Tag Archive | breakup

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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Our connection

Our connection is more than an addiction.  It’s like you can see into my soul.

Your eyes.  Your touch.  Everything about you.

Loving you has been the best thing I’ve ever done.  No matter how it turns out and regardless of the pain, I’m glad I did it.

My life is complete when I’m with you.  Your arms are where I’m meant to be.  Your smile can make the world go away.

Living without you is going to be the hardest thing I will ever have to do.

My heart is with you.  Always.

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What I’m Going to Say to You

I’ve been going over in my mind the conversation we are going to have.  It will be the last time we see one another, so it’s important.  I know that, despite everything, it will be good to see you.  But I don’t know whether I should greet you with a hug or a slap on the face.

You told me several weeks ago that you couldn’t live with yourself if you left her.

Then you can obviously live without me.  You should do that, because I really deserve to be with someone who can’t live without me.  And if there is someone like that out there, they deserve all of my love and attention.

Four pages of talking points aren’t necessary.  That’s all I need to say.

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A New Start?

I went out for New Year’s Eve with my wild gal pal.  A bar with a band then a friend’s house party.  We both were in foul moods regarding men.  You had called me earlier in the afternoon.

Expecting an uneventful evening of being mostly bored, we headed out dressed to the nines.

As we sat at the bar in our local watering hole I noticed an attractive man on the other side of the large bar.  He caught my eye not just because he’s good looking, but because he bears a striking resemblance to a celebrity.  I asked the bartender if she knew him, and commented on his resemblance to the celebrity.  She, being a young woman who never watches the news, had no idea to whom I was referring.

One thing led to another and through the bartender our interest in one another was expressed and we struck up a conversation.  I thought nothing of it, other than it was mild flirtation.  However, as we were putting on our coats to leave, he rushed over to hand me his card.  I wrote my name and number on a napkin.  In a fit of what could be considered bad judgment, I also wrote the address of the party we were attending.

I told our host that a guy resembling a celebrity (who was on their big screen TV at that moment) might show up.  Next thing I know, the host is announcing that the celebrity has arrived.   It was funny as hell.

A lovely time was had by all.

At 9:30 a.m. today I got a text from him.  Yes, I think he likes me.  A lot.  I’m kind of liking him, too.  I’m just a little bit excited about it.  Although cautiously.

During the time I spent talking with him, some traits were obvious.  They reminded me of you, and some reminded me of Mr. IT, my FWB.  Obviously, I’m attracted to men who are tightly wound.  He’s retired military, too, so there’s that similarity to you.

Later today I finally took a sober look at his business card, which is from his last post before he retired.  He had scribbled his phone number on the back.  I take a look at his rank.  I groaned.

Explains a lot.  A whole lot.  I’m not terribly familiar with his branch’s rank system, but I’m pretty sure he outranks you.

I’m still cautiously optimistic.

Right now, my biggest fear is that he is married.  No ring, and he was with his son-in-law in the bar so it seems reasonable that he’s not a cheater, but you never know.

I like him.  And I always wanted to date a celebrity.

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New Year’s Eve and the Tales You Weave

You called.  I answered.  Twenty-three minutes.  

In just 23 minutes, you wove a tale so mind-boggling and unbelievable I almost believed it.  Perhaps I believed some of it.  Perhaps some of it is even true.  Interestingly enough, even though I didn’t believe half of what you had to say, hearing your voice and talking to you made me feel better.  Damn you!

The conversation wrapped up because she came home.  You whispered you love me as you hung up to greet her.  I’m seriously doubting your sanity.

I listened.  I talked.  It was a surprisingly normal conversation despite what has gone down between us.  You explained — a monstrous tale I can’t begin to repeat right now — and apologized.  You never meant to hurt me.

You explained the nasty text you sent me.   You had panicked.  You thought The Wife and I were in cahoots and plotting against you.  You had to make it look like you were breaking it off with me and taking up for her.

Well played.

At this point, the truth regarding the drama is a bit beside the point.  Irrelevant in the grand scheme.

