I alway knew that I was not his first love but I never felt like a second place finisher until a few weeks into our relationship. I should have never pushed those feelings away then. Now 17 years later as I talk with our teenage son about his father’s recent nuptials I know that I should have trusted my instinct in a new soul crushing way. I was the rebound and consolation prize. I was the distraction from the feelings he was having about the loss of his first love. We met two months out from her decision to call it quits and his rock bottom. I was a young, driven, and happy college student. I knew what I wanted and what I didn’t. It was probably the time that I was the most headstrong. It was a little out of character for me. I was still searching and finding who I was. After a daily innocent existence I was dipping my toes into the water of life. I had dated a little but mainly I was just looking at what there was. I met him and I was hooked. And I mean that in a quasi literal sense as we played the fishing game and just laughed and had fun. I looked in his eyes and saw something that I saw as a future. I had no idea that in his mind's eye his future could only be satisfying and fulfilling with her. Early on when we were dating, in the time where you sell your best characteristics, he would reminisce about the romantic things he would do for his ex. Drive hours to leave notes and flowers and make sure that her life when they were together was the thing of songs and movies. It was wonderful. What young girl doesn’t want to think that their potential love will take care of their needs. He was after sex. He used the line that “Anal” is not sex not to fulfil or connect with me but to fulfill his own lusting. As an innocent I needed more lead in and less lusting. I had no idea what I should do. I was not an oversexualized teen. I think he was confused about what he really wanted. You cannot have the virginal partner with the sex drive of a maniac without first building trust. Within months of having sex for the first time he was already looking at pornography secretly. Something that he openly called evil and wrong when we had first gotten together. Once again it should have been an omen of things to come. Of course there were signs. Ignores signs, but signs none the less. On the first Valentines together I paid for lunch. I got him a gift. What did I get? A gift? A card? A handwritten poem? A flower left on my car? Nope. Nothing. I got an excuse that he did not believe in the day. After his building up about how he made his former love feel like a princess I got nothing. But thankfully for him I was naive and accepted that it was just a shifting and was not personal. We just needed to build that relationship. Give it a few years. A few years go by. We are married. We are parents. I have married him and given him a son. A person to carry his family name into the future. I ask him what the plan is for Valentines day and he has no plan. I cry on the phone. He feels pressured to get me jewelry which is something I don’t really wear but he is trying to fall in line so I am pleased. I am happy. I am forgiving. When we were dating he knew I was not big into house cleaning. He knew I struggled because it is a never ending task. That was something I never hid. Trust me. But as our relationship continued it became more and more evident that he was expecting some chore loving person. I tried. I really did but the never ending nature of the chores would just take over. I am a curvy girl. When we met I had been very involved in a sport. I was walking to and from classes. I was active. But as I got older of course I got less active. I had three children. My thyroid hates me. I gained weight. Weight that only clinged to me and only starvation and daily long workouts alleviated. So if I wanted to have a life outside of work I was not able to lose weight. But I did it. But as I was reaching my lowest adult weight he had two physical affairs that I know of and countless or unknown emotional affairs. His excuse was that I was not available. He was working at a bar and I was busting ass losing weight. I got down to 142. I worked very hard. But it was not enough. I was not the ex who was built slim, tall, gorgeous, and with no kids. I was the college educated girl with flab, pregnancy stretch marks, and exhaustion from working and raising children. We moved for a fresh start. I messed up when I found that other men could appreciate me. Nothing was ever serious. I was an idiot. I grew up and rededicated to him. I changed careers and found something that I love. I worked hard over the summer to finish all professional courses so that I could move forward. Its not enough. He had another affair after we moved. Maybe its the only one I caught him in. He was still in love and searching for her. He was still writing romantic loving poetry about how much he loves her and wishes he had her and would give anything to have her again. I can’t ever be her. I know that. I’m short, fat, and not fun. I get caught up on work things and lost in my work. I shut the work out when I am overwhelmed and focus on games, shows, kids, and not the things he thinks I should. So when he came to me and told me that he and his ex had been talking I was not as shocked as I think he expected. I saw it coming. When he said they were rekindling. I knew it was coming. When the divorce went through and we mediated custody I was prepared. When he married the love of his life, his first love, the one he was a poet, a romantic, a hero, and a dedicated man to I was not surprised. Even so I was devastated. I am a person who had always been good at a strong face through adversity. I can stand strong in the sun and break at night. If I can spare others the breaking I try always. The tears and rivers came when I was alone and unseen. For him the love of his life and his purpose was her, she was his first, his always. But to me he was my purpose, me true first, and me always. While he entertained to himself that I could go on easily without him I knew I would never trust and never be able to really move on. It is always hard to be the consolation and second place. I have always known second and always been pushed aside when the true love returned. I know I am not destined to be that. He asked what he had to do to make me see that I was not second? Not search for her? Let her go? If you write poetry, delete it. Delete the thought and feeling with it. Keeping it only shows its importance. I sit listening to my heartbreak mix in me small lonely swelling. I’m sleeping on the couch so the girls can have their own room and the boy can have his own room as well. It’s not like I need privacy. I am only here so that they can have me. At least to them I am not the consolation yet. Maybe later. The Ex or well I guess that’s me now. The wife is more fun so I should only give it time.
