of having to keep a secret from their other parent, thus taking sides and having to bear your burden. It's not fair to them, because it's not their problem, it's your problem.

And shortly after I read this in Lusterman, B himself told me that he wouldn't keep this secret forever: I was going to have to talk to mom at some point.

I called B's cell phone Saturday morning and left him a message, "Well son, I told your mother about my affair" and so forth. B called back a few hours later and we talked at length.

Like me, B was relieved that this step had been taken -- he knew that it was exceedingly painful, but he believed it to be necessary. Of course he was concerned about how his mom was taking it -- not well -- but we both felt that a weight had been lifted. Surprising, perhaps.

During our conversation, he reflected on the time months before when I had told him about Tiggy. He informed me that it had been vitally important to him that I didn't just say "I had an affair" but that I provided the context for it: the decline of our marriage relationship. B encouraged me to make this clear to the other kids so that they would understand the real issue: the ever-widening gap between E and myself, and my lingering and growing unhappiness.

When we finished, I knew once again that whatever came of it, my admission to E had been the right step to take. I don't know where this road is leading, and in fact I doubt that there is any "road" at all, just an imprecise bearing to follow through the storm. But I know I'm not walking alone.

Monday, July 28, 2008

Telling the Children: Part 1

Last week, in the wee hours Thursday morning, I confessed my affair to my wife E. This is the fifth post in the continuing story of what's happening ...

E and I have four children. I'll just call them A, B, C and D (A's the oldest). They are all adults -- legally anyway -- D, the youngest, being 18 and A, the oldest, in her mid-20's and married. I had assumed that E and I would sit down together with the three who live locally and tell them what was going on. But that was not to be.

When I last saw E Saturday afternoon, she told me that she really couldn't stand to be in the same room with me. She didn't care how I told the kids, but it wasn't going to be with her. Well, ok.

Now please bear with me, this first part may get a little confusing... Saturday, D was home, so I invited him to dinner. I also wanted C to join us, but C's cell phone is broken. C is housesitting for E's girlfriend G1, so I drove over there to see if I could get her. Unfortunately (or fortunately) I saw E's car there and realized that this is where she had gone to escape me. E had been adamant about not seeing me, and was clearly in a lot of pain, so I decided it was better to leave her alone. Thus, my first discussion is with D alone.

Telling D

D has already been told some stuff by his mother, so he knows generally what's going on. Over dinner I lay it out for him: the gradually increasing distance between E and myself over the past years, my own change of heart regarding Christianity (I am choosing to reject it), my deliberate choice to seek a lover and begin an affair which ended some months ago, my own journey in trying to understand what to do next and finally, my choice to admit it all to E in answer to her questions.

I was impressed with my son's mature response. He assured me of his love and continued commitment to our relationship as father and son. And he told me some things about his own struggles over the past few years of which I had been completely in the dark -- and how his renewed faith in Christ had brought him around. He made it clear that he thought my rejection of the faith was wrong, that my affair was wrong, and that I needed to repent and really commit to fixing my marriage. But the whole time he was calm and loving.

Well done, son. Just like we taught you. I was very proud of him.

Saturday, July 26, 2008

"I Want You To Be Gone"

This is the fourth post in the real-time adventure that has become my life since I admitted to her in the wee hours last Thursday morning that I have had an affair.

Today is Saturday and since I didn't go to work, E and I were in the house together for a good part of the day. It wasn't comfortable. I went out twice for errands and didn't hurry back.

I have been reading a brilliant book called Learned Optimism by noted psychologist Martin Seligman, and managed to squeeze out an hour or two reading it over coffee.

No Longer Helpless

Cracking open the situation between E and myself has greatly relieved my feeling of being helpless to change things. Not coincidentally, that is precisely the subject of Seligman's research. The causal connection leading from helplessness directly to depression has been, during the past 25 years, clinically proven with great rigor. So it's entirely predictable that as I take action now to change my situation, the low-level clouds of depression that have been hovering over me for ages are quickly breaking up.

