Sometimes I wish that life came with a remote control.
I would like the option to hit pause, and enjoy my kids at certain ages and stages just a little longer. I would like to hit stop, and then rewind when I make a bad decision. I would like to hit stop when things are just too hard, and play again when I feel strong enough to do so. And I would like to hit play when things are going just perfect and I can continue along.
Right now I would love to hit fast forward.
My life is daunting to me at this moment. The past 5 days were glorious. My husband was out of town (this never happens), and I had a good taste of what being the only parent felt like. And I am beyond capable. I sell myself short. I don't need anyone.
Steven and I enjoyed the added time that was available, and spent a few hours on Thursday afternoon and Friday morning together at my house. The kids were at school, and we enjoyed just having mellow "real" time. Time that wasn't in a hotel room. Talking, looking at pictures, just hanging out. Don't get me wrong...you know that the opportunity was taken to have sex...bent over the bathroom counter, looking in the mirror that is in my headboard...good intense, efficient sex. What I refer to as GOOD FUCKING.
We had Saturday evening together as well...all night. Grandma took my kids, and he was able to finagle a work excuse to not go home. We had an evening that started with great lovemaking, followed by an amazing dinner, drinks, dancing, and just really enjoying each other. The night ended with singing and dancing in the rain by our lake, and then retreating to our hotel room for more great sex, and sleeping next to each other which is a real luxury. The night was so perfect that I am choosing to leave the description at this...sometimes things are too intimate, too special, and too US for words.
So, here we are. Monday night. And while I would love to rewind and have the past 5 days happen again, I would also like to hit fast forward. AN ENTIRE YEAR.
I took a huge leap today. HUGE. I spent the day with my parents, and finally had the courage to tell them about the state of my marriage. I was very honest. They weren't surprised...I have eluded to marital issues all year. However, this afternoon I told them everything. Of course I did not share anything about Steven (or any other affairs that I have had). I shared what have been my issues. It took a lot for me to say them out loud. To say I HAVE A HUSBAND THAT IS A HARD WORKER, A GREAT FATHER, BUT IS NOT MEETING MY NEEDS AS A HUSBAND. HE HAS A GAMBLING ADDICTION. HE HAS SEXUAL ISSUES THAT HE REFUSES TO SEE A DOCTOR FOR. I HAVE BEEN LONELY, REJECTED, AND UNHAPPY FOR AWHILE. The night before he went out of town last week I had been feeling under the weather and asked him to rub my back and lay with me so I could fall asleep. His response was that he couldn't play poker online and do that. This is just one example of ways that this marriage is not much of a marriage anymore.
My family has always adored my husband. I know that my siblings have thought of him as a sibling, and my parents have thought of him as a son. He has been in our lives since I was 16. They see him with our children, and admire what a wonderful father he is. They see him tirelessly work hard for our family. And I get this. He is a great guy. A nice guy. However, he isn't enough for me. He isn't what is best for me. We have had a broken marriage for years, and I am done with the acting. The fakeness. The acting. It is time to face the music and take care of me for once.
So, there I was. Sitting outside on a beautiful fall day, crying. Talking to my parents. And their response and reaction was completely different than I had anticipated. I was prepared for them to encourage counseling. To tell me to pray about it. To tell me that I could do this, that we just needed to work harder.
Instead I received more support than I could have imagined. It wasn't even suggested that staying together was an option. They both said that they saw this coming. I was encouraged to be responsible and to start saving money. To think about me. To take care of myself. And after I got home this evening, my mother called to tell me to keep talking, remember to take care of myself, and that they loved me.
I sat on the stairs, hiding from my kids, and cried. I feel like this was one of my biggest challenges, and I did it. I have family support. I am loved. I can do this.
I wish that I could see ahead a year. See what my life will be like. What my relationship with Steven will look like. The amount of unknowns scares me. I like organization. Things to be lined out. Schedules. Plans. And NONE of that happens in situations like these.
