AN ANNIVERSARY TO FORGET

Oh, the joys of wedded bliss.  So much in love...and they lived happily ever after...blah blah blah. Yeah right.

Yesterday was our 11th wedding anniversary.  It was a big deal...but only to Derek. He seemed to be the only one excited about it.  I was apprehensive about the day, and Philip was indifferent.  Derek made us a card filled with crayon drawings and misspelled words--I will treasure it forever.  It was the only good thing that happened all day.

As for the actual day, all I can say is that I tried. I had dinner ready for him when he and Derek got home from an outing--Roast Beef, mashed potatoes, etc.--everything that Philip liked.  I tried to make the rest of the day special, since they were gone for most of it, but he was not in the mood to act like the happily married couple.  Eventually, I felt the same way.

I tried to be patient when he told me that he was not hungry, still recovering from the large Thanksgiving meal the day before.  Beside, they grabbed some "take out" on the road.  Derek and he planned to head directly towards the living room to watch a college football game.

Philip has not tried at all in these past two weeks.  I don't know what I expected, considering the circumstances of our near split.  He actually volunteered to go into work on the day after Thanksgiving, when others have off, until Derek begged him to stay home and take him somewhere.  I guess that he thought that it would been too hard to spend four full days in a row with me without the cushion of a work day.  Forty eight hours on the weekend is long enough.  Ninety-six?  Well, I guess that it was an impossibility.

I know..."Give him time".  I am trying to do just that.   You don't have to remind me that it's my fault that my marriage is down the toilet.  However, he could try to make it easier for both of us.  We could be like before--platonic roommates living in the same house, but trying, at least, to be civil to one another.  Right now, climbing that mountain seems to be insurmountable.

FYI, I am not sulking.

MUCH TO BE THANKFUL FOR

I spent this Thanksgiving at my parent's house.  Spent most of the day in the kitchen with my mom, sister and sister-in-law as "the men", including my younger brother,  hung out in the living room watching football.  I basically stayed away from Philip as much as possible.  I was better off.

Once we were seated at the dining room table, my brother and his wife had a big announcement.  My sister-in-law is pregnant with her first child, and is 3 months along.  If all goes well, she will probably have the baby in May. This news hit me in between the eyes, because my child would have been due at the same time, but I did not let it affect my mood.  I took a deep breath, smiled my biggest smile, and then hugged my excited relatives.  My sulking would have to wait.

You know, I like the look of this table

As I hugged them, Philip curiously gave me the usual look (the "everyone can get pregnant except you" look).  I thought that it was a little weird, since we have not been intimate for at last six months, and probably never will again.  So why was he giving me "the look" that always made me feel inferior (and still does, as a matter of fact)?  Maybe it was just habit--another way to make me feel like crap.  He doesn't even know about my latest tragedy.  Would he have been more sympathetic if he knew?  Who knows.  Anyway, I don't know why I brought it up.  I've let it go, like everything else in these past few weeks.   

That news aside, it was a great day in the comfort of my family.  Philip and I play-acted as if nothing was wrong--played our parts well.  We had never been overly affectionate to each other in the past, so all we had to do was to pretend that we still could stand to be in the same room together.   

Life is not perfect, but it was never entirely perfect.      I can't imagine what we would have done if we had split up before this holiday.  I am happy and thankful enough that my family is still together.

IT WAS ON THE TIP OF MY TONGUE!

Last night I went for a long needed night out with the girls. It was a Friday, and we haven't been getting together to play tennis, and we needed an excuse to go out.  

I had a few drinks, and my tongue became a little loose, but I didn't let the secret out.  It was right there, ready to fly out, but I kept it in his cage.  That was the agreement that I had with P, and I kept my promise.  But, God how I wish that I could tell someone (besides the priest).  Maybe one day, I will spill my guts to my friends, and let the  chips fall.  That should be an interesting conversation--to say the least.  They will either console me, or will be shocked beyond belief.

Getting back to last night, I had a great time.  We went to a nice local Italian restaurant.  The atmosphere was perfect.  There was no Roberta, no young guys hanging out at the bar, and no T with a date to muddle my mind.  It was just me, Chloe and Theresa--eating food, drinking wine and laughing.  All this, and I was hangover free this morning.  Thank God for small miracles.

