Tag Archive | daughter

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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Calm and perspective

I’ve reached a state of calm.

Recent changes in your life must be part of the “saving your marriage” grand plan.  Even though you told me this week, “nothing has changed between us,” you know it’s not true.  Things haven’t been the same since The Wife found out about our affair.  We haven’t been as close, haven’t talked as much and definitely haven’t seen each other as often.

I think you’re trying to kick the habit — “wean” yourself from me, so to speak.  You’re really trying.

It’s time for me to go.

I sent you a happy birthday e-card text yesterday and left you a voicemail on your office phone.  No reply or acknowledgment to either.

I’m sorry, but we’re history.  That’s unacceptable.

Today is “A Day in Infamy.”  It’s the 72nd anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor.

It’s also been one year since I met my friend Mr. IT.  You know about him, he knows about you.  He and I are friends — with occasional benefits — and the only person I “date,” so to speak.  We stopped for a while when I was being faithful to you.  I cried on him when he tried to seduce me after The Breakup.  We have adventures and good conversation.  We don’t mix our social lives or our families, by agreement.   We agreed to keep seeing each other until you come to your senses or either of us find love (and he — a mother for his young children).

I’ve been officially single for 13 months.  I met him a month to the day after my husband left — the day I picked up my divorce agreement from my lawyer.  It’s been quite a year.

It’s time for me to find real love.  I’m going to see Mr. IT tonight and I’m going to tell him that, too.  Sure, I will keep seeing him until I’m in an exclusive relationship, but that’s what I’m going for.

It’s really difficult.  No one compares to you.  I’m seriously in love with you and I love you unconditionally.  That means even though you’re married.  And an asshole.

But that’s not what you want from me.  Sure you like it.  Bask in it.  You don’t get that at home and never have.  You never will at the rate you’re going.

All the signs have been there for me.  I got a call out of the blue from a guy I met 10 months ago.  I went out with him once and then never returned his texts because he waited about 2 weeks to text me after our date.  And he didn’t ask a question.  I answered the phone this time.  I was in a bar with friends.  It was weird and awkward.  He’s too young and lives in the city where I work.  But it was a sign.

Then an acquaintance at the bar purposely introduced me and other single female friends to another recently-single man.  Ironically I met him a few times many years ago.  He owned a business my The Ex and I frequented.  He lost it and the wife.  Bad luck.  Nice guy.  Kind of weird and introverted like you.

Neither of them is a serious prospect.  Neither of them measures up to you in any way.

But it’s a sign.

Time to move on.

My heart really is with you.  I really do love you.  I always will.  But that doesn’t matter enough to you for you to acknowledge my birthday greeting.  It doesn’t mean I won’t pine for you and post mushy romantic crap about you on here.  I probably will even see you if you want, because you’re amazing in bed and I like to have the last word.  But that’s it.

I’m done.

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On the road to Dysfunction Junction

I hate holidays.

There, I said it.   I’m very social, I entertain, I cook.  I do it to avoid being with my family.

Ever since my dad died when I was in my early 20s, holidays with my family have sucked.  It was my dad who somehow made it all bearable.  I say he protected us from our mom, but my sister says not; he put up with her just like we did.

My mom is obsessive-compulsive and critical.  She complains about something constantly.  Nothing you ever do is right.  You might buy her a gift she likes but there still will be something wrong with it.  She’s temperamental.  ADHD. She doesn’t listen.  She constructs her own reality.

It’s going to snow.  Maybe I shouldn’t come.  Maybe she’s right.

My Ex was a buffer.  Even last year when we were separated he showed up.  Actually, we carpooled.  He could always handle her.  Maybe I even miss him a bit.  I remember the time he told her to stop picking on me.  She would listen to him.

You left on a plane early this morning with The Wife and YD, maybe YS, too — I didn’t really ask.  It’s GD’s birthday.  I’m sure the party is over by now. I can’t wait to see the photos.  I will never meet your family — your parents, your children and grandchildren.

I’ve always been attracted to men with strong ties to their families.  A shrink would say because I never had any.

My heart is breaking and I’m having a hard time being thankful right now.

My heart is with you.  Always.

Your Secret

You called me tonight and told me a secret.

I was surprised.  I’m pleased for you.  Proud of you.  Happy for you.

It signals that you’ve given serious thought to what you want from your life and how you want to spend your “what’s next.”  I think it’s a very good idea and, as your friend, I am completely supportive.  If I were your partner, I’d be all in.  If I had a drink in my hand I would toast you.

But I also know what it means for us.  It means we will never be together.  So much for “never say never.”

I congratulated you and told you how much I think it’s a good idea.  I told you I’m surprised.  It’s brave.  It’s courageous.  Even if part of the motivating factor is that you hate conflict.  But this proves you hate conflict more than you hate change.