I don't want to be a single parent. I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be without a spouse. I don't want to be financially in a worse position. I don't want to adjust my lifestyle drastically from how it is now. I want to wave a wand, and POOF...have Steven in the place of my husband. And life happily ever after. I want to avoid the messiness that is ahead of me.
And I can't. I can't. While in my heart I know that what I am doing is for ME and not for Steven, I would be lying to say that he isn't a factor. It would be real easy to continue living how I am. I could trade the marital issues in exchange for the comforts of everything else. I could continue as is. My husband has said to do what I need to do (like have an affair) as long as I am not blatant about it. I could keep that up. I could keep my children with both of their parents. I would be lying if I didn't admit that knowing that I have a future with Steven isn't a big motivator.
Yet, I need to take care of me. I need out. I need a new start. I need to do this right. I want a marriage done right. More than anything. I know in my heart that I am meant to be with Steven. There is no doubt. And I know that it will happen. I have moments of doubt...moments that I worry he will just say fuck it, and decide that his marriage isn't that bad. That he can stick it out and stay married until his kids are older. That I am not what he needs. That this is too hard.
I have to trust that things will happen the way they are supposed to. I have to trust that regardless of my relationship with Steven, that I am doing what I need to do, for me. I have to realize that I have a great support system within my family and a few of my friends.
I need to remember to breathe, and that fast forwarding isn't an option. I need to work towards a divorce that impacts my children minimally. I need to think about myself and what I need.
I need to trust that Steven and I will look back on these trying time and know that we did the right thing, for the right reasons, and that it was worth it. And when that time comes, I want to relish it. And most likely I will want to hit pause and savor that moment, and then hit play so that we can continue our lives. Together.
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Showing posts with label MY MARRIAGE. Show all posts
Showing posts with label MY MARRIAGE. Show all posts
Monday, October 5, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
KISS IT AND MAKE IT BETTER
As always, we are behaving as our normal, volatile selves, and paying the price for it.
I used to be okay with the thought of Steven sleeping with his wife. It happens so infrequently. I am confident in myself, and in our relationship. I don't feel threatened. I don't feel like it is a competition. There is one thing, one BIG THING though that she has, and I don't.
She is MARRIED to him.
We have had our share of disputes regarding ME having sex with my husband. I understand each and every one of the issues. My husband has gotten sex with me when he pleases, regardless of what is going on, how I feel, etc. It is rarely good sex. It rarely lasts more than 10 minutes. It is a struggle for him to maintain an erection sometimes, and other times he is battling premature ejaculation. I know that Steven thinks that I am too accommodating. He thinks that my husband doesn't appreciate what he has. There are many more issues, and all of them make sense.
I have had a nonchalant attitude about Steven's sex life with is wife. I haven't cared too much. There are days that I don't want to hear about it, but overall I haven't cared.
This past week has been a week for laying ground work. I have had conversations with my mother, sister, and a friend regarding my marriage. I have insinuated to them that things aren't okay. That I am not happy. Most importantly, I have had a good conversation with my husband. A conversation that was along the lines of the fact that we are both unhappy, that we both deserve to be happy, and that we need to work together to be the best parents possible to our children while sorting things out and moving our own directions. And later that night when I saw him looking through picture albums, it was like a knife to my heart. Strangely, he looked peaceful. Accepting. Okay. However, he knows. I know. We have both known. We don't have a "marriage". We have a good partnership. A good arrangement. And we both should have so much more.
And I was feeling AMAZING. As if I could see this happening. As if I was finally headed in the right direction. And Steven and I were on the same page. We have set some obtainable, realistic goals. We aren't jumping into anything, we aren't being stupid. We aren't setting ourselves up for failure. Instead we are setting ourselves up for happiness, and success. We are realizing that we aren't getting any younger, and that each day is a gift and that we need put ourselves first for once.