A brand new world. A brand new place. A promise of something more. I remember how it started. It was a normal day in my book reading articles and other interesting things I found as I perused the web. Facebook had several interesting posts that I hoped to benefit from as well. Other than that it was same ole same ole. He was perusing all of comings and goings as usual. Some days he did some days he did not. Today he did. I perused an article that made him think that I was thinking badly of him. Of course that called for questioning. Questioning led to him feeling guilty. When he felt guilty he turned it around on how I am the bad one. I always wondered why he did that. Later that night I found out why.
“I think we should separate. I can’t trust you.” He said. “I can’t make myself trust you.”
“I have learned to choose you and trust you?” I replied through alcohol soaked breath.
“I just can’t.” He said.
He moved out the next morning. He said he was moving in with his mother. Later I found out that he had a girlfriend on the side and that he moved in with her. His rush to separate came from his rush to move on.
Three kids and a life together trumped by a more interesting suiter and no attachment. She had been hurt herself and shared his views of not needing marriage at the time.
The deal we had struck the night before his departure that the bills would continue as they were. No notable financial change except that he would not be paying for groceries. I guess I just assumed since my understanding was that he was moving to his mother’s that it would not matter. I saw it as a time to think and not a real break.
That was then. The new start. The beginning that was not requested. “We both need time to think and really reflect on our needs where we are.” That’s what he said. It seemed logical so I found no reason not to comply. He said he was not interested in any relationship or any other women. He lied. I chose to trust. I did not want to hurt him and I wanted to respect his wishes. I did not cry in front of him even though I was dying. I did not chase after him even though I felt my soul ripping from my chest. I thought it was what was right. He was his own person who deserved his own opinions, space, and respect. I thought that by holding the emotions back that I was giving him what he needed. I love him.
I focused my energy at the time on the kids and the house. I cried in private away from them. I sobbed uncontrollably at night with my TV streaming whatever seemed appropriate. It was awful. I would scroll through the movies and see things he would hate and would think “he hates this I can’t watch it. Oh he liked this one I should watch it.” So I spent my nights streaming the things he liked. Love stories? What are those? I am all about the comedies.
The day I found out that he had moved in with his mistress, I guess, I found out by fluke. I had been trying to call him just to check in. Well that is what I told myself. I just had an off feeling from the moment I woke up. He was not answering and that made the feeling intensify. So I called his mother.
“Hey is he there?” I asked fighting back the emotions.
“What? He hasn’t been here. Why would you think that?” She said. She was baiting me trying to get information.
“Oh I must have misunderstood where he was going.” I said knowing it was best that she did not know. She would use it to her advantage. I learned that early on. My mother in law was one of those that no woman would ever be good enough or as good as her.
“Well. If I hear from him I will let him know.” She said. “What is going on? Are you okay?”
Right. “Things are fine.” I lied through gritted teeth. “I just confused his plans. He is with his friend from work this week watching some games.” I lied trying to be as vague as possible so that if she did reach him it would not be something that would throw him. Still protecting him. My phone line rang through at that point and it was him. “Sorry he is calling to check in so I need to let you go.”
“Okay. Well let me know if you need anything.” Her poisonous words sweet as honey. We had moved closer to her an his family for him but now I was alone. Must make the best of things. Switching to his call.