This is what I know.  When the going got tough, when you were confronted with evidence of your cheating ways, your first instinct was to protect your OWN ass.  Not mine.  Not even hers — although at least when I thought you were taking up for her I thought you were being honorable.  I thought you really loved her.  Do you even realized you just admitted to being a complete and utter dog?

Or maybe you’re just telling me you said that.  Maybe at the time you were taking up for her.  But to woo me back you have to tell me you said it for her benefit, in case she saw the text.  So that she would know you were ditching me for her.

You were, dumbass.  And I’m going to make sure you live with that decision.

After the Christmas Day text there were others.  You miss me.  Love me.  Want me back.  Mine said I wanted us to sit down and end this relationship face-to-face, like grownups, instead of by text like we’re in high school.  You said, “Sounds good.”  You were to get back to me on the day and time.

I didn’t hear from you for two days. Ironically, right after I returned from an impromptu “girl trip” because I was so depressed over the Christmas Day Debacle (I had a meltdown in the middle of my Christmas party because you texted me.  Yeah, that was a good time).

It seriously makes me wonder if you have my house bugged.  I even asked you.  You didn’t answer.

But the text when I returned from my trip was a continuation of the “let’s break up like grownups” conversation.  It said:

“By the way, I am not breaking anything off.  We just need to talk about where we are and what you want and what is best for both of us.  I love you and care about you very much.  Always have, always will.  I miss you…more than you know.”

Not fair, sir.  Not fair at all.

We are going to talk in person this week.  I have a lot to say, and you’re going to listen.  Here is a preview:

Why would you want to continue this affair?  She is obviously closing in more than ever.  Do you want to get caught?

Even more importantly, why would I want to continue? What do you have to offer me?  A legitimate relationship? A commitment? I don’t think so.  We can’t even have a “normal” affair because you don’t have enough time to spare.  I can find someone to screw me a couple of hours a week.  I don’t need it to be someone who is ripping my heart out.

You’ve chosen to stay with her.  Go love her.  Love her the way you love me.  Let her love you the way I do.

I used to think it wouldn’t be fair to myself or another man if I got involved with someone I didn’t feel as strongly about as you.  Now I realize that settling on being your “other” is what is “settling.” Choosing to be with someone I don’t care about as much as you isn’t “settling.”  Unless settling is being with someone who thinks I’m worth it.

Being your mistress is settling.

A new year is upon us.  Go home and fall in love with your wife.

I’m going to find someone else to love.

My heart is with you.  Always.  Damn it.

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Be Careful What You Wish

On Christmas Eve I looked into the sky at the star I wished upon so many times over the past four years.  When I first fell in love with you, I wished that you loved me, too.

That one was granted.

Within the past year or so, I wished that you would choose to be with me.  And while that seemed like it would be granted eventually — or at least you seemed to dangle that possibility often — it didn’t happen.

Then The Wife found out (or at least strongly suspected) about our affair.  You dumped me.  I wished you would come back to me.  You did.  I was back to wishing you would choose to be with me all of the time.

I set a deadline in my mind:  Christmas.  I told you I wanted to spend Christmas with you — but I didn’t tell you that was the deadline.  I began wishing that you would be with me for Christmas.

Then the wife was onto you again.  You accused me of revealing the affair to her.  You said some very horrible, nasty things by text message.  You said to never contact you again.  That changed the way I looked at the stars.  I wasn’t sure what to wish for anymore.  Sometimes I wished you would be happy. Sometimes I wished you would come to your senses.  Sometimes I didn’t wish at all.

On Christmas Eve  I looked at the star, shrugged, said, “This is stupid, it’ s too late now.”  But I wished the I-wish-you-were-with-me-for-Christmas wish.

I entertain on Christmas Day.  It was the afternoon and my FWB arrived early so that we could have a romp before the guests arrived.  We were in the bedroom starting to undress one another when my phone, on the kitchen counter, made a noise.  He looked at me and said, “That was an email or text or something.”

I said, “Yes, it was a text.  And that text tone belongs to only one person.”   I powered on, although it was difficult to concentrate.  Finally, as we are making the last-minute preparations for the party, I looked at my phone.  I read the text.  I threw my phone on the counter.  He poured me a glass of bourbon and handed it to me.