So after days of hard conversations, after a week of accomplishments, I was feeling pretty damn good.
And Friday morning I get a text message from Steven while driving my kids to the dentist. It told me that he had sex with his wife last night.
I damn near lost it. Here I am, driving kids, on the freeway, going 80 MPH, and I start crying. I want to throw my phone in the river. I want to scream.
Here I am, working towards moving FORWARD, and he is FUCKING HER?
And it isn't that he had sex with her, it was that he had told me something, and did something completely different. And while I won't get into the details, I was not okay. I have said over and over to Steven that I AM DOING THIS RIGHT THIS TIME. No lies. No deception.
What evolved from this bloody text message was a day and a half of misery. Tears. Conversations. Heated text messaging wars. Silent treatments. Mean words flung around. I was done. I really was. I decided that I couldn't do this. That I couldn't handle the stress. The pain. That I would rather lose him than share him. That the thought of him with HER made me violently nauseous. I could NOT DO THIS.
So I told him so. It was D.O.N.E. done. If we both became untangled from our existing situations, great. I could do this. However, I had hit a wall. I couldn't share him. I couldn't do this. I love him too much, want him too bad, am too selfish.
I knew that I hurt him. I didn't care. He had hurt me. He had said one thing to me, and did something completely different. I can't stop him from having sex to the one that he is legally bound to. The one that he shares a bed with. HOWEVER, don't DO THIS TO ME! Don't TEXT ME about having sex with her when you KNOW that I have been working towards US and OUR FUTURE all week.
I agreed to meet him last night. And I had no intention of anything other than getting a drink and dinner, and talking. Figuring out how to move forward from this. Closure. I was seriously walking away. I didn't even shave *down there* all that perfect because I WAS NOT GOING TO DO ANYTHING WITH HIM.
We were immediately fighting. We met at a grocery store parking lot, where we were just attacking each other for lame things. It was so so stupid. We were both emotionally raw, on the verge of tears, and we got in my van and Steve drove to "our lake", which, by the way was DRIED UP due to how hot and dry it has been.
We were sitting next to each other, it was hot, dry, dusty, there were people around, planes overhead, a train in the distance. Steve leans over and kisses me. And kisses me. And kisses me. And I kissed back. My hand on the back of his neck felt his warm skin, and it was if I was floating. IT WAS OK. I WAS GOING TO BE OK. WE WERE GOING TO BE OKAY. His hand wandered up my skirt...just enough for me to know that he needed to feel me. That I needed to feel him.
I knew in that moment that I needed to suck it up. Deal. I needed to hold his hand and support him through what he chooses to do. And I need the same from him. He knows the real Missy. He knows all that there is to know about me. He loves me completely. Unconditionally. We need each other. We deserve each other...good and bad. When I am a brat, he is a brat back and we deserve to be with people that can dish out exactly what the are given. We need to be with people that meet us in the middle. We need to be with people that will ALWAYS say yes to sex, will always kiss back, will always hunger for the other no matter how bad it gets.
We had a wonderful evening sprinkled with sex, drinks, food, and adventures. Add a dash of residual anger and frustration and you have a really white trash parking lot scene in front of the Swinger's Club. The details of the sex, and maybe the white trash parking lot scene will follow in another post.
The bottom line is this. I AM SO THANKFUL TO HAVE FOUND SOMEONE LIKE STEVEN. He doesn't give up. He is more stubborn than I am, and I didn't know that was possible. He puts me in my place. He can kiss it and make it all better.
I will never like the idea of him having sex with HER, as he will never like the idea of me having sex with HIM. My mantra is THIS IS TEMPORARY THIS IS TEMPORARY THIS IS TEMPORARY because it is just that. TEMPORARY.
When the time is right, we will be untangled. We will be together. There is NO DOUBT in our minds that this is true.
Sex with spouses is going to happen. It hurts. It is hard. Conflicting. Confusing. So, I am going to choose to look at the big picture. I have nothing to be jealous of. NOTHING. I know where we stand, where we are headed.