I missed the laughing.  There has not been enough to laugh about lately, but I am not going to dwell on it, as promised.  I am keeping myself busy, preparing for Thanksgiving.  I've been watching the Food network lately, which is always fun this time of year.  Even though I am going to my parents house for Thanksgiving, I am still going to make a turkey over the weekend--for leftovers, etc.  I know that Derek loves turkey, and whatever comes with it (as does Philip), and I want to make him happy.  If it pleases P, well...THAT would be a miracle.

Speaking of this time of year.  It just so happens that our 11th wedding anniversary is coming up.  Should be interesting.  Eleven years ago, on November 25th, 2000, we married on the weekend after Thanksgiving (to make it easier for his family, who were coming in for the holiday).  It was cold and windy that day.  A sign, perhaps?  Probably, but I didn't see it.  Funny thing, I was checking my other blog and I noticed that I didn't post anything about our 10th anniversary last year.  It was supposed to be such a big occasion, and I don't remember what we did.  Maybe that was a sign of things to come.  Who knows?

So anyway, did I pass the non-pathetic, non-whiny test?  Yes, I still think about T and wonder what he's doing, and I probably always will.  But instead of listening to depressing music, I switched to Christmas CDs.  It's a step up.  You all should be proud of me.

SNAPPING OUT OF IT

I'm fine.  Thank you so much for your support.  

Sorry about that last post.  I even depressed myself when I read it, and I can only imagine what anyone else thought.  I almost deleted it because it was so...damned...pitiful.  But, it was about what's going on, so I kept it.  Maybe it was because of the rain, or the fact that it was a dreaded Wednesday where memories flood back into my head like a tsunami.  I guess that I should not blog when I'm having a bad day. 

I've come to realize (at last)  that I have become a bloggy bummer.  I'm going to change that.   I'm determined to snap out of it.  As for this blog, there will be no more self-absorbed,  melancholic and downright pitiful posts.  I'm sure that everyone (including me) is sick of reading them, and I don't mean to bum anyone out.    I'm just venting, and you've been my ventee (is that a word?).

My life now is what I chose, and even though it is not perfect, I have to live with it.  I'm making a promise to myself to stop whining like a five year old.   Time to pick myself off the ground, dust the dirt off of my clothes and get on with it.  Get back to my, as Mark once told me,  "Soap opera and Oprah watching, bored housewife" life.  Did he really say that?  Yes he did.  It was back in June at the restaurant, when I still hated him.  Didn't post that little detail at the time, but it was one of the reasons that I doused him with iced tea--among others.  He had this gift of saying whatever was on his mind, and at that time, I did not appreciate it.

Life was so much simpler then. I knew what the ground rules were.  I've got to get back to that.   Unfortunately, my posts will become boring, but so will my life.  Life in the fast lane was definitely more exciting, but I don't think that it was worth it. 

Maybe I should find a hobby.  Thanksgiving is coming, and I have much to be thankful for.  I am a lucky woman, considering all that I've been through.  I'm going to bury myself in holiday cheer (not the liquid kid, if you're wondering), busy myself with Christmas shopping, baking, etc.  Help out with school parties and events.  I'll be all right.  From now on, it's time to grow up, accept the facts of my life, and make the best out of it.  I am a strong woman...after all--or I will be.  Like the song says, "I will survive!"

EVERYTHING I SEE

This morning, I saw Doug, the "creepy guy" at the grocery store.  Well, I never called him the "creepy guy" before T gave him that tag.  I always thought that he was just a nice guy who always helped me load groceries into my car.  That was until he made me uncomfortable one day, and T was there to diffuse the situation.  About a month later, T told me that the guy was leering at, and talking directly to, my breasts.  Now I call Doug the "creepy guy".  Problem is, that I have no-one to talk to about him.

Such is life these days.  I see the creepy guy, and I think of T.  There are so many things that remind me of him.  When I pass a black SUV, I think of him.  When I see a Harley Davidson, ditto.  Many of the thoughts come out of nowhere, some that shouldn't remind me of him at all...like going to church.  You know how it is..."lead us not into temptation"?  When I think of the word "temptation", I think of him.  His picture might as well be next to the definition of the word.   T might not be around, but it hasn't stopped me from thinking about him.  One of these days, I'll be able to finish a sentence without saying to myself..."and then I thought about T".

