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?


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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Musical Monday: Jar of Hearts

No I can’t take one more step towards you
Cause all that’s waiting is regret
And don’t you know I’m not your ghost anymore?
You lost the love I loved the most

I learned to live, half-alive
And now you want me one more time

And who do you think you are?
Running around leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
And tearing love apart

You’re gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
So don’t come back for me
Who do you think you are?

I hear you’re asking all around
If I am anywhere to be found
I have grown too strong
To ever fall back in your arms

I’ve learned to live, half-alive
Now you want me one more time

Who do you think you are?
Running around leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
And tearing love apart

You’re gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
So don’t come back for me
Who do you think you are?

Dear, it took so long
Just to feel alright
Remember how to put back
The light in my eyes

I wish I had missed
The first time that we kissed
‘Cause you broke all your promises
And now you’re back you don’t get to get me back

And Who do you think you are?
Running around leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
And tearing love apart

You’re gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
So don’t come back for me
Don’t come back at all

And who do you think you are?
Running around leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
And tearing love apart

You’re gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
Don’t come back for me
Don’t come back at all

Who do you think you are?
Who do you think you are?
Who do you think you are?


Published by
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

Read more: Christina Perri – Jar Of Hearts Lyrics | MetroLyrics

Last. Text. Ever.

Last night was one of the best of my life.  I had dinner and amazing conversation with the man with whom I am smitten.  It’s hard to say that, since I have been so in love with you for so very long.

You had been warned.  I talked to you a couple of weeks ago and told you about my new romance.  It pissed you off.

I saw you last week.  I wasn’t proud of it, and I will write about it later.  But I did. And I felt awful.

Especially after my conversation last night with Mr. Lookalike.  He truly wants me in every sense of the word.  He’s an amazing man.

So I devised in my mind what I would say when I next heard from you. Which, honestly, I thought would be before today. I last saw you on a day with very bad weather.  I never heard from you.  You didn’t ask if I made it home OK, didn’t express any concern about me at all.  I reached out once, in a fit of emotional angst over my new relationship, distressed because this new man thinks I’m wonderful and wants to spend every moment possible with me.  I was struggling with accepting the fact that you don’t.

I had assumed you would eventually send me a text saying you love me and/or miss me.  My planned response was to be Love the One You’re With.

Today I deleted you from my phone’s favorites.  Then I deleted our text history.  Over  a year’s worth of texts.  Had to be nearly 3,000.  My phone went haywire afterward.

And then the text came in.  I need to paraphrase since I have deleted it.  It said something like, “Hi, how are you doing?’  That made it difficult to use the line I planned.  Big Bro, however, told me to put on my Big Girl Panties and do the right thing.

I replied something like, “I am doing very well, actually never been better!  I don’t know why you are asking, since you are supposed to be in [wife's native country] with your family.  Love the One You’re With.”

That obviously went over your head.  You texted back with why you didn’t leave the country and info about a work catastrophe.  At the end, as an afterthought, you said you were glad I was doing well.

I remember my last text to you very well.

“I’m in a committed relationship with a man who makes me very happy.  Please do not contact me again.  Thank you.”

Your reply confirmed in my mind that I have done the right thing.  Made the right choice.  And while it seemed harsh, it didn’t hurt me as much as I would have thought it would.

“OK — Works for me!  Good Luck!”

You didn’t say you were glad I was happy.  You always told me you just wanted me to be happy.  You never said you wanted to MAKE me happy.  Well, Mr. Lookalike does.  He says, “I want to make you happy.”  He doesn’t want to lose me.  And although his life is uncertain right now — where he will live, what kind of work he will do — he assures me that he wants me to be part of his life.

Good luck?  I already have it.  

A piece of my heart always will be with you.  And you will continue to disrespect it for the rest of your life, just as you’ve disrespected my love for you over the past four years.

You are the one who needs luck.

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Remembering the pain

I went back to read the post Staring into the Abyss.  I need to remember the worst pain I ever felt.

You see, I’m embarking on a new relationship.  It feels like a relationship.  Looks like a relationship.  The man I’m seeing called it a relationship.

Big Sis is warning me to be cautious.  Everyone else loves him.  I’m a bit confused.  Scared.  He could be a player.

He has emotional damage, but no more than the rest of us.  He has struggles.  Everyone does.  Nothing, so far, is a deal-breaker.

But I have to remember the heartbreak.  So I read the old post.

And I know that no one can hurt me the way you did.

So I know I can move on.

My heart is with you.  Always?  I certainly hope not.

All’s well that ends well

My intention was to break up with you gently.

The doorbell rang.  Although I was standing by the door, I waited to open it.

You were standing there in a long-sleeve T-shirt and jeans.  You needed a haircut and you had facial hair.  You looked a bit worn, but utterly delicious.

You wrapped me in your arms and I was powerless.  You held me and squeezed me hard, told me how much you missed me.  You apologized and said you never meant to hurt me.  You also said I was never, ever a piece on the side to you.

I offered you a drink.  You said you would have one if I was.  I remembered I hadn’t eaten, so I decided it wasn’t such a good idea.  I directed you to the sofa.  You complimented my holiday decor.

You started the conversation.  It seemed a bit rehearsed.  How we never meant to fell in love.  How great we are together and it’s because we love each other.  It’s not just about sex.

I know you live in your head and don’t let many people in.  Close friends are few in your life.  You’re an introvert.  A loner. I believe you when you say I know you better than anyone.

You told me the story of your latest drama, how you thought The Wife and I were working together.  We discussed possibilities, I asked questions.  You apologized for saying horrible things to me.

I told you that when you took up for her, I knew that you loved her and not me.  You said you had to do it in case she was seeing the texts.  I didn’t buy your story.

I asked what you want from me and you said you didn’t know.  I said after four years you ought to know.  You said you want to be with me but can’t think of a graceful way to get out of the marriage.  Plus there is YD.

I said you had made plans for your future and they were with her and did not include me.  You said that’s not necessarily true.  I called bullshit.

You said I’m the love of your life.  You want to keep me in your life, even if we just stay friends.  You need me.  You need me to love you and you want to love me forever.

It was entirely unfair.

You made me completely forget what I was saying.  I was under your spell.  I had to pull out my index cards with my talking points.  You laughed.

You disagreed without being argumentative.

You discussed her worsening disability and how she won’t be able to work much longer and that driving is becoming difficult for her.  I’m not sure I believed that.

I discussed how we can’t even have a “normal” affair because you can’t take time away.

You tried to tell me to hold on.  That soon she would be so severely disabled she would be homebound or in a nursing home.  I cut you off.  I told you that was too terrible to think about and I refuse to talk about it.

We made love.  It was wonderful.

Damn you.  You have my heart.  Always.