And where we are headed is to a place where it ALWAYS feels as good as that kiss did last night. A place where things are sunny, and pretty, and sparkly, and warm, and fuzzy.
Like home.
I used to be okay with the thought of Steven sleeping with his wife. It happens so infrequently. I am confident in myself, and in our relationship. I don't feel threatened. I don't feel like it is a competition. There is one thing, one BIG THING though that she has, and I don't.
She is MARRIED to him.
We have had our share of disputes regarding ME having sex with my husband. I understand each and every one of the issues. My husband has gotten sex with me when he pleases, regardless of what is going on, how I feel, etc. It is rarely good sex. It rarely lasts more than 10 minutes. It is a struggle for him to maintain an erection sometimes, and other times he is battling premature ejaculation. I know that Steven thinks that I am too accommodating. He thinks that my husband doesn't appreciate what he has. There are many more issues, and all of them make sense.
I have had a nonchalant attitude about Steven's sex life with is wife. I haven't cared too much. There are days that I don't want to hear about it, but overall I haven't cared.
This past week has been a week for laying ground work. I have had conversations with my mother, sister, and a friend regarding my marriage. I have insinuated to them that things aren't okay. That I am not happy. Most importantly, I have had a good conversation with my husband. A conversation that was along the lines of the fact that we are both unhappy, that we both deserve to be happy, and that we need to work together to be the best parents possible to our children while sorting things out and moving our own directions. And later that night when I saw him looking through picture albums, it was like a knife to my heart. Strangely, he looked peaceful. Accepting. Okay. However, he knows. I know. We have both known. We don't have a "marriage". We have a good partnership. A good arrangement. And we both should have so much more.
And I was feeling AMAZING. As if I could see this happening. As if I was finally headed in the right direction. And Steven and I were on the same page. We have set some obtainable, realistic goals. We aren't jumping into anything, we aren't being stupid. We aren't setting ourselves up for failure. Instead we are setting ourselves up for happiness, and success. We are realizing that we aren't getting any younger, and that each day is a gift and that we need put ourselves first for once.
So after days of hard conversations, after a week of accomplishments, I was feeling pretty damn good.
And Friday morning I get a text message from Steven while driving my kids to the dentist. It told me that he had sex with his wife last night.
I damn near lost it. Here I am, driving kids, on the freeway, going 80 MPH, and I start crying. I want to throw my phone in the river. I want to scream.
Here I am, working towards moving FORWARD, and he is FUCKING HER?
And it isn't that he had sex with her, it was that he had told me something, and did something completely different. And while I won't get into the details, I was not okay. I have said over and over to Steven that I AM DOING THIS RIGHT THIS TIME. No lies. No deception.
What evolved from this bloody text message was a day and a half of misery. Tears. Conversations. Heated text messaging wars. Silent treatments. Mean words flung around. I was done. I really was. I decided that I couldn't do this. That I couldn't handle the stress. The pain. That I would rather lose him than share him. That the thought of him with HER made me violently nauseous. I could NOT DO THIS.
So I told him so. It was D.O.N.E. done. If we both became untangled from our existing situations, great. I could do this. However, I had hit a wall. I couldn't share him. I couldn't do this. I love him too much, want him too bad, am too selfish.
I knew that I hurt him. I didn't care. He had hurt me. He had said one thing to me, and did something completely different. I can't stop him from having sex to the one that he is legally bound to. The one that he shares a bed with. HOWEVER, don't DO THIS TO ME! Don't TEXT ME about having sex with her when you KNOW that I have been working towards US and OUR FUTURE all week.
I agreed to meet him last night. And I had no intention of anything other than getting a drink and dinner, and talking. Figuring out how to move forward from this. Closure. I was seriously walking away. I didn't even shave *down there* all that perfect because I WAS NOT GOING TO DO ANYTHING WITH HIM.