Speaking of church.  I went to confession.   Bless me father, for I have sinned...confessed everything...affair, pregnancy...constant impure thoughts that won't stop, etc.  Not at our local Catholic church, mind you, because I didn't want to face Father Hanley.  I went a few towns over to a priest who has never seen or heard of me.  He said that I made the right decision to try to repair my marriage, and should go with Philip to marriage counseling.  Well...yeah...that's a great idea.  I would be more than happy to go to counseling.  Unfortunately, that would not fit into Philip's schedule--ever!

As for Philip, he is not making life easy.   He knows that a choice had to be made between him and T, and I chose him (well...technically, I chose Derek).  T and I are miserable, and that must make him very happy. For example, he saw me staring into space the other day and he snickered, reminding me that I should not worry about "my lover" moving on.  T could just open up his little black book and start with the A's.  It was so nice of him to point that out.  

T can move on, and I truly hope that he does.  Really...I do  (I think).  As for me, I seem to be stuck in a time warp--wishing that it was September again.  I'll even take August--before the affair,  when we were just friends.  I'll even take June, when I hated his guts--anything!  After a week, I just want to see him, talk to him or be near him.  There is this hole in my life that only he can fill.

This is so much harder than I thought it would be.  I find myself listening to Bread, and Barry Manilow songs, and there are no happy ones.  That's not a good thing.  I can only hope that eventually I will be able to wake up in the morning without wishing that I was still in bed.

MY ROOMMATE HATES MY GUTS

I guess that I can't blame him for feeling this way.  

I know it.  I see the frown that appears on his face whenever I walk into a room.  I can tell it when he looks at me.  The contempt is hard to hide.   Before the affair, I used to think that he didn't love me anymore.  He was bored with me, or didn't desire me anymore.  But now, after the smoke has cleared from my indiscretion,  I know for sure that my roommate hates my guts.

Sure, I know that I'm talking about the man who is my husband, but can I really call him that?  We no longer act like a married couple unless we are putting on an Oscar winning performance for our family and friends.  Derek doesn't seem to pick up the fact that we are married "in name only", and that's a good thing, but how long can we keep this up?  Will this get any better, or are we doomed?

Dear Wayward Wife, I hate you! Sincerely, Your Pissed Off Husband.

Today included a flawless performance to submit to the Academy.  We were at a picnic for the end of the soccer league season.  I was working diligently with other mothers, setting up and serving the food.   Meanwhile, Philip chatted with other people that we knew, including Roberta.  As I watched him, he glanced in my direction as if to say, "what the hell are you looking at?".  I felt a chill go up my spine.  I could feel it.  He hates me.  But, nobody else can tell.  As far as everyone else was concerned, we are still the perfect family that we always were.

There was a coaches vs referees game, and at the end of it, trophies were handed out to all the kids who participated in the league.  Derek has another trophy for the shelf, and the three of us took a picture together with a proud Derek in the middle.  When I look at it, I could see the smiles that we faked, and the fact that we tried to be as far away from each other as possible, while both touching the person who is the only reason why we are still together.

Tonight, after putting Derek to bed, we returned to our separate areas of the house.  We don't talk, we don't laugh, we don't love.  We are just roommates who can't stand each other.  Tomorrow, we will do the same thing at church.  Act like a happy family until there in no one left in the audience.

The perfect family.   What a beautiful façade.  What an incredible crock.

IT'S REALLY OVER

I had one night left with T...one night with the man that I love.  I wanted to make the best of our last night together.  Seemed like a very tall order, and I was extremely apprehensive.  I did not know how he would react, since right before the doorbell rang I was in his arms.  Now I was about to tell him that I could never see him again.  I wouldn't have blamed him if he threw me out of the house.

He did not reject me.  He knew what I was going to say, but asked that I not say it--not yet, anyway, since it was our last night together.  We did not waste our last Wednesday.

In the morning, he told me that he would be gone by the end of the day.   Once he left, he would not be coming back. He had packed enough for a week, and then his things would be picked up later--furniture, etc.    Some boxes in the basement had yet to be emptied since he moved next door.  Guess he doesn't have to empty them now.   He hired someone to do the rest of the move for him. Everything was arranged, just waiting for the final word.

He asked me about the terms of the arrangement, and I could have lied and told him that P wanted to reconcile completely, but I didn't want our last words to be lies.  I told him the truth.   The truth didn't make him happy, as he did not like what the future held for me.   Then he surprised me.  For the first and only time, he asked me to reconsider my decision to go back to P--told me that I should stay with him. People get divorced all the time, and we could work it out--be together.   

