Everything Happens for a Reason

I didn’t always believe that everything happens for a reason.  At least not a good reason.

I’m rethinking that philosophy.  I wake up every morning thanking my lucky stars and various deities that I found a man who loves me, accepts me and wants to be with me.

It could be you.  But it’s not.  And I’m glad.  Because I couldn’t have found someone more perfect for me if I had conjured him up with a magic wand.

He asked me what would happen if you decided to leave TW and wanted me back.  I told him that I choose him.  Every day.  And I plan to spend every day proving it to him — for the rest of my life, if I’m fortunate enough to have him that long.

It doesn’t mean that what I felt for you wasn’t real.  It was real for me.  I’m not so sure about you.  But it doesn’t really matter now.

I think about the way the stars had to align for he and I to meet.  I had to move to this state despite my crumbling marriage.  Have an affair with you.  Divorce my husband.  Keep seeing you despite the pitfalls of being the mistress.  Your wife had to find out — twice, apparently.  I had to realize you didn’t really want me for anything other than a piece on the side.  I had to make a conscious decision to let you go.  To truly move on.

And then I met him.  I noticed him from across the room.  We chatted.  I knew instantly that I wanted him — and that he wanted me.  That doesn’t happen very much.  He had to go away for a couple of weeks, then he drove straight to my birthday party from three states away.

We’re going there this weekend.  There’s a big party and we’re going to go.  It’s our first real trip together (not counting my business trip he accompanied me on).

I’m going to savor this for as long as I can.  Learn from my mistakes.  Love him the way he needs to be loved.  Cherish every moment.  Treat him as well as I possibly can.

Not everyone gets two chances at true love.  Love that is deep and true and amazing.

I’ve fallen.  Hard.  It’s like he tripped me and I fell flat on my face (instead of head over heels).

You told me you wanted me to be happy.  That you didn’t want me to be lonely.  That you hoped I found someone.

Your last text to me didn’t seem like you were overjoyed for me.  That’s OK.

I’ve blocked you.  Calls or texts won’t get through.  I don’t have to jump at your ringtone or text chime ever again.

I’m not generally a bridge-burner.  But I am this time.  Maybe someday, when a lot of time has passed, we can be friends.  But not now.

The man who loves me and wants to wake up with me every day deserves my undivided attention.  And he’s going to get it.  Always.

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Not looking back

I’ve deleted you from my life.

You won’t hear from me again.  Ever.  I’ve blocked your phone number.  If you text me, I will never receive it.  If you call, it will go straight to voicemail, but I will never receive the message.  Technology can be wonderful.

Sure, if you really wanted to contact me you could.  You could call the office, text my work cell phone or send an email.  But I’m betting you don’t.

Last week the man in my life found out about you.  By accident.  By reading a text message to a friend of mine.  It hurt him badly.  We got past it.

I had saved screen shots of hundreds of text messages.  Gone.  Delete.  Empty recycle bin.  All photos of you — banished.

I’m not hurting him again.  All I can do is show him, every day, that he’s the one I want.

Now I understand how you could have written me off so quickly when TW found out about me.  You love her.  You don’t want to lose her.

Yeah, I know the feeling.

And I also realize you never really loved me.

I’ve got a shot at happiness with an amazing man.  I’m not about to mess that up.

Letting my guard down

I spent an incredible weekend with an amazing man.  A man better than I deserve — although he doesn’t understand why I say that.

Saturday was filled with anxiety.  I had flashbacks of you, and they stung.

I remembered last Valentine’s Day — eating fast food and meeting you at a hotel the night before you flew off on an excursion with your brother.  I dressed up — you didn’t really care.  I bought you gifts — you were kind of appreciative.  I still don’t think you ever listened to the CD of music I made you.

This Valentine’s Day, the man in my life came to my house the night before.  I took Valentine’s Day off work.  We slept in, ate chocolate-covered strawberries for breakfast.  Took a walk.  Had a great dinner.  Saw a movie.  Came home and cuddled.

Faced with the reality of someone who wants to be with me, juxtapositioned with the memories of a love that I believed in so much, but was never this good…haunted me.

Damn you!

I can’t believe it’s real.  I can’t believe something this good can happen to me.

Trusting him with my heart?  Still not happening.  I beat myself up over it.  How in the world could I have believed that what you and I had was real…and can’t believe that what I have with HIM is real?  He’s here.  All the time.  He’s never given me reason to doubt how he feels about me.  But I question it.  All the time.  To a destructive level.

I pray to God (very unusual) every day (highly unusual) not to let me mess this up.  It’s not often you get more than one bite at the apple, and I don’t want to let this one go.

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Someday is here

I’m going to move on and I’m going to be happy one day.  You’re still going to be miserable.  And missing me.  Some women would take satisfaction in that.  I don’t.  I just think it’s sad.

I wrote that shortly after The Breakup.  It was prophetic.  I’ve moved on and I’m happy.  Are you still miserable?

 

Happy Valentine’s Day?*

I get to spend tonight with you.  Of course you had to have dinner with The Wife first. I went through the Steak and Shake drive-through.  I put on a hot red dress, stockings and heels in my car in a hotel parking lot.   I don’t know why this upsets me.  Today has been harder than I envisioned.

I don’t have much else to say, except that this tune sums it up.

*This note was written pre-breakup and references Valentine’s Day 2013.