We were immediately fighting. We met at a grocery store parking lot, where we were just attacking each other for lame things. It was so so stupid. We were both emotionally raw, on the verge of tears, and we got in my van and Steve drove to "our lake", which, by the way was DRIED UP due to how hot and dry it has been.
We were sitting next to each other, it was hot, dry, dusty, there were people around, planes overhead, a train in the distance. Steve leans over and kisses me. And kisses me. And kisses me. And I kissed back. My hand on the back of his neck felt his warm skin, and it was if I was floating. IT WAS OK. I WAS GOING TO BE OK. WE WERE GOING TO BE OKAY. His hand wandered up my skirt...just enough for me to know that he needed to feel me. That I needed to feel him.
I knew in that moment that I needed to suck it up. Deal. I needed to hold his hand and support him through what he chooses to do. And I need the same from him. He knows the real Missy. He knows all that there is to know about me. He loves me completely. Unconditionally. We need each other. We deserve each other...good and bad. When I am a brat, he is a brat back and we deserve to be with people that can dish out exactly what the are given. We need to be with people that meet us in the middle. We need to be with people that will ALWAYS say yes to sex, will always kiss back, will always hunger for the other no matter how bad it gets.
We had a wonderful evening sprinkled with sex, drinks, food, and adventures. Add a dash of residual anger and frustration and you have a really white trash parking lot scene in front of the Swinger's Club. The details of the sex, and maybe the white trash parking lot scene will follow in another post.
The bottom line is this. I AM SO THANKFUL TO HAVE FOUND SOMEONE LIKE STEVEN. He doesn't give up. He is more stubborn than I am, and I didn't know that was possible. He puts me in my place. He can kiss it and make it all better.
I will never like the idea of him having sex with HER, as he will never like the idea of me having sex with HIM. My mantra is THIS IS TEMPORARY THIS IS TEMPORARY THIS IS TEMPORARY because it is just that. TEMPORARY.
When the time is right, we will be untangled. We will be together. There is NO DOUBT in our minds that this is true.
Sex with spouses is going to happen. It hurts. It is hard. Conflicting. Confusing. So, I am going to choose to look at the big picture. I have nothing to be jealous of. NOTHING. I know where we stand, where we are headed.
And where we are headed is to a place where it ALWAYS feels as good as that kiss did last night. A place where things are sunny, and pretty, and sparkly, and warm, and fuzzy.
Like home.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
MARRIED...NOW WHAT?
This blog is my story...my truth...the real truth that is known by one person, and one person alone.
His name is Steve.
In order to get to where I am today, and to get to Steve, it is imperative to lay out some history.
I am 30, married, and have two children. I have been married over 11 years, and was 3 months pregnant with my oldest on my wedding day.
My children are my biggest accomplishment, they bring me joy that words can not describe.
However, I am not leading the life I had fantasized about as a little girl. In my daydreams, I was never sitting on a bathroom floor sobbing over a pregnancy test at the age of 18, almost 19. I was never planning a wedding that was the "right thing to do" because I was pregnant. I was never doing a lot of things that I have done.
Yes, I had been engaged. My husband proposed to me on my 18th birthday, and it was almost a year later that I became pregnant. It wasn't like we hadn't been together for awhile, it wasn't like there wasn't a level of commitment. After mustering up the courage to tell my mother that I was pregnant, she immediately, without really asking how I felt, planned a wedding. At one point I tried objecting, in a passive, last ditch effort to halt the preparations. I was met with a hard glance, and told "You have been engaged. So what if this is sooner than you would like? You shouldn't have gotten pregnant then."
End of discussion.
One could argue that I was an adult, that I could have NOT DONE IT. Yet, I believed that my younger than young acting fiance and I could do this. That he would mature. Grow up. That I would be fine. That a baby is a blessing, and would be the glue that held us together. And for some reason, disappointing my mother didn't seem to be an option. I still feel that way today.
