It’s been a year of non-dating, unless you count the encounters with GIJoe. Yes, he came back into my life and for the past 6 months has been a steady part of it. Oddly, as much as I thought I wanted a relationship, at least a traditional one, he and time have taught me that I don’t.
In the last 12 months, he has been the only man who I have kissed. And if we are completely truthful, he’s the man I constantly thought of when ‘dating’ other men. He’s the one I go back to in my head and heart.
I love him, but I love my children more. I love my independence. I don’t want him or any other man to interject himself in my life on a daily and nightly basis. I can’t balance a man and his needs – regardless of how ‘easy going’ or ‘low maintenance’ someone claims to be, that simply is not true.
Being a mom to a tween and teen is demanding. I love my children; I think they are perfect, flawed, amazing, annoying, funny, helpful, selfish, smart, lazy, sloppy and generous. In the midst of all the chaos they create, they bring me calm. The piles of laundry that they generate cause me grief and frustration, but they are constant reminders that my children live with me full time, enough to generate all that laundry. The shoes I constantly trip over, remind me my children are safe at home, with me.
I am profoundly grateful to be their mom. It is unrealistic to expect any other human being who has not contributed DNA to these two miracles to be as enamored with them as I am. Sure, there are stories everywhere about blended families that ‘work.’But this is where I am selfish – I don’t want to work to make it work. I don’t want to have any other human being judge my parenting or contribute to co-parenting my offspring. I am sure there are hours of therapy in my children’s future and I don’t want to add to the billable hours by having them tell tales of mom’s boyfriend scolding them or have them feel like they are the reason that mom and boyfriend fight.
Now I am at peace with this ‘relationship’ thing. I have discovered that i am enough. I make enough money. I have an amazing home. I have the ability to take vacations and pursue my interests. I have friends. The part of my life that is the most important now is being physically and emotionally available for my children. GIJoe respects my boundaries because he has even stricter ones. He keeps me at a distance, as he too has his own life to manage. So now we are each alone, but alone together. For now, this is exactly what I need. Independent but involved.
Trusting other people has been difficult. I don’t believe what people say. I look for reasons to not believe what people tell me and tend to believe the opposite. In the case of Mr. Serindipity, I didn’t want to believe that he is not interested in me. It was fate that we met. How could he not be interested?
After several weeks of texting for days, I find it odd that Mr. Serindipty hasn’t come up with a reason to spend time with me. After much discussion about his anxiety and other issues with him being injured I think I can use that to my advantage.”Come to Yoga,” with me I say to him. “It will help you rehabilitate your body after all that cross fit.” I think that there is no way he will agree to go to yoga. There are so many preconceived notions, but I did think it could help him. Plus, I wanted an opportunity to spend time with him.
After a couple of days of non stop texting and cute bantering, it is set. He has agreed to go with me.
I start to feel again. the butterflies. the anticipation. I get nervous thinking about being in a hot room next to him; sweating, bending. and trying to stay focused. Plans are arranged and he tells me he actually went without me. To get a ‘lesson’ so he’d know what he was doing ahead of time.
My head starts to spin with questions. Could that mean he likes me? does that mean that he wants to impress me? Is he just feeling like he said – he didn’t want to look like he didn’t now what he was doing? My mind can’t be quiet. It has been months since I have thought this way about any other man, and then this one showed up – right after I ordered one from the universe. Could it be him? Could it be a coincidence?
On my way to the studio, he text me that he’d pick me up. I am an idiot. I didn’t want to presume it a date where he’d pick me up so I say I am on my way and I’ll meet him there. Then i am flustered. what says “I am not interested” any more than “I am not interested in you picking me up so I drove myself.” I have not actually seen him in weeks. But I walk into the studio and set myself up next to him. I can’t speak. I am so nervous. I am thankful for yoga studio ettique. I have a reason to not talk and certainly blunder my words. I am much better at texting where I can type and backspace. and retype. then send. Speaking – well I am not always so eloquent.
Somehow I make it through the class. We leave, sweaty and I feel as though I look awful. I want to go home and take a shower. We leave the studio and it’s chilly out. I wish now we drove together because I really want to spend more time with him. He offers to walk me to my car, and I nervously tell him he doesn’t need to that I parked in the deck. Idiot. he offered to spend time with you! He walks me to my car. I chatter, nervously the entire way. My brain tells my mouth to stop taking. But I ramble on. We make it to my car and I want him to forgive my social awkwardness and just kiss me. As gross as I look and feel I find him sweet and funny. If he would just iss me my mouth would stop chattering nonsense! We say our goodbyes with not so much as any physical contact. I get in my car, shut myself in and feel safe. sad. but safe. He went to Yoga with me. it was an activity we did with out any hint of interest from him. But I am not shocked – the words that fell out of my mouth and the way I acted didn’t exactly scream, “I find you incredibly attractive and I want to get to know you more and kiss you!”