I'll give an example. Scattered on or around my desk at home is important paperwork that I have utterly neglected for months, and some of it for a full year. Not minor stuff, but things that absolutely must get done. But I haven't been able to face it! Classic depressive symptoms. Well, today it has been getting done! And I even repaired a broken door handle that I'd pointedly ignored for months. Good, and getting better.

But it's not all good.

"We need to talk"

It was late afternoon then when E stuck her head into my office and said, "We need to talk." Well, of course we do (and she took no notice of my progress at my desk).

She had been over to talk to her sister and sister's husband. Told them all about our situation. Then E said to me, "I'm going to stay somewhere else for a few days, and when I get back I want you to be gone. I can't stand being in the same house with you. I hated sleeping in the same bed with you. And since I'm not to blame, I think you should be the one to move out."

To be more precise, she wants me to move out until I'm clear that I want to try to make our marriage work. If and when I agree that I'm committed to that goal I can come back.

And that's the major sticking point: I'm not sure I do want to make it work anymore. Confessing an affair that ended months ago is one thing. But the real issue is whether and how we move forward from here. E is indeed hurt and angry over the affair, but she is more disturbed by my lack of repentance.

But Should I Move Out?

I'm not entirely convinced that it's a good idea to move out. It's as much my house as hers, and I've heard rumors of legal issues when one spouse moves out. There's also the question of whether it's really the best way to resolve our problems. It's not as if I'm shagging anybody else right now.

Speaking of which, in all seriousness I'm glad that Tigs and I are done. That would certainly be an added complication right now. Notwithstanding my newfound empowerment, my stomach is starting to knot up and I wouldn't be good company. And this way Tiggy doesn't have to stress over it -- we're in "no contact" mode so she knows nothing of this week's events.

Perhaps it's time to get some professional legal advice ... or just Google it.

Friday, July 25, 2008

Demon Possessed?

It's been about 30 hours since I admitted to my wife E that I have been unfaithful. This is the third post in the series. My last one ended yesterday morning: E was gone when I went downstairs.

I am fortunate that my work is both demanding and engaging -- my thoughts were almost completely occupied throughout the day, with only a dim heartache and my tired eyes to remind me of the weighty steps taken in the wee hours that morning.

Around 6pm my oldest daughter called: she wanted to know if I would join her and E at the movies. Well, there wasn't enough time for me to get home, but at least I knew where E was. Ate dinner at work and drove home about 7:30 without having to fight much traffic.

On the way I got a call from my oldest son who lives out of town. He has known about my affair and I had left a message for him earlier in the day, explaining that I had told E. We had a good talk, some elements of which might become another blog post. I have come to realize in the past couple of months that I was very wrong to burden him with this secret knowledge.

I was watching a DVD movie (The Fountain -- excellent!) when E got home with our daughter. Daughter greeted me warmly while E went to bed without much said. She explained that she didn't sleep the previous night. I don't think E told her anything.

At some point she went to her girlfriend G1's house early that morning and drove her to the airport and there's a good chance that E told G1 about my confession, but I don't know. G1 and I have long had a little flirty thing going on, even before E met G1, so I'm curious to see her reaction. I have a fantasy that now she'll lose her inhibitions and loose her passions upon me, but am frankly doubtful.

I went to bed late and E was asleep. We shared the bed as usual -- it's a king and it's quite easy to spend the night without touching at all. In fact too easy, and until I confessed my affair E had been thinking that this bed was the root cause of some of our distance.

So it wasn't until this morning, after I was dressed and ready to leave that we really talked. And once again I have to apologize to readers, because I simply cannot capture the depth of her anger and hurt.

E cannot understand what has happened to the man she thought she knew, the man she married almost 29 years ago. She told me, "I want my husband back! Not the demon that seems to have possessed you." From her standpoint, as a conservative Christian, a demon is a good explanation of what seems to be a sudden change in me. Believe me, this is no joke, and I hope I can avoid being dragged into some sort of exorcism.

E has built her entire life around me. All her hopes for the future have been wrapped around me. And in the first part of our talk (she talked, I listened) she expressed her hurt and rage that I would do this to her. "I can't believe you could be so cruel!" She's trying to forgive me, but doesn't think she can ever feel the same way about me.