I will NEVER forget the day that my mother's husband, a PASTOR, looked at me and said "I bet this marriage doesn't last more than 5 years...you are both so young." There is nothing like a challenge to make me feisty, and I I didn't respond to his comment, yet thought to myself "WATCH ME." I have stubbornly clung to the satisfaction that I proved him wrong, yet, I didn't. I really didn't. On the outside, yes, I passed that 5 year mark, and then passed it again. On the inside though...that is a different story.
The wedding planning is a blur, I really didn't do much. I answered questions, approved a few things, and meanwhile grasped the fact that this was my life...all while throwing up constantly with morning sickness. The word MORNING is such a lie when it comes to morning sickness.
Wedding dress shopping was the WORST. The absolute worst. My paternal grandma, my mom, and sister and I all trekked around looking at dresses. My mom was being cheap about the whole matter, I didn't have anything to contribute. I had been living on my own for almost a year, had been working full time, but it wasn't like I had much left over after rent and a car payment. My grandma and I had rebuilt our relationship only two years prior after 8 years of her not wanting anything to do with my sisters and myself because our mother who had left her son. It didn't matter that he beat her, didn't matter that he is CRAZY, she was mad at our mother and that was that.
Grandma and I today have a great relationship, but back then we were still essentially getting to know each other. And when I overheard her tell my mom that "A GIRL IN MY CONDITION SHOULD NOT WEAR WHITE ON HER WEDDING DAY", I easily could have smothered her in taffeta, lace, and silk that was plentiful at the bridal store.
The whole thing was so fucking unfair. I looked around this large bridal store at these girls, and their mothers who were TICKLED to be there. Taking pictures, scrutinizing every detail of the dresses. THOSE MOMS weren't asking for the clearance section, or saying loudly "who needs it altered, I can just cut off the bottom layer and hem it myself." THOSE MOMS were relaxed, not rushed, excited. THOSE MOMS were creating a moment, a special memory.
I couldn't stand it. So when I found a dress that was something I could live with, it was in the price range that mom had in mind, and it fit then and would fit in a month if I had started showing a little, I settled. I have NEVER wanted to get out of a store so fast in my life.
The day of my wedding was nothing too special. I remember being annoyed with how often I had to pee, because doing it in a wedding dress REQUIRES HELP. I just went through the motions. My flowers were the wrong color, I spoke up, and was hushed because it was too late to do anything about it.
The music was wonderful, there were more people there than I could have imagined. People that didn't care for members of my family were there because of ME. That felt good. There were parts of the service that to this day raise my blood pressure, and parts that still warm my heart. It is what it is, and it wasn't what I had ever imagined.
The reception was beyond lame, and when it was time to go I was so relieved. We headed out to a hotel room that my husband's parents had paid for, and there we were. That was it. Obligatory just married sex occurred, nothing mind blowing though. We headed out the next day to the coast, where we spent a week at a house in the dead of winter, with not a whole heck of a lot to do. We enjoyed each other's company, talked about our future. Imagined our baby. We did little day trips around where we were staying, played board games, cooked, rested, and just relaxed.
It felt okay then. I could see this being okay. So what that my wedding wasn't what I had wanted. It is just a ceremony, right? Just a formality. It had nothing to do with what our marriage would be, nothing to do with US.
The next two years were a blur. Job changes, moving into a rental house, and then buying our first home when I was 20. Being parents to a beautiful baby boy. My husband is a hard worker, and that was great. I worried about child care, my part time job, bills, housework, basically everything, yet he worked hard for our little family.
Things gradually shifted though. He was ridiculously irresponsible, and that was a huge strain on our marriage. Bank cards were left in cash machines (we are talking about 5 times, not 1), calling cards in pay phones, I could go on and on. It was always SOMETHING. Our sex life sucked. When we were dating it was good, it was even good while I was pregnant...until I was put on bed rest. Now, I am not saying it was MIND BLOWING, but acceptable. And to me at the time, it was great. I knew nothing better.