Finally, back behind the comfort of a keyboard, I can text him. I admired his ability to go to a class beforehand. I can tell him I enjoyed his company. I have the ability to ask him to go with me again. He agrees.
He must like me. what guy goes to yoga on his own to ‘learn it’ before hand. He must really like me. he agreed to go again. Or maybe he just really wants to do yoga and it has nothing to do with me. I don’t exactly make the best first impressions.
This is great. I am thrilled. I think it’s date. I count down the days and this time, we agree to have him pick me up. It feels more like a date.
He comes to my house, he comes in. I am making my kids dinner and feel a little more relaxed but still very nervous. I got this, I think. It is yoga. We went before, the only difference is we are riding together. Yeah, It’s a date. I say to myself. I am smiling on the inside.
The ride to the studio was effortless. We talked. I was not as nervous as I was before. I think the fact that it is dark out and i am staring at the road ahead makes it easier; still I am a little tongue tied. Tonight’s class – Yoga Nidra – is a guided meditation, and will leave me feeling less sweaty and unattractive at the end. As the class progressed, I was very distracted thinking of him lying next to me. When the class ends, we leave the studio. I am not ready to go home. I wish I could spend more time with him. As I am thinking that, he asks, “do you want to get some hot chocolate?” I blurt out, “I don’t like hot chocolate.” Why could I have not said something more flirty. more fun. more witty. Why could I not have just said YES. I am an idiot.
We get back in his truck and he takes me home. I become aware of myself. I am chattering and twirling my hair. I am leaning into him while we talk and nervously touch my throat and collar bone. All of the sudden I am aware that I am exhibiting body language that I didnt know I had in me! I stop immediately. I don’t want to be so obvious. We pull into my driveway and I don’t want the night to end. “Do you want to come in for a bit?” I can’t believe the words came out of my mouth. It is out there. If this is a date, and if he likes me and if he wants to spend more time with me too, I will know.
“I have laundry to do.” it just took five words to let me know he’s not interested. I feel so foolish. For god’s sake, 3 minutes earlier, I was subconsciously twirling my hair and hoping for him to kiss me. Ok. I reel back. This was not a date. The other day was not a date. What man says he has laundry to do when a woman offers for him to come in. I laugh it off, congratulate him for making it through another night of yoga with me. I hug him good bye and head into my house.
I close the door behind me and replay the past few encounters. he texts me a lot. he went to yoga with me not once but twice with me and once on his own. He hugged me back. He can’t think nothing of me, but he clearly is not on the same wavelength as me.
For someone who is not interested, he’s spending a lot of time with me. Maybe I am just not his type. I want to test this theory so I invite him over to meet a friend. I say, “you should come meet my friend.” He agrees to come over to meet her.
At this point, I should have taken the clues:
He didn’t make a move on “date” one.
He didn’t come in on “date” two.
I suggest a set up with a friend and he willingly agrees to come over.
These were not subtle, they were overt. obvious and loud indicators of non interest. Now I am screwed; I have to have him over to meet my friend.
When I set this event up, I didn’t consciously think that my motive was to get him alone, but it quickly turned into it. My friend is beautiful. Articulate. Smart. She surfs. she’s cool. she smokes pot. she has a large vocabulary. She went to Ivy Legague school. She eats foi gras, sushi, and other exotic foods. She confidently and charmingly weaves entertaining tales about her life living at the beach. She is everything I am not. Of course he would prefer her, that is why I invited them to my home to see if they’d hit it off. In the short time I have known him, I do think of him as a good friend and want him to be happy in a relationship. If not with me, then why not with my friend? But I do like him. I become insanely insecure. I am a bit chubby in the middle. Socially awkward. I can’t express myself very well. I want to kiss him. A ‘kiss test’ to see if he responds. I invited him over to meet my friend and now all I can think about is kissing him. I am a terrible friend and feel like I’ve manipulated this situation. Maybe I will be able to kiss him into liking me?
After a couple glasses of wine, i have the courage, I rudely leave my friend in the kitchen and drag Mr. Serindipty to my bedroom, i shut the door and tell him that I feel very attracted to him and all I can think about is kissing him. He doesn’t protest and before I know it we are in each others arms making out like teen agers. It feels amazing to have him against me. Now I am wondering exactly how far this can go. would I sleep with him? He is a great kisser and I apologize for inviting him over to meet my friend then stealing him away. He laughs it off. I want to know, I want to hear him say that he likes me. That he’s into me, but we just kiss, talk. laugh. I really like him and I am not thinking about GIJoe. I want to know why he hasn’t responded to me before. I like him. I tease him and jokingly say, “when a woman invites you in, you don’t say you have laundry to do unless you aren’t interested.” He says, “or it could be that I don’t know what I want.” Maybe he has a girlfriend. I ask, ‘are you seeing someone else?” he responds immediately, ‘yes’ So now I understand, I think.