“Forever And Almost Always”
as performed by Kate Voegele

So the story goes on down
The less traveled road
It’s a variation on
The one I was told
And although it’s not the same
It’s awful close, yeah In an ordinary fairy tale land
There’s a promise of a perfect happy end
And I imagine having just short of that
Is better than nothing So you’ll be mine
Forever and almost always
And I’ll be fine
Just love me when you can
And I’ll wait patiently
I’ll wake up every day
Just hoping that you still care In the corner of my mind I know too well
Oh that surely even I deserve the best
But instead of leaving
I just put the issue to bed
And outta my head Oh and just when I believe
You’ve changed for good
Well you go and prove me wrong
Just like I knew you would

When I run out of second chances
You give me that look
And you’re off the hook

Because you’re mine
Forever and almost always
And I’m fine
Just love me when you can
And I’ll wait patiently
I’ll wake up every day
Just hoping that you still care

Oh, what am I still doing here?
Oh, it’s all becoming so clear

You’ll be mine
Forever and almost always
It ain’t right to just love me when you can
Oh I won’t wait patiently
Or wake up everyday
Just hoping that you’ll still care

Forever and almost always
No it ain’t right
To just love me when you can, baby
Ain’t gonna wait patiently
I won’t wake up everyday
Just hoping that you still care

Four Years Ago Today

first dayI

 

I was so excited.  I knew you were special, that we had an unique connection.

Do you remember that day four years ago?  It was snowing, like today.  You wore a blue sweater.  I wanted to touch you and feel your hands on my body.  We had lunch.

I fell hard.  My love for you was beautiful, sad and evil all at the same time.  I’m not even sure your love for me was real.  Four years.  More than half your marriage.

Did you envision we would be here now?  In pain, having inflicted pain?

Do you still wish I were there?  Do you still miss me?

I’d be lying if I said I don’t miss you.  Of course I do.  We were lovers in every sense of the word.  But we couldn’t make it work.  I wanted too much.  You couldn’t give me what I needed.  I found someone who can.  He’s amazing — even more amazing than you.  Not because he’s smarter, better looking, or better in bed.  Although he is pretty hot, very smart and a thoughtful and passionate lover.

He’s real.  He’s here.  He cares and he wants to build a real relationship with me.  He calls me every day.  Looks me in the eye when he makes love to me.  He’s open, honest and not afraid to be sensitive or vulnerable.

Is it love?  It looks like it.  Feels like it.  Maybe.  I need to figure out if it’s real.  After all, I thought your love was real, too.

Four years.  It’s a long time to not have what you want.

 

 

The art of moving on

Moving on from you has been more difficult than it appears.  I’m sure you don’t believe that from my last text to you.  It took a lot of effort, a bottle of wine and two friends cheering me on to type the words, “Please don’t contact me again.”  Big Sis didn’t want me to use the word “please.”    She wanted me to write something like, “Someone else has what you could have f’ing had.”  Or something like that. And she never uses the F word.

I get private messages from readers.  One that came in shortly after the post Last. Text. Ever. was published is particularly worthy of mention:

I know you think this is the last text, and it may be YOURS, but I doubt it will be HIS. I suspect he will text you again. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not even next week. But he’s shown that he has a sort of addiction to you, and I think he will contact you after he’s had a chance to realize that you meant what you said. Plus, he’s a man. He’s territorial. What’s his is his, and the thought of another man pleasing you will rankle him.

It sounds like you’ve made the emotional break from him, though, so congratulations to you. I know it was difficult.

Thanks again for sharing your story with us. I hope you continue to do so with your new man. More than anything, though, it sounds like you’re happy, and that’s the best news of all.

I suspect she is correct that you will contact me again.  Big Sis thinks so, too.  You kept contacting me after you broke it off to “work on your marriage” (translation:  you were scared because you were caught) and after you were terrible to me because you thought I emailed your wife damaging info about your cheating.

But you don’t really love me. You might think you do, but if you did we wouldn’t be where we are today.  It has been so long since I was treated honorably by a man who truly wants me — and not just in the sexual sense — it was difficult for me to accept.  But I do, and I’m done with you.  It’s sad.  You really were the love of my life.  Too bad I wasn’t yours.
I get to move on now, with a man who genuinely adores me.  He wants to make me happy, and in the short time I’ve known him he’s made significant life decisions based upon the fact he wants to have a relationship with me.  That’s epic.  I’m overwhelmed.
Sitting across a table from me, he looked me in the eye and asked me why I was so sketchy about him — why I wouldn’t believe that he really wants me.  “Don’t you think we will work?” he asked.
I was bowled over.  Yes, I think we can work.  From that moment, I was “all in.”  At that instant I decided to put all of myself into this relationship.  Just as I had done with you.  The difference is, you hadn’t asked me for that.  And you hadn’t cared that I had put all of myself into my love for you.
This one does.  He’s the real deal.  Genuine.  Open.  Not afraid of intimacy.  Sweet. Sensitive.  All the while being the bad ass former military dude.  It’s sexy and seductive.  I needed to let myself feel and let him truly care about me.
That meant letting you go.
Yes, there are bittersweet thoughts.  He and I are going to do all of those things I’ve wanted to do with you over the years.  The things I always knew in my heart we would never do, you and me.  Wake up together.  Go out with my friends.  Leisurely dinners.  Weekend trips.  And yes, my trip to Europe.  Holidays.  Meeting the families.  Sitting by the river reading.  Sitting on the porch drinking wine.  Going to the beach.  Working out at the gym.  Long walks.  Hikes.  Festivals.
It’s early yet, could we grow old together?  Probably, if we cherish what we have and work on it.  He asked me to retire with him to a sunny southern state.  I asked if we could live on a sailboat.
You have supposedly been in love with me for years and never asked me that question.
How could I have been so wrong?  So stupid?
I chalk it up to lessons learned.  Big lessons.  Yes, they were worth it.  You were worth suffering for.  But it’s time to put the suffering behind and start living again.
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