Straight out of a storybook. An erotic storybook. He’s the vampire and I his prey turned queen. God, why can’t all men…scratch that. That would be boring. He is.... Let me catch my breath dreamy. Yes, his physique. Yes, his eyes. Yes, his demeanor. His brain. His kiss. His hands. Even his fucking job title. It’s the way he dives in to connect emotionally with me that unravels me most. He is not afraid to feel and describe it to me in great detail. He, like no one else ever, has taken the time to enjoy me, make me feel worshiped, adored. And when he pulls away, I’m equally undone.
That’s why I usually pull away first. He is usually the gentlemen and gives me the upper hand.
I’m dying. Not figuratively. I found out I have stage 4 cancer a few days ago. It’s so normal for that to scare him away. I’m scared for him. He should pull away. Or I should. We should have pulled away long ago. We’ve tried. Many times. I’m a married woman.
O.K. You can stop reading here. The rest of this entry is probably not very juicy. Just me trying to get my thoughts out.
I’m hurting tonight. It’s nothing uncommon, I suppose. David has been really open and loving with me lately. Lots of professions of passionate, unending love. I let my guard down. I got swept up in the current. I let it get too real. I let it seep out of the fantasy realm and into my heart, and, well…I guess this is what happens. I texted him a bunch yesterday while he was at work. The desperation in my voice matching texts he had sent just a day or so prior. I asked to see him. He had just asked to see me. I thought he would be thrilled. I was wrong. I pressed a little to gage his cool responses, and yes, he is feeling bad about our situation. I get it. I feel bad too. It’s just that I really believed him this time. He said he couldn’t keep away from me any longer. I understand the cycle though. Maybe it’s not worth it…
My presence, as it is right now, makes everyone’s life worse. I’m not being dramatic. I’m really depressed. I can’t even stand to be with myself. We can’t have an honest, pleasant conversation.
-Hey, how was your day?
-Miserable.
-Why?
-I was suicidal so I spent an hour on the phone with Psychiatric Institute of Washington only to find out I can’t be admitted because of blah, blah, blah
-…
That doesn’t make for a pleasant life for anyone. I don’t want him to come home after a long day of work to deal with an unstable person. That would quickly deteriorate from a relationship to a caretaker situation. No thank you.
Same goes for the cancer stuff. IF I decide to “fight” this cancer, I will very quickly become a sickly person for the rest of my life. Who wants to have sex with the living dead?
I could pretend I’m not depressed. I could pretend I’m not sick (maybe via text). But would that be fulfilling for either of us? I know the truth isn’t fulfilling right now. He’s told me it hurts him to hear about my bad moments. What are my options? Lie or disengage.
There is no future for us. There is only now. Should we seize the moment or will it disappoint and add to guilt and pain?
I could do the right thing and not cheat on my husband. Or I could live my life for me while I still can.
Or maybe it’s already too late and I should just say goodbye. He’s still chatting with me, but it feels distant. I’ve more or less been matching it. I wish I could vomit all of this and more to him, but I think it would push him away further.
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