I said, “It sounds like you’ve done some thinking and made some decisions.”  I’m assuming that The Wife was involved in this decision and is supportive — but I didn’t ask.

You disagreed about making decisions.  You knew what I meant — that you decided to commit to the marriage. But I think you have.  This isn’t a decision one makes alone.  It affects the whole family.  You even eluded to YD needing to finish high school before you do it. Although I’m not really sure how a wife with a disability fits into the plan.  It doesn’t seem like the best move for her…but I suspect she’s supportive.  For the same reasons I am.  It’s what you need.  It’s what you should do.

So I told you my plan for the next few years of my life.  Some of it we had discussed before.  Some of it is similar to yours.  It would be easy to merge our plans.  It would be an amazing partnership, actually.

Is that what you’re thinking right now, in your hotel room on your business trip?

You said you missed me.  I told you that you don’t have to.  You pointed out that you are several hours away.  I said that’s not what I meant.  You said you’re a dumbass.  I tried not to agree.  You signed off.

It was a good conversation.  It makes me sad.

We would be so perfect together.

My heart is with you.  Always.

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It is what it is

I was supposed to see you tomorrow,  since it’s a holiday, but had decided to tell you I couldn’t make it.  But you beat me to it.  I hate it when that happens.

This evening I received a text:

“I’ve got issues tomorrow. YD thought I had the day off, so she wants to go [do a fun activity]. I’m pretty sure her mother put her up to that, so I couldn’t really get out of it. I’m sorry.  Can we do something [the next day] instead? I could probably come early tomorrow for a couple of hours. [The next day] p.m. would be less of a hassle…I love you. Truly.”

No, “Hi, how are you?” or any pleasantries.  Just “I’ve got issues.” My, how our relationship has changed.  And you told me you actually had some work to do tomorrow, despite the fact it’s a holiday.  You’re not telling YD that.  Geez, I hate to be jealous of a teenage girl.  But I’d like to do stuff like that, too.

My reply:

“I go to [a town a couple hours west of here] [the day you suggested,] back [the next day].  Working from home Friday. [Fun activity] sounds fun.  Good weather.  Thanks for letting me know.”

Your response:

“I am sorry, Sweetheart.  I am sure it is a ploy to keep any eye on me.  I was really looking forward to seeing you tomorrow and I am very disappointed, too.”

Maybe it isn’t a ploy.  Maybe the kid really wants to go do that fun activity and really wants to spend time with you.  My response:

“It is what it is.  I’m not surprised.  Let me know when you have time.  I love you more than you will ever know.”

Readers are probably saying, “What the hell? Why did you go to the love stuff? You were doing so well!”  Because I do love him and I’m not going to keep from saying it just because of the screwed up situation.  You need to tell people you love them when you have a chance.  I also added that I can’t do tomorrow morning because I was pretty sick over the weekend and went to urgent care and my followup is tomorrow morning.  Which is true.  I was terribly ill.  I thought I might not even feel like going out to see you, but I’m doing much better now.

Surprisingly, I got another text from you:

“Thanks for that.  I feel really bad about this and I know I am not giving you anywhere near what you need.  Sorry you were sick – hope you are feeling better…”

So I asked “Thanks for what?”  and noted that I’m not giving you what you need, either.  I did go mushy:

“But I am willing.  Anytime.  All the time.  You know how I feel about you.”

Because it’s true, and I hope it registers that YOU are the one choosing for us not to be together.

“Thanks for sort of letting me off the hook by saying you had an appt. in the morning.  You could have said a lot of other things to make me feel even worse for breaking yet ANOTHER date, but you didn’t.  That’s one of the reasons I love you so much.”

Now I’m sure some readers will have a field day translating that.  Does he love me because I’m a pushover?  I’m nice.  So sue me.

“I couldn’t do that to you, even if I should…You have my heart.  But I was really looking forward to being in your arms.”

And you said:

“I was really looking forward to being in yours, too.  I really need you.  More than you know.  Much more.”

I found that interesting.  You’ve only said you need me about three times in four years, and most of it was recent.  Maybe in the beginning you said it once.

I responded that I’m here if you need me. All the time. I’d move mountains to be with you if I could.  But you won’t.  I didn’t say that part.  But it’s true.

I’m not always going to be here.  I will eventually move on.

It is what it is.

My heart is with you.  Always.

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Nightmares in your bed

The night I spent with you while The Wife was gone was both wonderful and hellish.

I was more comfortable than I had been in the past, despite the fact Youngest Daughter was home.  I snuck in after she went to bed.  You picked me up a few blocks from your house.  When you had to get up early to make sure she got ready for school, I just snuggled back under the covers and slept until you returned.

The Wife had put dark sheets on the bed.  I think there was a reason for that.

