Less Than Thrilled…

I managed to make it to a third post!

Yay me! Not exactly a habit yet, but something I plan to celebrate in my own fashion.

*cranks up my music, pretending I’m alone in my office for a few minutes!*

I see my therapist in the morning, after work (I work nights), but I’m going to be surprised if I make it back home safely. I am so exhausted, and my night isn’t even half over. Sipping my monster and listening to heavy metal should keep any girl up for a few hours, at least. I don’t know what’s going on with me. I’ve been so tired, of late. One of many minor complaints associated with an immune disorder. Ugh!

However, that doesn’t change the fact that I have to open up to Dr. Methuselah! I HAVE to do this. I mean I should have been doing so all the time. I am only hesitant because I think he would want to bring my counterpart in on a session or two. Quite honestly, I like that this is supposed to be just my time. It’s just so hard to say the words. I mean they sound so…crass! Like he’s gonna take one look at me and think, “She is a complete slut. How does she find any man who would want to touch her, let alone 3?!” Truly, the whole thing makes me seem completely classless!

I know this sounds trashy, (yet exciting) on many levels, but in reality it’s just alot to ponder. And for someone like me who, over analyzes everything, it could be quite damaging. I could obsess, stress, and even start cutting from feelings of guilt over the situation.

But let’s break down the facts.

• I don’t lie to my lovers. They both know I am married.  They both know I’m not looking for a new husband, and they both know I’m not going to ask for a commitment.
• One  (Henceforth known as SF) is also married, happily. Or at least I have no reason to think otherwise. He is more than amazing at what he does, but our time is quite limited. Though he is slightly younger than I am, he certainly holds his own in the bedroom, and knows how to handle himself in the outside world. And not that I’m a size queen, but OMG! He has all the right stuff!
• The second, (Henceforth named CW) is somewhat older, but still acts like a teenager. He manages to keep up with me, and feeds a certain need that I have to be used. He is perfect for NSA fun. He sees other women, and I have no problems with that. It keeps him from wanting a commitment. We do not socialize, and I highly doubt we would get along well enough to make any kind of relationship viable. No, we both agreed in the beginning, this was a SEX ONLY arrangement.
• I am in no position to give anyone a real relationship. I am still very much married. Even if I have shut my emotions off from my counterpart, I am legally married. We share a home. We have a family. And I do my utmost to protect my kids from all of this. They aren’t exposed to arguing parents. I made my case to my counterpart, and he seemed to grasp the concept of the consequences of not giving me what I felt I deserved from him.
• I do not deny him sex, nor satisfaction. No matter his means or methods. I have given him the freedom to do what he likes, with whomever he chooses.

So, when set out, and laid bare, I think I have handled things quite effectively. There are few things in this world, which I feel entitled to have. A happy sex life, just happens to be one of them. I have explained my feelings to my counterpart. As I said before, we even fought over the fact that I was unsatisfied. He either chooses to ignore me,  or cannot do what I want/need from my partner.

Rather than constantly remind him of that fact, I choose to handle my satisfaction elsewhere. And before you say it,  I don’t just pick random men off the street. I take time to get to know them, try to understand them in the ways that I need to, for what I plan to use them for, and IF we come to terms over the arrangement, things may progress. Not that this system doesn’t have its pitfalls, but I work hard to keep my activities, drama free for me and my partners.

I did, at one point find myself falling in love with a former lover. (As I am sure he will come up again later, his name shall be WB.) He and I spent one of the most memorable weekends of my life together! It was magic, in all the ways one would want. We felt a very strong need for one another, that extended beyond the bedroom, or at least that’s what he said. In truth, I never felt more alive and at ease, than when I was with him. And over the course of a year and a half, we built what I thought was going to be a long-term relationship.

Looking back, I should have known better. But, there we were, planning to merge our families, on the verge of leaving our respective spouses, and stupidly, I believed he loved me as strongly as I loved (still love), him! It was doomed from the beginning. We live many states apart, we come from different worlds, and we both knew the other was capable of effectively lying and cheating.

Of course, insecurities are going to run rampant in this kind of environment!

He was the first to give in to its call. Mostly, I believe because he was the first to take on another lover. His guilt was then being projected onto me. And I gave in. I let him have control of my life. He alienated me from friends I’d had for years, and if at any point I spoke up, wanting to preserve those relationships, he saw that as a threat. I never had any desire to control any part of his life. All I wanted was him. More time to talk, or see each other.  More contact. But, he was so far away.

And yes I had my fun. Just as I assumed he did. And it turns out I was right. Whilst I had one night with SF, he had one or more with someone else. The only difference…he ended up with another child, which he tried to keep secret from both me and his wife. Obviously, that all came out. And as I wasn’t really involved in any of it, I stayed out of it. He had alot of things to figure out for himself. I was just another complication. I didn’t push for anything more than an occasional phone call or text. Just something to let me know he was thinking about me.

Instead, I was accused of things I did not do. Followed by another confession from him, more secrets he failed to mention. And no matter the circumstance, I was always in the wrong. I “pushed” him away, or I received a strange email that he read, and assumed it was a hookup call; something that sparked his anger and insecurity. Only problem was, I didn’t do those things. He even deleted emails before I could see them. How could I “hook up”, when I didn’t even know about it? I apologized, and I didn’t even have a reason to do so! But every time, I felt relief when he “forgave” me. He professed endless love, and swore that he never lied to me. But none of it was true. More and more, he found fault with me. Then he’d confess to some new secret, claiming to want to save me from pain. Followed by my apologies for his problems! Utter insanity!

But still, I maintained hope that we could be together. That we could make this all work. Largely, due to his insistence that his trust issues were directly my fault. I promised to be faithful, to follow his rules, and to give him compete access to my life – something I did not even give my husband! And I had kept my promises.

All but one.

We both had issues with trust, self esteem, and depression. He had been a cutter. (First secret)  And I finally understood that level of self loathing. It was a natural progression, really. I’m a terrible girlfriend, cut. I’m a horrible wife, cut. I’m a terrible person, cut. I’m not worth loving, cut. I don’t deserve to be happy, cut. I will never be loved, cut. I made him mad again, cut.

The lines on my skin represented all the worst parts of myself. Every drop of blood was another tear I should have shed. Of course he found out about it, and it sparked another fight. One time became two, two became five, and soon it was me and a razor, making friends on the bathroom floor every night.

Every fight, set me to cutting. And every cutting session made him madder. I promised to stop. Then he’d find something else wrong with me, and I’d find my razor faster than an alcoholic could find a liquor store! It was an endless cycle.

Until he ended it.

Said he couldn’t be with someone who cut. Which I found rather hypocritical, as he too was cutting, only lying about it. I cannot, and will not blame him for the downfall of our relationship. I could have handled things differently. I could have ended things, before they got as bad as they did. I could have just walked away, when I caught him in so many lies. But I didn’t. I did everything in my power to preserve that feeling of being with him, including taking on some of his less than glamorous habits. I own up to my faults in this. And while even thinking of him now hurts, I can’t regret the time I spent with him.

One day, saying his name won’t hurt. One day, thinking about airports won’t remind me of him. One day, I’ll be able to say the words “I love you”, and mean it. One day, the scars on my leg will fade. One day, I’ll forget his voice.

However, on this day…I have to explain to my therapist how I allowed a poorly planned affair become the biggest cause of my own self destruction. I’m really not looking forward to this.

In your honor, WB, the last cryptic message you sent me.