smrisme

This is my blueprint to infidelity. Whether it is justifiable or not, I am sure this is how 90% of affairs start.

We met, we dated, he was completely into me, I was completely into him. We moved in together after seven months of hot and heaviness. We were inseparable from traveling to family events, to just cuddling and watching TV. The sex was amazing and constant at the beginning.

Fast forward 2 to three years. We went from having one tv in the living room only, to one in the living room and one in our bedroom. He now also carries a portable one.

Fast forward to years five and six. Marriage is on the mind, of course. He refuses to be “pressured” into it. Sports, while a uniting factor in the beginning is now a HUGE problem for us. In handheld radios, in cars, at home, everything in our lives, even our travels revolve around sports. Sex is once a week at best.

I am also beginning to wonder why he won’t propose. Is there something wrong with me? He never compliments me (never did) and he is so obviously more into sports than he is into me.

Year seven, I give up. I want out of the relationship. I start doing my own thing. Going out dancing with friends, and traveling to Minnesota three times in one year. I get back from my third trip and he proposes, caught me off guard. Said yes because it was the “right thing to do” or so it seemed. We were married 15 months later.

Our honeymoon revolved around sports and a football game he wanted to attend. We went on a cruise a month later and he complained the whole time because there was no TV to watch and he was missing all the scores and games.

Three more years of the same…. Sex is no twice a month at best. We have grown to having FIVE tvs in the living room so he can watch all the games at once. Fantasy football, baseball and basketball are now huge issues with three to four leagues in each sport. His entire life revolves around sports, sports scores, and watching the games, oftentimes five games at once.

Now we have kids. The kids are in the way and so am I. He locks the doors to his room to keep us out. I am on the internet to pass time. I find someone interesting. We are huge fans of the same musician. The musician I have seen in concert 50 times, yet my husband forbids me from playing at home because he hates him.

He tells me I’m beautiful, he gives me attention, he says everything I have longed to hear. He lives across the country. He is so into me he is willing to travel to see me. I sneak off for the weekend to meet him. I’ve never felt so loved, so adored, so cherished in all of my life. He doesn’t care about sports, he just wants to lay in my arms and spend time with me. We spend three weekends together over the course of six months. He decides he is going to call my husband and tell him everything.

My husband reacts calmly to him on the phone. They talk for three hours while I am at work and I get bombarded when I walk through the door. He calls me a whore, a skank, a slut, a bitch, a cunt, every name you can think of. He demands to know every detail of everything that transpired, down to sexual positions. He wants to see every picture I ever took with “dude.”

He screams incessantly for hours. I end up sleeping on the couch. He wakes me up to tell me “I hate you so much I can’t even stand the sound of you breathing.” He tells me to get the fuck out, etc. All at 3am. I leave and go sleep on the floor of my office until 6:30 a.m Then I get up and drive home and wait for him to leave so I can go in and shower and go back to work.

Things get so bad over the next month, so abusive, that I end up moving out. I stay out for 13 months. During the 13 months, things with “dude” completely end. He makes me sick. He was a fraud. He never loved me. He was using me for trips to California, for gifts, for attention and affection. He didn’t care about me because he so easily destroyed my life and the life of my children, I know I am the one that made the choice, but I could have told my husband with some humility. He chose to make up lies and exaggerate things to turn the knife a little deeper into my husband’s back.

My husband comes to the apartment, he spends the night, we have sex, etc., over the course of a couple of months. He tells me he wants me to move home. Tells me he’s sorry he never told me how beautiful I am and how much he loved me and he wants to make things work. I move back in.

Within a month we are back to the same berating, the same name calling, the same verbal and emotional ABUSE. He tells me he only asked me to move back in because he couldn’t cover the mortgage by himself and the house was going into foreclosure. Romantic.

He STILL pays us no attention, does nothing as a family with us, lies to me repeatedly about his little side flings, while throwing what I did FIVE YEARS AGO in my face on a weekly basis. He said “no man takes back their cheating whore wives, I am the only dumbass to do that.”

This is just a pint size description of the abuse I have taken over the past five years. Some days it has been unbearable and I have struggled with suicidal thoughts. I carried guilt for a long time, paralyzing guilt, but the fact is, happy people don’t have affairs. He said at the beginning he understood WHY I did it, but over the years it changed to him saying I just did it because I am a selfish bitch who does whateverthefuck she wants.

I tried cooking more, cleaning more, dressing more sexy, and changing everything he said was wrong with ME and our marriage. He then told me “I recognize all the things you are trying to do, but the fact is, I am never going to be happy with you.” He also said that I destroyed what we have and there is no going back on that.

So I look at people who have moved past affairs with jealousy. They don’t realize how good they have it when their spouses choose to forgive and move forward. I can’t believe there are men and women out there who are SO forgiving, so patient, so loving, so understanding and so kind about their partner’s discretions. I would never compromise that forgiveness if it was given to me by cheating again.

It’s gotten to the point where I generally DISLIKE him. He is mean, evil, abusive, arrogant and so pessimistic that it actually affects my mood on a daily basis. He throws my affair in my face in subtle and obvious ways on a weekly, sometimes daily, basis. I have questioned whether I am a good person, whether I deserve to be alive. I tell myself, if only the house were a little cleaner, if my heels were a little higher, if my makeup was a little prettier, maybe he could forgive me and move on.

The depression I experience is something I never thought I would face. I would have never imagined thoughts of suicide would cross my mind. I never imagined the power of the guilt that I carry. I never thought I would be in an abusive relationship. I love him, and I want the best for him, even after all I have been through with him. I just know that isn’t me. We have been together twenty years this November and there’s nothing that can make him happy after all this time.

The sad thing is, he is too selfish and wrapped up into himself and his blame game that he can’t see he has set me up into the exact same place of finding solace in someone else’s arms, heart and bed.

The grass isn’t always greener on the other side, and it’s amazing what happens to your own when you fertilize it.