Being in a seven year affair is hard.
It’s even harder when you’re far away from each other.
But, I’d have to say it’s hardest when your lover is a manwhore.
A smooth talking manwhore at that.
For three days in a row, I locked the door after work and turned off the lights and smoked weed. If anyone would have broken in, they would have found me at my most vulnerable…head hanging, tears dripping down my face, sitting fully clothed on the toilet listening to Nirvana by candlelight.
I gave myself permission to hurt and cry and grieve. Alone. In that bathroom full of smoke with my heart pounding in grief. I wasn’t grieving cuz he stuck his dick in someone else. I was grieving because I thought my love could change him.
I can’t tell anyone what I feel like, because nobody cares about the faceless person I have been sleeping with behind my husband’s back for the past seven years. Ain’t
nobody got time for that.
I can’t tell anyone how he was the first man I ever really loved. I can’t tell anyone that he touched me and spoke to me in a way that forged the first true intimate relationship I’d ever had with a man.
I was a good housewife and 40 years old before I ever knew what it felt like to be loved and touched and spoken to like a woman. My husband was, and still is, inadequate at expressing love, affection and sexuality.
I accept the fact that I had a part in why my lover may have cheated on me. It’s not an excuse, but I had been giving him less and less attention, partly because he was giving ME less and less attention, and partly because of what he told me one day late last summer.
For years he had been claiming he had a sexless marriage, and I believed him then and still do now.
For years he had told me that he would not sleep with his wife because it would give her false hope that he was in the marriage for life.
Well, he let it slip one night in conversation that while vacationing, she had straddled him in a lawn chair and was about to ride his erect penis when the damn chair BROKE under the weight of two adult bodies.
No matter WHAT he said, he was horny and ready to fuck her at the mere HINT of suggestion, and most certainly at a full blown, all out STRADDLE.
I knew then that he loved her and that he was not going to ever leave her.
It hurt that he got erect for her after all she has done to emotionally and physically PUNISH HIM. He still wanted her, and he always will. He just farmed the sex out to me and who KNOWS who esle. All along she was his true princess, and I thought I at least had a secure place as the “other woman.” Especially when he refused to give up on me, and as I pulled away he tried even harder to convince me I was special
.
WHY?!
I was STUPID enough to believe he wanted to be with me some day in the future. I knew that night that there WAS no future, and there never would be and that I had better begin to let go of this man or DIE trying to win his full time love.
But I still could not cheat on him sexually, no matter what opportunity presented itself. Why, you ask? Because I wanted to be faithful to him, to prove that I was worthy of a wonderful man like him. To cheat on him seemed like cheating on my daddy, only worse.
I’m not sexual with my father.
But, I revere and respect him and I felt that way about my fox, too.
I had him on a pedestal, and I felt so intimately tied to him and owned by him that it seemed and felt unnatural when another man kissed me or held me while dancing close.
Now, here I sit. My heart is on the floor, strewn about like the bloody afterbirth of a difficult labor.
What a fool believes.
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