I told him that I couldn't do that, and it broke my heart.  He didn't ask again.

Yesterday, at six on the morning, I said goodbye to T and walked out the door.  Like promised, I haven't seen him since.    His cell phone number has been changed to an unlisted number.  Yes, I've tried to call him.  I wanted to call him five minutes after I left his house, but I waited until later in the day.  You would have tried to call him too.  How he disappear so quickly?

I am not ready to say goodbye.  I'll never be ready.  I am distraught, because I can't believe that I will never see him again.  I keep staring at that empty house.  Yes, his things are still there, but he is gone.  As far as I am concerned, the house is empty.

I have to believe that I have made the right decision.  I can only hope that eventually P will let me be more than a roommate, and that we can sit in a room together without hate emanating from his direction.  It is just a fantasy at this point, because I know that he is only doing this because of our son.  At least I can be grateful for that.

A SUDDEN CHANGE OF HEART

Yesterday started like all the other days of my new existence as a soon to be ex-wife.  I woke up in the guest room at T's house, and dragged myself next door.  I passed P on the way into the house, and he didn't even look at me.  We were like two ships passing in the night (like the song says, but without the smile saying it's all right).  With a kiss, I woke Derek for school, and hugged him.  This had been my daily routine.

I stayed the day in the house,  spent the day whole wondering if P called a lawyer, and when I should call one.  I fretted about what I was going to do when the affair was made public, because we cannot hide this forever.  The nosy people will want to know why we were getting a divorce, especially our friends, relatives, and neighbors.  Roberta was going to have a field day once this secret was exposed.  This particular gossip would make her year--the fall of a "Perfect Wife".

As I wondered, I scrubbed the floors--worked my ass off.  It was the stress, I guess.  I clean so that I won't eat  (Eating used to be the thing that I did when I was stressed--don't want to pick up that habit again).  By the time Derek came home from school, I was completely out of energy.

At eight, I was pitched out again.  P didn't say the words, but he didn't have to--just gave me that special look, and I left.  He didn't want to talk, and I didn't care.  I just wanted to trudge back to T's house and collapse.  Once I was there, I was tired, cranky, and my back was aching (it already hurt in the morning because of that stupid, lousy mattress on the guest bed.  I should have asked T to replace it weeks ago, if not for me, but for when his son Alex visited from Florida).  T was not home yet because he was working on a Wednesday for a change, so I took it upon myself to stretch out on his comfortable "Sleep Number" bed.

Inevitably, he found me when he came home, and for the first time in about a month, we did not try to fight our affection for each other.  I know that I was starved for it, and considering the bleak outlook of my marriage, I decided not to fight it.  P had said repeatedly that didn't want me back.   I knew that T loved me, and I loved him, and desperately needed his attention.  I didn't want to deny it anymore.  What was the point? 

Murphy's Law (of course) came into effect as the doorbell rang, putting an end to whatever had begun, or was about to happen--I don't know what that was, because the bell rang again, and I jumped up like I was on fire.  Somehow, I knew who had interrupted my plans at nine-thirty on a Wednesday night.  I straightened myself up, and went to answer the door.

I can't imagine what I would have done if it was someone else at the door--might have called T quickly, and hid in a closet somewhere.  But P was indeed at the door.  I fully expected him to hand me divorce papers, but instead he wanted me to come next door to talk.

I followed him next door, and we sat at our kitchen table to discuss what remained of our marriage.  P said, to my surprise, that he had decided to keep the family intact--for Derek's sake.  

There were conditions, however:  

1)  He does not want me to tell anyone about the affair (not family, friends or anyone else), because he did not want Derek to find out. He wants to protect Derek, and I can't argue with that.

2) We will live in the same house together, but not be together as a couple.  He will never forget or forgive me, and does not want to go to marriage counseling.  We'll be roommates, not lovers.

3)  I can never see T again.  It's a deal breaker.

It did not take me long to agree to the terms.  This was what I wanted, wasn't it?   I should be happy.  Derek will have his parents together, and the family unit will survive. Hopefully, it will not eat itself from the inside like a cancer.

So, this was my future.  I had consented to a loveless marriage, and after Thursday morning, I would never see the man I love again.  

I just had to go back and tell T about the "good news"--on a Wednesday...

continued...IT'S REALLY OVER

BLOWING UP THE FAMILY

P has been giving me the silent treatment, and I don't know what's going to happen next.    He must be getting a sick kind of thrill out of all of this.  

