Another one from my fellow blogger She-Wolf.
I feel like we have a similar writing style & some similar experiences… What do you think? You will find out why some of her posts are so relevant to me & I will reference them when I can!
Thanks for letting me share!
So… my marriage is over.
Surprisingly, this is a lot more difficult for me to write about than I expected.
My (now Ex) husband announced last night- via sms- that he plans to reconcile with his ex wife, for the sake of his son.
He was wonderfully articulate about it. He did his best to be gentle and comforting. He could not be more apologetic; so that was something at least. Also, the marriage meant that he had to call it off; he couldn’t turn ghost on me and never speak to me again.
That being said, rejection still stings like a bitch, and after some particularly confronting personal news, this was just the perfect dressing on top of my suck-salad.
I even surprised myself with how well I took it. I didn’t abuse him (which is a big deal for me, given that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned; especially when that woman is me). I didn’t get drunk (like I wanted to). I didn’t bury my face in a trough of ice cream and pity-eat myself up a whole dress size, either.
I cried alone.
I cried on the phone to my best friends.
I cried with my cat.
Eventually, I cried myself to sleep.
It was fitful; I tossed and turned all night. It felt like I had this cinder block of sad, weighing on my chest all night; with bags of gravel being left under my eyes in the morning.
If I’m being truly honest with myself, I knew it was coming. He stopped contacting me as frequently. He stopped his ritual of telling me every day how beautiful and desirable I am, and that no man has a better, more beautiful, intelligent or articulate wife anywhere. He stopped saying that he loved me.
The saddest part in all of this – in my opinion- is not my wasted, much abused heart; it’s that he’s only reconciling with his ex wife for the sake of his child. A parents’ love is a powerful thing. I’m no stranger to it myself.
What I struggle with is the fact that he would rather his child see him miserable- but woth his mother, than happy and without her. Having been the byproduct of a very unhappy home life, I question his decision.
That being said, I haven’t told him that I feel that way. It’s not my place. He’s made his decision and now he has to run with it. I stupidly even suggested that he and I remain friends. He would apparently like that very much. I told him that I could deal with that- being friends- but that he was to never ask me to be his wife again. Given that this is the closest I’ve come to an actual marriage (though I’ve been engaged several times), it hurt me a lot more than anticipated.
Much of that pain comes from the fact that, in the few precious moments we shared as husband and wife, it felt real. I got a taste of what it would be like to have a husband come home to me and treat me well and appreciate me to the fullest. I discovered that I love being called wife, and that having a husband make love to you is a deeper, more profound experience than having a lover that fucks you. I loved that, after cooking for him, he’d look at me like I hung the moon.
That taste has become like a craving in me- especially now that I’m not getting it. That is something I will have to live with. I have learned through this that, even though it hurts like a bitch, it is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.
I know with certainty that I could be an amazing wife one day, and that any man would be damn lucky to have me. That’s what I’m choosing to take away.
The upside to all this is that I’m now able to keep experimenting with new lovers guilt free, for your reading pleasure. That, and the spiteful part of me feels less bad about cursing my husband and feeding him non-halal meat.
here is the link to the blog: https://wordpress.com/read/blogs/155174584/posts/45