At some point she asked me how I was expecting to fix this, or how I expected to move forward together. And that was when I said I wasn't sure I wanted to. Her pain and tears are right in the front of my mind as I write this.

I am not a cruel person. I am repelled by the thought of hurting others and often go to great lengths to avoid conflict. And while I do want to nurture whatever empathy I have, I also want to be more bold about speaking my truth. Yes, this is something I learned from Tiggy. Ah, Tiggy.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

In The Darkness Before Dawn

This is a continuation of the story of what happened last night (actually in the early hours of this morning) when I told E about my affair.

"Have you been unfaithful?" she asked as I started to snuggle. We were in bed and it was nearly 2:30 am.

I answered her honestly: "Yes."

I don't even remember exactly what she asked next. There were a series of quiet questions.

"Are you still seeing her?" No.

"How long did you see each other?" A few months. It was actually six full months of sex, followed by a few hopeful, bedraggled months as friends.

"What is her name?" I'm sorry, I don't think I should tell you.

"I want to know her name!" No, I don't think that's appropriate.

"That urologist you saw, was that really a vasectomy?" Yes.

"I'll have to get an STD test!" If you like, but I've already had one. And we were careful. Anyway E and I have only had six maybe three times in the past 9 months.

"How could you do this!?"

More questions. Her anger begins to burn and she gets up, grabbing her robe. I suggest she stay in bed and I'll go downstairs and sleep on the couch.

"I'm not going to let you be a martyr over this!" As she storms out of the bedroom and down the stairs I can hear her heavy sobs. They continue. I grab my own robe and go down to her. The windows are open downstairs to cool the house with the night air, and in the 3am darkness before dawn it's cold. I pick up a blanket and bring it to her. "I don't want your blanket! Just leave me alone and let me cry!" The sobs continue. I know I've hurt her more than anyone ever has, more than anyone else ever could. She trusted me and I've betrayed her.

I'm back upstairs, I lie in bed for a while, I hear her deep, racking sobs below me. Finally the robe goes on again and I grab my pillow. Descending the stairs I face her once more in the darkened, unlit room.

"Sit down!" she insists. She's been thinking about her response. I offer E the blanket once more but, spurned, I wrap it around myself. The pillow in my lap is a soft familiar comfort.

She has some demands.

"I want us to get counseling." Ok. (This one's easy, we talked about it earlier in the evening already).

"It has to be a Christian counselor." Ok. (It's not what I would prefer, but E will be much more comfortable. They'll probably gang up on me, but I'll deal with that when it happens.)

"Who have you told?" I pause. "Nobody, except the counselors I've seen." This is a lie, but I don't want to drag anybody else into it.

"Who shall we tell? Do you want to tell the children? I am so embarassed for you!"

I'm afraid my writing is inadequate to capture her pain, her barely suppressed rage, her frequent interjections along the lines of "How could you do this?" "I'm such a fool!" "You're such a fool!" "I can't believe you would do this!" Please use your imagination.

I am berated, I am blamed. Then she looks for other sources of blame:

The children (!), especially our two older ones. As backslidden Christians they have pulled me down!

My work! I'm too involved in it. There are too many young people there, making me think young thoughts. I am accused of acting like I'm "between 15 and 25".

My drinking! But actually I drink too much because I am unhappy, not the other way around. She realizes this for herself and drops it for now.

About 40 minutes go by in this way, it's a little after 3:30 am and we're getting very tired. Once again I offer to sleep on the couch and let her go up to bed. But she declines, says she's not ready to go to bed. I climb the dark stairs alone, pull up the covers and am surprised to find that I feel relief.

Every night for several years I've gone to bed with my secret unhappiness, and for months my secret love. I've been a slave to my own cowardice and fear. I've hated myself for allowing myself to be so miserable, and I've wondered if I could ever risk breaking E's heart in order to be honest with her. All those demons are now gone. I slept well.

I woke about 6:30 to a bright sunny morning. As I showered, shaved and dressed I wondered what would happen next. And when I went downstairs, E was gone.