“You called.” He said unceremoniously.
“Yeah I was worried.” I said. “I wanted to know how you were doing. I called your mom.” The line went silent.
“What did she say?” He said the irritation coming through like a chime.
“That you were not there. I said you were with a friend watching some games.” I said my strength edding at his baritone.
“Thank you.” He said. Silence. When people mention silence you could cut with a knife you really don’t understand it until you are experiencing it.
“So where are you staying?” I asked through emotionally weakened vocal chords.
“With a friend.” He said.
“From work?” I said.
“No.” He responded curtly.
“From where then? School?” I said grasping for more innocent possibilities.
“No, not from school.” He said. “Just someone I met.”
“A guy friend?” My voice a hair from cracking with emotion.
“No. It’s a girl I have been talking to for a little while.” He said. “I like her.” He blurted.
“But you said…” I said without thought.
“I know but it is complicated. The heart wants what the heart wants. I don’t want to hurt you but I love you both for different reasons.” He said. “I want time to explore what I have with her.”
“So you knew when you left.” I stammered. The hot tears stinging my eyes.
“Yes. I’m sorry.” He said. “This doesn’t change our arrangement for now. You stay at the house and I will continue to pay the bills that I paid before just not the groceries. Sorry I need to go. She will be getting back soon and we have plans. Bye.” He said, hanging up before I could even bid him goodbye.
So here I am the afterthought. The days became a week. The week became a month. The calls became less frequent. I died more each day.
You would think with the decreased calls the big brother watching would stop. Nope. I still received texts most days either about a search I made or an article I read.
“Why did you search about grief?” He said in one text. “I’m sorry I have hurt you.”
“Why did you read about emotional abuse? Do you think I was emotionally abusive?” He texted. “I’m sorry that I hurt you.”
“You spent a lot of time online today. It was pages and pages of posts that you looked at.” He texted.
“You have a lot of online activity.” He texted.
It was all along the same vein. “You” did this or that. “I” am sorry I hurt you. “But you did…” and “I can’t move on.”
The day I was served with divorce paper was a slap in the face. The only solace was that it did not include the idea of taking the children as full custody and was only shared. I collapsed in the doorway envelope in hand as the person left. The kids were at school already. I was home with a cold. It didn’t matter.
I remember clearly my first thought. “My family has no idea. I am alone.” I had not told my family what was going on. He had complained about them hating him in the marriage so I stopped telling them what was going on. I wanted them to love him like I did regardless of his actions. So when we separated I did not tell them. As the separation dragged on and I lost myself day by day I just cut myself off from everyone. My family, friends, and acquaintances had no idea. When they would question my moods I would attribute it to work stress and the stress of raising increasingly independent children. If they knew that I was telling tales that did not push it.
My new adventure. He had taken the step I never could. From what I understood he had left the girl he was with when we separated but was staying with a single co-worker in a sort of bachelor pad. She was a mess and he did not want that. He wanted more than that. More women. A co-worker had relayed to me at one point that he was with a lot of women and was not holding back.
In his drunkeness he would call and tell me about his conquests. “She had a tighter…,” “She let me…,” “her toes…,” “she did…,” etc and so forth. If it could hurt me or make him more virile sounding it came out of his mouth. It might have killed me more and more but it kept going. “You are fat,” “You are lazy,” “you are worthless,” you are…” and that went on as well.
When his lawyer presented the evidence that I was not a fit mother I was floored. He pulled all of his evidence of my admitting my wrong doings. He had deleted all of my evidence off of my phone before he left. Anything after the separation was not counted. The children were in my care and there was no evidence that during that period they were in any danger. I hoped that it would be enough. It wasn’t.
I was alone. My kids were taken and my marriage dissolved.
After a few weeks when I was forced from my home and living in the car I was at my wits end. I cheated but that was it. I was alone. No kids, no husband, no family, friends cut me off because I disappeared, and co-workers thought I was nuts because of my emotional mood swings. I was lost. How do you come back from that?
My opinion. You don’t. I guess if you talked to people you would be much better. I did not talk to anyone out of fear of hurting the one who was hurting me. I did not make it out of this story. I took my 9 mil and ended it in my car. The only thing I had left. Please talk to someone. If things are bad share with someone. Let someone in. It is such a waste if you end up like me.
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