I slept better than I had in weeks — and I dreamed.  I don’t do much of that lately, since I don’t sleep.

In the first dream, The Wife comes home and comes into the bedroom. She’s wearing a nightshirt a lot like the one I’m wearing now (I don’t wear anything when I sleep with you).  She crawls into bed, not seeing me.  She’s taking off the nightshirt and telling you how sexy you are and how much she wants you.

She reaches out and touches me.  You put your hand out to stop her.  She realizes I’m there.  She says my name.  She knows who I am!  Then she tells me how beautiful the blog post was that I wrote for your birthday.  She said she read it on a plane and cried.

It’s a nightmare!

In the next dream, it’s morning and Youngest Daughter is getting ready for school.  She comes into the bedroom and I duck behind the door.  I rush out into the family room to avoid her.  Here she comes!  I run through the kitchen into the dining room.  She’s behind me.  I run up the stairs.  There’s a standoff near an armoire.

I don’t know if there’s really an armoire in the upstairs hallway of your house.  I’ve never been upstairs.

By the way.  My view IS better than yours.  Your shed is cute, though.

My heart is with you.  Always.

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Getting Sucked Back In

Maybe I can write about it now.  About how I’ve gotten sucked back into a relationship with you.

Since The Breakup two months and nine days ago, I’ve slept with you three times.  Once at a hotel near your house while The Wife was out of town and Youngest Daughter was at an evening activity — you left to sleep at your house and returned in the morning before work.  The second time was at your house.  The Wife was gone and Youngest Daughter was home — I sneaked in and stayed in the master bedroom suite to remain undetected.  I left my car a few blocks from your house and you picked me up at night and dropped me off in the morning.  The third time was a different hotel near your house.  The Wife was gone and Youngest Daughter was at a sleepover.  We spent the night together.

How did it happen?

The first time:

We had been discussing getting together.  You had asked me to go with you on a business trip far away, but airfare was pricey and the trip was eventually cancelled.  You thought you might see me when you and The Wife were coming to my town for a social event and she was leaving it to go elsewhere with a friend, but she decided not to do that.  (Really, you thought she would leave you to your own devices in my town?).

A few days later, on a weekday evening (unusual since The Breakup), I get a text:

You: “Looks like I will be free from 6 to around 9 tomorrow evening…”

Me: “That’s great.  What do you want to do, and where?”

You:  “I want do do YOU.  Anywhere.  Probably need to stay nearby…”

Me:  “So I should come your way.  Usual place? Or near your house?”

You: “I think near the house would be best.  We could always be adventurous and crawl in the back of the [wife's car].”

Me: “You are VERY naughty! Not opposed to acting like a teen.  But don’t you have a [popular hotel brand] and [somewhat popular hotel brand] in your neighborhood? We can also do the car.  I have lots of need saved up…”

You: “Yes, both are close.  I have lots of need saved up, too, so wherever we are will be good, as long as we’re together.”

There’s more, but that’s enough for the readers to get the idea.

I had a bit of an emotional crisis after the encounter.  I wrote about it in a note that has already posted The End, Part 2.

Eight days after I forced you to cut me loose, I hear from you again.   It was evening and I was checking out a fitness center I was thinking of joining.

You:  “Hi! How are you? This is hard.  I’m trying to leave you alone on the hopes that it will be easier for both of us, but I miss you.  Lots.  Just wanted you to know.”

Me:  “You’ve been on my mind and I’ve been resisting reaching out. I’m glad to hear from you.  It’s very difficult.  It’s like a chunk of my heart is gone.  I miss you more than I can describe. Craving you.  Thank you for letting me know.  You made me smile with wonderful memories.”

You:  “You are still my Baby …”

Me: “Sigh.  Yes.  My heart is yours. There are days I don’t know how I can ever be happy without you.”

You:  “Same here.  I miss your touch, your kisses and pretty much everything else about you… And she is gone again for a couple of days…”

Me:  What are you suggesting?”

You: “Just letting you know we can catch up a little. And, truth be told, I would love to have you in my bed again. :) I don’t want to do booty calls any more than you.  Just want to take advantage of every opportunity to see you…”

Me: “I would like to see you, too.  My heart is arguing with my head right now.  You know how I feel.  But I don’t want to be the backup, the one you call when your wife is gone.  I don’t want my role in your life to be making your marriage more tolerable.  I definitely want to see you, though.  I’m in love with you.”

You:  “I know.  That’s why I was trying to explain that these are the only chances I get.  Don’t want to be weird though…”

Me: “You aren’t in love with me, are you?”

You:  “I am definitely in love with you. I think about you all of the time.”

Me: “I think about you constantly.  It’s very hard to not be in touch, and not touch you.  How much time do you have, and when?”

You: “I have all night tonight”

Me:  “Are you alone?”