I Told My Wife

Last night E and I spent the evening outdoors at Saratoga's Mountain Winery, listening to Ringo Starr and his All-Starr Band. My favorite venue, this year's reconstruction has cost it much of its charm but it's no longer falling apart. Afterwards we sat on the terrace overlooking the lights of Silicon Valley -- I sipped my Remy while she drank her water, and we talked.

We began to talk about our marriage, and the fact that we have increasingly drifted apart, that we don't feel so well-connected anymore. We talked about religion and my changing views. We even touched on the possibility of divorce, a taboo we've never uttered to each other before. This was a huge step for me -- I want my marriage either to be better or I want it to end: I won't let it drag on the way it has been.

After we got home and E went to bed, I stayed up and did some work on the computer, and even wrote my response to Tiggy's last letter. Got myself to bed about 2:15 am.

Surprisingly, E was still awake -- maybe they gave her regular coffee at the concert by mistake. As I climbed into bed and rolled over to kiss her goodnight, she asked me

"Have you been unfaithful?"

Not the first time she's asked me. I recently finished Lusterman's helpful book Infidelity. He argues from years of experience as a psychiatrist specializing in the subject that the lying is the most destructive part of an affair. In particular he strongly advocates that when asked a direct question about unfaithfulness, one should tell the truth. Seems odd, I know.

In my case, the fear of separation or divorce has been progressively diminishing as I weigh the choices before me. Most important to me has become the need to take some action and move forward. So I answered her:


Sunday, July 20, 2008

What About The Kids?

Reader Having My Cake responded to my last post, Will I Leave My Wife?, and noted that for many of us it is the question of access to the children that keeps us from leaving our spouses and moving on.

My kids (I have more than two) are older -- the youngest is 18 and heading off to college. So legal access isn't a factor for me, thankfully. But there is still the question of how a separation or divorce will affect them. So it's still complicated, isn't it?

For example, when our relationship first became more serious, Tiggy expressed concern that if I left my wife for her, then my children would hate her. Well maybe they would, maybe they wouldn't, but it's a legitimate fear. So this is one reason why I think it's helpful to separate the questions: #1 "Should I leave my wife?" from #2 "Should I marry ____?"

And somewhere, hovering over the landscape like a cloud, is the question of just how much one should worry about the effect on the kids. They may be more resilient and flexible than we think. Am I just using them as an excuse for my lack of courage? And should we even allow ourselves to become martyrs to the happiness of others, even our own children?

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Will I Leave My Wife?

I don't know if I'm going to leave my wife E. Until I met Tiggy, I just assumed that I would never leave E. But then, like most romantically involved lovers, I imagined myself being married to Tiggy instead, or at least being free to enjoy our feelings openly and daily.

So that led to more introspection: why wasn't I happy in my marriage? Was I thinking of leaving E just because of Tiggy? Or if Tiggy were gone, and there was nobody else, would I still want to leave E?

And these introspections have been going on for about seven months. I'm sure that's why Tiggy said "Enough's enough" and hit the big red X on the corner of our relationship window.

But actually I've been making progress. Five counseling sessions didn't help much. But I read Lusterman's book "Infidelity" and came away with a lot of insights. I also read Osho's "Courage" and began to see more clearly how important change and newness is to human freedom.

Finally I've had some very serious and open conversations recently with close friends, including one I've known 45 years and has, frankly, a lot more life experience than I do. And while she didn't say I should do one or the other, she did ask me another one of those insightful questions: "Do I look forward to seeing E when I come home?".

Well, the answer is no. And it's been no for about 10 years. This clarity is good because it pertains to my long-term marriage issues, and has nothing to do with an affair or any particular partner.

Maybe the question now is, "Will I have the courage to step out into an unknown future that will break E's heart, tear up my children, and cause lasting financial damage to my family."

Ah, at what cost the pursuit of happiness?

Friday, July 18, 2008

My Thoughts ...