After our son was born, I worked hard to get to my pre-pregnancy weight, and did so rather fast. Mind you I wasn't thin, I have definitely been curvy since high school, but I was at a good point after the baby.
He didn't care. It didn't matter. I introduced some things back into our bedroom that we had dabbled with in high school...a bit of porn, a few toys. It never seemed to be enough. I worked hard outside of the bedroom thinking that would help. I would make his lunches, make sure that he came home to a sparkly clean house, with a happy adorable baby, and a dolled up wife. Never without makeup, never in sweats. He was never unappreciative, but if felt like living with a friend. The spark was not there.
I remember clearly an afternoon in when we were nearing our 2nd wedding anniversary. I had the baby napping, and put on something crazy sexy. Not lingerie, but not something you would wear in public either. He walked into our room, looked at me, and announced that he wanted to go to work early. And left.
I sat there and cried, in my scandalous outfit. I knew at that very moment that things were not okay. That he was a wonderful dad, a good provider, a good friend, but we were clearly on different pages when it came to sex.
It came as no surprise that a few months later I found myself in a situation I had NEVER, EVER thought I would be in.
An affair.
To be continued...
His name is Steve.
In order to get to where I am today, and to get to Steve, it is imperative to lay out some history.
I am 30, married, and have two children. I have been married over 11 years, and was 3 months pregnant with my oldest on my wedding day.
My children are my biggest accomplishment, they bring me joy that words can not describe.
However, I am not leading the life I had fantasized about as a little girl. In my daydreams, I was never sitting on a bathroom floor sobbing over a pregnancy test at the age of 18, almost 19. I was never planning a wedding that was the "right thing to do" because I was pregnant. I was never doing a lot of things that I have done.
Yes, I had been engaged. My husband proposed to me on my 18th birthday, and it was almost a year later that I became pregnant. It wasn't like we hadn't been together for awhile, it wasn't like there wasn't a level of commitment. After mustering up the courage to tell my mother that I was pregnant, she immediately, without really asking how I felt, planned a wedding. At one point I tried objecting, in a passive, last ditch effort to halt the preparations. I was met with a hard glance, and told "You have been engaged. So what if this is sooner than you would like? You shouldn't have gotten pregnant then."
End of discussion.
One could argue that I was an adult, that I could have NOT DONE IT. Yet, I believed that my younger than young acting fiance and I could do this. That he would mature. Grow up. That I would be fine. That a baby is a blessing, and would be the glue that held us together. And for some reason, disappointing my mother didn't seem to be an option. I still feel that way today.
I will NEVER forget the day that my mother's husband, a PASTOR, looked at me and said "I bet this marriage doesn't last more than 5 years...you are both so young." There is nothing like a challenge to make me feisty, and I I didn't respond to his comment, yet thought to myself "WATCH ME." I have stubbornly clung to the satisfaction that I proved him wrong, yet, I didn't. I really didn't. On the outside, yes, I passed that 5 year mark, and then passed it again. On the inside though...that is a different story.
The wedding planning is a blur, I really didn't do much. I answered questions, approved a few things, and meanwhile grasped the fact that this was my life...all while throwing up constantly with morning sickness. The word MORNING is such a lie when it comes to morning sickness.
Wedding dress shopping was the WORST. The absolute worst. My paternal grandma, my mom, and sister and I all trekked around looking at dresses. My mom was being cheap about the whole matter, I didn't have anything to contribute. I had been living on my own for almost a year, had been working full time, but it wasn't like I had much left over after rent and a car payment. My grandma and I had rebuilt our relationship only two years prior after 8 years of her not wanting anything to do with my sisters and myself because our mother who had left her son. It didn't matter that he beat her, didn't matter that he is CRAZY, she was mad at our mother and that was that.