Let me explain.  Yesterday,  P, Derek and I visited the house where I grew up to help celebrate my mother's birthday.  I have been on edge for a while about this, because P has not informed me of his plans regarding the divorce that he is determined to get--he just told me that he wanted one, and has not said another word about it since Saturday night.  I had tried my best to find out what he had planned before we took this one hour trip together, but I guess that he'd rather see me squirm.  

So, in other words, I didn't know if or when he was going to stand up and announce to my side of the family that I was a lying, cheating whore.  Was it going to be while my mother cut her birthday cake, or while she was opening her presents?  A usually happy occasion was miserable.  Reunion with aunts, uncles and my sister were tarnished by the fact  that at any moment, P could drop the bomb to blow up my family's happiness.   Every time he opened his mouth, I held my breath. He knew that I was afraid of what he might say, and took pleasure in the torture that it caused.  Revenge must feel so sweet.

I didn't truly know that I was in the clear until we were in the van, driving home.  I could finally breathe after such a harrowing day.  I wanted to cry, but did not want to give him that satisfaction.  The ride home was as silent as the ride there. For once, I didn't want to talk, and didn't wait for P to give me that "get lost" look once Derek fell asleep.  I just wanted to get away from him.

Once I walked into T's house, I headed straight for the kitchen--didn't even say hi to T as I passed him sitting in the living room.  I opened the fridge, stole a bottle of beer, opened it and seemed to suck it down in two seconds.  I needed it so badly, and a beer never tasted so good.

"Is there a problem?" T asked.

I rolled my eyes, sighed, and then spent the rest of the evening venting about the day.  Today, I returned to more silence, and more pretending to be the perfect wife at church, then the social afterwards.   At night, once Derek was asleep, I was kicked out again.   I don't know how much more of this I can take.

WEDNESDAY BREAKFAST WITH MY BEST FRIEND

"Get your skinny ass over here," he said, after I told him that I didn't eat breakfast yet.  

It was yesterday at nine a.m., Derek was already at school, and I had planned to spend the day cleaning, or curled up in a pathetic ball in the bedroom--didn't know which road to choose.  I knew that T was home all day, however I didn't want to "go there".  But T called to check on me, because I've been a wreck lately.  When I answered his question, he gave me no choice.  He was making breakfast, and I was going to eat it.  No arguments.  So I got my "skinny ass" over there.  

Did he really say "skinny ass"?  Go figure.  I never thought I'd ever hear those two words directed at me.  But, after four months of dieting, exercising, worrying, crying, and stress cleaning, I have lost 30 lbs.  I'm almost at my goal weight, and I didn't even realize that I was this close.  So much else has been going on.  Weight loss has been the least of my problems.

Breakfast was bacon and eggs, home fries, toast, OJ, coffee.  It was delicious, and I ate like a pig (or like I had not eaten much since Saturday night...which was true).   I didn't realize that he could cook so well, because even though I used to show up each Wednesday at nine-thirty, I never went there for breakfast.  I was usually there for...well...something else.  Anyway...

I thought that it would be awkward to be there with him on a Wednesday during the day, considering what I know, and the fact that we still love each other.  But, he made me feel at ease.  He wanted to cheer me up, and not in the usual "Wednesday" kind of way.  It was more like it used to be over the summer--easy conversation, teasing, and laughing.  God how I needed to laugh!  I missed it.

Later on, while we sat on the couch in the living room, the conversation turned to my situation.   T assured me that I shouldn't worry, and that he knows in his heart that P will take me back, and it would be sooner rather than later.  I was a bit doubtful, but he insisted that P loves Derek too much to let the family fall apart.  P just needed time, and he knew that I would not give up until my family was back on track.  When the time comes, T is ready to take himself out of the picture.  His bags are already packed.

Then, of course, I said something stupid.   I told him that it wouldn't be as easy for me to leave him (insinuating that was easy for him to pack up and leave me).  He bristled when I said that.  He said that it was incredibly hard for him to leave.  He would much rather that I picked him, instead of P, but he knew that it was not going to happen.  

So much for the easy conversation.

But the uneasiness did not last long, as he suddenly dropped the subject.  He started to talk about the weather of all things.  It was a desperate act--grasping at straws to avoid talking about the inevitable.  Ignoring the reality that even though we love each other, we are doomed to be apart.