Your text said:

“Merry Christmas! Hope you are doing well.  I am sorry about everything.  I miss you and love you … always.”

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A Christmas Note*

*This note was written before The Breakup.

The following is the content of the letter I gave you in a Christmas card.


Dear [Your Name]:

Loving you is an incredible gift.  I’m in awe of the intensity of my feelings for you.

My love for you has changed my life.  It has forced me to be honest with myself and examine the contents of my own heart.  It has challenged my own view of what love is  supposed to be and what it means to my life.

My heart is yours.  I give it freely.  Completely. Always.  Thank you for accepting my love without question.

Your love is safe with me.  You can count on me to love you unconditionally.  My life is open to you and you can have as large a role as you want to have.

Being with you is a priority because happiness is a priority to me.  There’s nothing I would rather do than spend as much time as possible making you happy and showing what my love can do for you.

Feel my love.  Know it’s yours.  No one has ever captured my heart the way you have.  And no one else can have my heart as long as I’m in love with you.

All of My Love,

[My Name]

The readers might be wondering if you gave me anything for Christmas.  You did bring me a card.  It was a card from boxed greeting cards, possibly the ones you sent to friends and family or gave to colleagues.

You wrote a short note:


I know this card is not very romantic, but I want you to know that I love you and appreciate you very much.

You’re the best!



It upset me.  I read it after you were gone and I didn’t acknowledge it via text.  You didn’t acknowledge mine, either. You had to hurry off because Son2 was coming to dinner.  I’m the best.  You didn’t sign your name.  You didn’t bother to go to the store to buy a card or pick one up, say, when you bought one for The Wife.

I hope you had a merry Christmas with the your family.

My heart is with you.  Always.

Throwback Thursday: Reconnecting*

*This note was written before The Breakup.

I saw you today.  It was a surprise.  I was supposed to see you tomorrow.  But right after we made plans for tomorrow, you  called me to say you had a meeting canceled and you were available today if I could make it.  I had lots to do, and plenty of reasons to say no, but I didn’t.

For the first time since The Meltdown, we really connected.  It was all you — you went there, not me.  You told me repeatedly how much you love me.  You looked me in the eye constantly.  Those big blue eyes melt my heart.  You held me close and were loving and gentle.  It was extremely good.  And the sex was amazing as usual — but your timing was absolutely perfect.  I don’t know how you do it.

And you slept.  A lot.  Soundly.  I did too — I was tired.  But you were out for a long time.  I sense you’re not sleeping well and when I commented on it you didn’t acknowledge it.

You held me and stroked me and told me how much you want to be with me.  How you’re working on spending “lots” more time with me and how you want us to go away together.  I’ve heard this before, and I’m sure you mean it when you say it.  It just never happens.

Tonight I got a text:

“Thank you for making the trip today!  You were — as always — awesome.  I needed you today.  I love you very much.

You rarely use the word need, and never in this context.  It’s usually more about wanting.

Why are you steering us back down the emotional path?  It’s great as just sex.

Did you sense I was mad that you went to headquarters last week and didn’t tell me ahead of time?  And then stayed there the entire holiday weekend with friends?  The Family went up, which doesn’t make much sense from a logistical perspective.

I don’t know why I even bother going out with other men.  None are of your caliber.  Sexy, smart, successful.  You’re the benchmark, and it’s a high bar to surpass.

I’m puzzled.  Pleased.

And it happens just as I was drafting the breakup letter.  Can you read my mind?

My heart is yours. Always.

Happy Birthday?


I spent your birthday in bed with another man.  And I didn’t cry for once.

A lot has happened in the last couple of days — I can’t wrap my mind around it all.  I have to let it marinate before I can write about it.  It’s so painful right now I don’t even want to think about it.

The Wife is after me again, this time with a vengeance.  And you were a complete and total asshole.  I can’t believe how dishonorable you have been.  It makes me want to eat icing.

I think I will.

My heart is with you.  Always.  And that makes me want to stab myself.  But cookie dough will have to do because I can’t take any more pain.

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