Grandma and I today have a great relationship, but back then we were still essentially getting to know each other. And when I overheard her tell my mom that "A GIRL IN MY CONDITION SHOULD NOT WEAR WHITE ON HER WEDDING DAY", I easily could have smothered her in taffeta, lace, and silk that was plentiful at the bridal store.
The whole thing was so fucking unfair. I looked around this large bridal store at these girls, and their mothers who were TICKLED to be there. Taking pictures, scrutinizing every detail of the dresses. THOSE MOMS weren't asking for the clearance section, or saying loudly "who needs it altered, I can just cut off the bottom layer and hem it myself." THOSE MOMS were relaxed, not rushed, excited. THOSE MOMS were creating a moment, a special memory.
I couldn't stand it. So when I found a dress that was something I could live with, it was in the price range that mom had in mind, and it fit then and would fit in a month if I had started showing a little, I settled. I have NEVER wanted to get out of a store so fast in my life.
The day of my wedding was nothing too special. I remember being annoyed with how often I had to pee, because doing it in a wedding dress REQUIRES HELP. I just went through the motions. My flowers were the wrong color, I spoke up, and was hushed because it was too late to do anything about it.
The music was wonderful, there were more people there than I could have imagined. People that didn't care for members of my family were there because of ME. That felt good. There were parts of the service that to this day raise my blood pressure, and parts that still warm my heart. It is what it is, and it wasn't what I had ever imagined.
The reception was beyond lame, and when it was time to go I was so relieved. We headed out to a hotel room that my husband's parents had paid for, and there we were. That was it. Obligatory just married sex occurred, nothing mind blowing though. We headed out the next day to the coast, where we spent a week at a house in the dead of winter, with not a whole heck of a lot to do. We enjoyed each other's company, talked about our future. Imagined our baby. We did little day trips around where we were staying, played board games, cooked, rested, and just relaxed.
It felt okay then. I could see this being okay. So what that my wedding wasn't what I had wanted. It is just a ceremony, right? Just a formality. It had nothing to do with what our marriage would be, nothing to do with US.
The next two years were a blur. Job changes, moving into a rental house, and then buying our first home when I was 20. Being parents to a beautiful baby boy. My husband is a hard worker, and that was great. I worried about child care, my part time job, bills, housework, basically everything, yet he worked hard for our little family.
Things gradually shifted though. He was ridiculously irresponsible, and that was a huge strain on our marriage. Bank cards were left in cash machines (we are talking about 5 times, not 1), calling cards in pay phones, I could go on and on. It was always SOMETHING. Our sex life sucked. When we were dating it was good, it was even good while I was pregnant...until I was put on bed rest. Now, I am not saying it was MIND BLOWING, but acceptable. And to me at the time, it was great. I knew nothing better.
After our son was born, I worked hard to get to my pre-pregnancy weight, and did so rather fast. Mind you I wasn't thin, I have definitely been curvy since high school, but I was at a good point after the baby.
He didn't care. It didn't matter. I introduced some things back into our bedroom that we had dabbled with in high school...a bit of porn, a few toys. It never seemed to be enough. I worked hard outside of the bedroom thinking that would help. I would make his lunches, make sure that he came home to a sparkly clean house, with a happy adorable baby, and a dolled up wife. Never without makeup, never in sweats. He was never unappreciative, but if felt like living with a friend. The spark was not there.
I remember clearly an afternoon in when we were nearing our 2nd wedding anniversary. I had the baby napping, and put on something crazy sexy. Not lingerie, but not something you would wear in public either. He walked into our room, looked at me, and announced that he wanted to go to work early. And left.
I sat there and cried, in my scandalous outfit. I knew at that very moment that things were not okay. That he was a wonderful dad, a good provider, a good friend, but we were clearly on different pages when it came to sex.
It came as no surprise that a few months later I found myself in a situation I had NEVER, EVER thought I would be in.
An affair.
To be continued...
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