No one’s priority

He said he was sorry for not being able to show up.  He wasn’t able to get away.  He is married and he has small children.  Did I fall in love, or is it lust with this man? I was drawn in by the soft gentleness he exhibits with his children. He is so kind and loving; I wanted to feel that kind of love, I wanted to be one of them.  And for once, feel that kind of attention. But life is way more complicated than that. I told him not to worry about it. I never want to add stress to his life. In fact I never want to add stress to anyone’s life. I have been accepting apologies and enabling people my whole life, allowing those who are close to me to hurt me. I had an epiphany that day when he said he was sorry as he often had said before. The epiphany is that I am willing to be seconds or even thirds because I have never been anyone’s priority.

That makes me an amazing wife, since my husband can put work, the kids, his parents…anything ahead of my needs. How easy and carefree for him, to have his personal attendant, who requires nothing back. Oh, and the kids, the ones I pretty much raised alone, since dad was so busy at building his ego with the accolades of his job. Well, any parent knows raising children is thankless. I don’t really even want them to make me their priority anyway, but if their dad would have shown some to me, maybe they would know how to care about me, not just want something from me. But it doesn’t matter, because they are grown now and they are givers like I am. I hope they find givers back.

I suppose I can thank my parents in some way for the role I have played.Stuck between the beloved older sister and pampered little brother, I was the classic over achieving, peace keeping, ”please look at me” middle child. After a while you start believing there really is nothing you can do that IS good enough. Not the good grades, not the starring role in the school play, which no one came to see, not even marrying the man they wanted me to marry. Then the cycle of family life began. The kids, the job, the house, the bills.  I was in it, good!  So I did it, I did what all I had to do. This was most everything. She is so capable!

Fast forward and the kids are grown, but nothing else has changed. The result of being no one’s priority is a desperate loneliness with which I have a hard time putting onto the page. The feeling is so strong, at times, it consumes me. My only escape from it is to distract from it, such as in the form of my sweet friend, who when he is not being a dad, is often times texting me with indecent thoughts. For hours we chat, and speak about nothing. The rare times we can see each other, we hardly say a word, and the energy consumes us both, with quiet inhales and intense holds of tangled arms and silent breaths. I am filling his void, just like he fills mine.

Why do I let him? You would not ask if you had understood the desperation I feel. One is willing to take a corner of moldy bread when they are starving.

Holding on to nothing

Why did I choose you?  Was there something in the way you ignore me that makes me want you more?

Is it the hurt that I crave? Am I so desperate to feel, that I am willing to take your punch in my heart.

I keep coming back and you welcome me in. Like a sticky web of the long arms and legged spider calling me in and trapping me in your tangled mess. The game you play, do you know you are playing it? Do you know I am caught into it? Of course you do, and you enjoy it, laughing inside at how I crave you.  Feeling the rush of knowing I can’t stay away all the while knowing how weak you really are, knowing, you are not deserving of my affections, hurting your own life by dangling me in your heart, frustrated that I reside in there.  Cancel me out, blow it out of your mind, the way I smell and the way I touch you. No…you can’t…because it is my sinister desire to own you like you own me…..try it again, I know you have tried……pull away and see how long you can go….can you forget me while the hint of my skin continues to haunt you…..?

 

Thinking about it

I’m thinking about it.  By thinking, I mean daydreaming, getting swept away, practically having an entire relationship in my head that will most likely never exist.  But man, do I love thinking about it. About him, I mean. Yes, I know affairs are terrible, everyone gets hurt, blah, blah, blah.  The external reasons don’t matter to me as much as the internal ones–I’d like to think I’d never hurt my husband like that. It’d kill me to see his sad face and know that I caused it.  But I still think about it.

There’s nothing “wrong” with my own marriage.  Unless you count sex.  We love each other, like each other, he’s my best friend. We cuddle, listen, we’re pretty sickening actually.  Except that no matter how much he’d like to; he can’t. I can see the frustration and sadness in his face.  We always hug, hold hands, stand close, but when I’m alone I’ll nearly start crying I need to be touched so badly. It’s killing him and it’s killing me.  When we do finally have sex (once a month would be a dream at this point), it’s fabulous; it always has been.  But the times in between are getting further and further apart and I’m dying.

Pills don’t work. What does seem to work is having very little stress and all the time in the world, and when is that likely?  He’s mentioned how crazy he feels, how he’s cheating me, how sometimes he wants to tell me to find someone else.  But I’d feel like I was leaving a war buddy to die; we’re in this together.  Except that I can’t help but feel like it’s me.  How this might be easier if I knew he were having an affair, or were gay, or something that told me he just didn’t like me “that way” and we’d be better off as friends and could leave it at that. Or I’ll wish male prostitutes existed, since maybe that would be a discreet option.  I start thinking crazy things.

Like this new friend, who I think I only daydream about because he has so much in common with my husband–similar quirks that are so endearing.  Only this one, in my fantasies, isn’t broken.  Is that terrible to say?  Am I broken and ungrateful for having a wonderful relationship and wanting more?  I know sex isn’t supposed to be important, but I believe that in the same way I believe people who say they forget the pain of childbirth: umm, maybe for you.

Why did it have to be sex?  How am I supposed to deal with this?  How can we deal with this together?  How can I make myself not want sex?  I’m dying.  I don’t know how to cope. So for now, I just think.

 

 

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