A day or so after I wrote this, I added a postscript in the comments section, and I've decided to make it more prominent: "My purpose in this post is simply to express my current thoughts. I don't intend to be making excuses or defending myself. Hey I'm the hypocritical church-going married guy who is betraying his wife's trust and breaking Tiggy's heart. So I don't expect to be anybody's hero in all this."

At her insistence, I won't be writing to Tiggy anymore, but that leaves me with things unsaid. Her note to me is the epitome of bitter and sweet. She loves me but rejects all further contact, at least until I leave my wife.

  • I still have no regrets about anything we've done together.
  • I cannot think of any way in which I have been less than honest with Tiggy.
Over the past 3 months, since she informed me that we would no longer be lovers, I know I sincerely made every effort to become long-term friends.

  • I have honored her boundaries.
  • I have not tried to seduce her or talk her into anything.
  • I have given her space, not tried to contact her every day.
  • And I've tried to get feedback from her at every level so that I could stay within her comfort zone. Even the hug, which left me dizzy. I asked her the next day if it was too much.
Yet I got silence, a few terse sentences here and there, and finally this big "fuck you".

I'm not oblivious to Tiggy's pain, I only wish that she could
  • Treat me as friend.
  • Communicate better. Did we hug too long? Tell me! We could have been pen pals damn it.
  • Be just a little more consistent in her messages to me.
Her final message, along with her blog post, is not very complimentary to me but I accept that's the way she feels. It doesn't really matter, but that last night when we hugged for minutes, I wasn't going home to my wife. My wife was out of town and I went home to an empty house. I could have stayed with Tiggy and she knew that. I pulled myself away and got in my car only because of the boundaries she had laid down.

In The End ...

I received this email from Tiggy two days ago ...

Thanks for the messages. The last two weeks have been an interesting vacation, not just from the office, but in some ways, from you.

In our last phone conversation, you asked me if seeing you was hard, and I vaguely replied - Keep on skating, explore new terrain.

It is hard, and I'm over it being hard and painful for me. Your conversation with N is as vague to me as you telling E you might go to Brazil. I realize that, once again, it is up to me to have the big girl panties on, and set the boundaries. I come back to: Contact me when you are actually available, not before.

I started a new profile, started a new blog, and yes, started dating other men. I guess I'm taking my own advice - skating, and exploring new terrain.

I do love you, but I can't hang on to any more false hopes.

And she attached a copy of a post from her new blog:

Blog post: Opportunity Knocking Jul 13, 2008 3:36 pm
Mood: Starting fresh, 39 Views

We were hugging goodbye. The "I am not your friend - I am your lover" kinda hug, full bodied, for many seconds that passed into minutes.

In my head I thought, "One day. One day soon. I will be with someone just like you. I will be with somebody just like you, only they won't leave..."

I pulled back, and my eyes looked into yours, and the words flashed through my mind, "I really thought it was you. I had hoped it was you and I had wished it was you. I had wanted it to be you..."

But you left. Got into your car and drove back to your wife. Damn, I am so done with married men.

The only way to be done is, well, to be done. No more texts, no more reading your blog, no more phone calls. Above all, more than not seeing each other, no more touching. The "3 second rule" dictates that any physical touch longer than three seconds is interpreted by our brains as sexual.

We had a sexual affair. Then the sex stopped, but it continued as an emotional affair. The flirtations, the innuendos, the lingering touches...

My body is on fuckin' fire and I am done being toyed with. Every time we see each other you reel me close, make false promises that you have no intention of following through on, then thrust me away with some reminder of your marriage, of how poor victim you are somehow trapped with no options.

The only way I can have good boundaries is to be clear in myself, or by getting laid by someone else, so my biochemistry can shift already. I know what I want - I know the potential I saw in you, but I am done being in love with potential.

Click. Click. Click. That's the sound of me locking you out. Out of my mind, out of my heart, out of my twat. Knock, Knock, Knock. What's that? Must be opportunity a knocking...


This quote came attached to this day's edition of A.Word.A.Day:

Only enemies speak the truth; friends and lovers lie endlessly, caught in the web of duty. -Stephen King, novelist (b. 1947)