You: “No – Youngest Daughter is here.  I can meet any time tomorrow, if you’d rather.”

Me: “Your call.  If you are sure it is safe.  I need to pack a bag and shave my legs.  Where do I park? Or do you want to sneak out to the [popular hotel chain nearby].”

You: “I think it is safe.  I can come get you at the [business a couple of blocks from your house]. Let me know a time and I will be there.  I love you.

So that’s how I ended up spending a night at your house.  I thought you wanted to get caught.  And honestly, I think Youngest Daughter knew I was there.  How could she miss you leaving and returning? I know your house is huge — I couldn’t hear her at all…except in the night, when I believe she was standing outside your bedroom door.  And she overslept the next morning — you had to rouse her and nearly had to drive her to school.  The place is cavernous.  Did she hear my footsteps? The garage door go up and down? The water running, toilet flushing, more than usual?

The next day:

You: “I appreciate you very much, Sexy Lady.  Thank you for coming to see me.  I needed you.  Have missed you lots.  I value you on many, many levels.” and “I love you. Truly.”

I had an even larger emotional breakdown after that encounter.  You had said I might be able to come back the next night.  We texted about it during the day, then I never heard from you again.  I called you the next morning and let you have it.  You hung up on me.  I called repeatedly.  I texted.  I ended up parking myself in a bookstore coffeeshop near your office.  You ignored me all day.  It was humiliating.  You played golf in my town the next day and I didn’t hear from you until the end of the day.  I suggested lunch a week later and you didn’t respond.

Then, six days later, The Message arrived.  I returned the call and left a message. At nearly 1 p.m. the next day, I get a text:

You:  “Hi! If you are willing and/or able to do something this evening, please let me know. I will be free after 6.  No pressure, so don’t change plans for me.”

Me: “Sure, I can do that.  Where?”  (And I did change plans, and it was fairly complicated.  But I wasn’t going to let you know that.  I felt it was a better strategy to make you think I had nothing to do on a Friday night).

You:  “Your call…”

Me:  “I don’t know how much time you have, whether you want to be seen in public, how far you can venture from home, etc.”

You:  “All good questions and valid points. :) I have all night, but don’t want to put you on the spot.  If you want to pick me up after 7, we could go somewhere close and stay…order something in and hang out.  If you just want to meet at [bookstore coffee shop] for a little bit and talk, I’m fine with that, too.”

We made arrangements for me to pick you up in your neighborhood after dark.  The details of that visit are explained in the post Here We Go Again.

No emotional breakdown after this visit.  No talk of the future and divorce or other such things.  Just lots of sex, conversation, intimacy, laughter, massages…it was good.  It was fun.  I had places to go and people to see after our visit, and I sent you photos.  I think you might be feeling a little left out.  Maybe even threatened or jealous.  Good. It’s about damn time.  More on that later.

My heart is with you.  Always.

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Throwback Thursday: Can I Go On?*

*This note was written before The Breakup.

The Wife is out-of-town.  But I’m not with you.

Tonight you had Halloween candy to distribute.  The rest of the week you have Youngest Daughter.  I offered an idea for the weekend that you liked.  But we can’t be together tomorrow — your work day is packed, you have to pick up Youngest Daughter by 5 p.m., you can’t escape.  Me sneaking in is too risky now that she’s older.  Friday afternoon I likely will get my usual 2 hours in a hotel.

I don’t want to become one of the angry, resentful women who waits for her married man,

It could be time to move on.  Not because I don’t love you…but because I’m not sure you really want me to love you this much.

Tonight you tried to placate me:

“I want to spend time with you…just have to be realistic with her being here and my responsibilities.  And I DO love, miss and want you more than ever.  If I get any chance to escape, I will let you know right away so we can plan something.  I appreciate you…”

I texted back a lot of stuff and made a fool of myself.  Not angry, just realistic.  Wanting you to tell me what you want from me, because I’m not sitting around waiting for you if that’s not what you want.  If you’re happy with 2 hours a week, so will I, until I can’t do it anymore.  That’s what I said.  I asked you to call me.  You didn’t.  I called you but hung up after three rings.  I know The Wife isn’t home so I’m not worried about your phone ringing and bothering her.

I’m not trying any more.  If you call I will likely answer.  If you text I probably will respond.  As much as I know I shouldn’t.

I love you more than I thought was ever possible.  And it’s going to be my undoing, my silent, violent heartbreak that I can’t share with anyone.  I will survive, but it is going to hurt so very badly.

And I’m going to have to be the one to do it.  You may be the genius.  The tough guy.  The rational, practical one.  But I’m going to have to be the one to end the fairy tale.  I’m going to have to be the strong one.

She wins. Not that it was ever a contest.

**This was written about a year ago.  The foreshadowing is really eerie.