He DOES like me. but he’s conflicted. He’s dating someone else. I press the issue: “How would she feel if she knew you were kissing me?” I want to figure out how serious is this. Am I (once again) getting involved with someone else’s man? I want more than to be an affair. After all, I am ready to find Prince Charming. And he is Mr. Serindipity, and very well could be Prince Charming. But not if he’s dating someone else!
“She would not be happy.”
“Are you Ok with this?” I ask him, but really I am asking myself. I am not sure if I am okay with kissing someone who is in a relationship with someone else.
“Yes. I am, I do what I want to do.” He says it like he’s trying to convince himself that it is true. “I don’t know if I just want to date one woman.”
“Ok. I get it. I think monogamy is overrated, as long as everyone is honest and truthful. You should tell her so she can decided if she wants that kind of relationship.” Why I felt the need to tell him that is beyond me. Yes monogamy is overrated. In truth we are all in ‘open relationships’ whether we want to believe it or not. At any given time anyone in a relationship can stray. I clarify, “the issue is not kissing multiple people, it is in not telling the truth.” That I believe wholewhartedly.
I get the feeling this is going to be a longer conversation, but right now, I just want to keep making out with him. In light of this new information, I am not going to have sex with him. For several hours we kiss, talk, laugh and cuddle. We end up getting naked and I am so hungry for him but hold back. I don’t want him to see me desperate for his affection. I pull away and realize that I am about to cross that line with him; I don’t want to be that girl who is an affair but as I look at him, all I can imagine is him inside of me. I can’t do it. I want him exclusively. I don’t wan to share anyone ever again. At this point in any kind of courtship it’s unreasonable to impose any kind of fidelity rules. Lying there naked, I notice he is fit and toned. Cross fit has worked for him.
I then remember back to when I was getting regular meal plans and work out plans from GIJoe. He helped me build an amazing body. Now I glance at my self, I get self conscious. I am not as toned as I was; as much as I want to deny it, I have let myself go some. Mabye if I were more attractive or more fit he wouldn’t have agreed to meet my friend. I ask him, “what do you think of me? I am not like the cross fit girls you know. and I am not wafer thin either.” He says, ‘ you are average.’
the room gets quiet. He is right. I am average. Average looking. Average height. Average intelligence. Average. As in not repulsive but not drop dead gorgeous. I hear mediocre. Average.
Immediately I want to turn back time. i want to be back at the farm house in Illinois. I want to be alone. I want him out of my bed. Out of my house. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be with him. I don’t want to be Average. I want to be back in the time where I was loved. Adored. I want someone to look at me like I am the most beautiful (not average) woman he has ever seen. I want GIJoe. He would tell me how beautiful I was. He would have to catch his breath when he spoke to me. I literally took his breath away. And now here I was, naked, in my own bed with a man who saw me as average.
Denying the obvious signs of Mr. Serindipity being too weak to leave earlier and reject my kissing him, I made a joke and told him that while he thought I was average there were some who thought I was above average.
I kiss him some more. His hands go to my head and he pulls me close to him. I want so badly for him to be the one. He came when I asked the universe for someone. He is Mr. Serindipity. What went wrong? We continue making out and caressing each other. I want to get on top of him and show him that i am not average! I know I can’t undo what we did but I am glad we didn’t have sex. Oddly, I think to myself that I want to get to know him more. I think I could really like him and I want to have a friendship too.
He stays in my bed until 430 a.m. I kiss him good bye. Now I am conflicted. He leaves me with an odd feeling that this was not a one time event but not going to be repeated anytime soon.
I feel like a shitty friend to the surfer girl. I feel like a manipulative woman to Mr. Serindipity. Personally, I feel hollow. As fun as it was kissing Mr. Serindipity, he was a reluctant participant. He wants what I am not and all along I knew that I just couldn’t face the reality. After he left and I was alone in my bed, it all seemed so obvious. He said, in words, as well as actions that he’s not interested in me. Why can’t I just accept that.
Something has to be done to right this; I like him and even though I’ve only known him for a couple of weeks, I don’t want that to be the end of our friendship. I send him a quick text letting him off the hook. After all, I invited him over to meet Surfer girl. I apologize for kissing him. I err on the side of honesty, “I am sorry I attacked you I really wanted you to like me. Did you want to meet Surfer girl again?”
“She did seem pretty cool. how about i get through this month…. I may not be my most generous self. I guess the real question is would she like to meet me.”
My heart sank and my eyes welled with the stinging tears of rejection. I am a good person, I tell myself. But i know that isn’t true. I am mortified by my actions. I chased a man who I thought the Universe sent to me. He rejected me now four times. The message from him was coming in loud and clear.
I tel him that I am embarrassed by my behavior. “I thought i was setting you up… I had a few drinks and had that feeling that you were into me too.”
“Don’t apologize.” he says. “we both had fun, I hope. And we are both open with each other. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Wonderful, I think to myself. I was a ‘fun time’ I am very glad I didn’t fuck him. that’s all it would have been. My stomach is stariting to clench, I grab myself if holding me tightly will keep the tears from spilling out of my eyes.
“I am sorry. I took advantage” I say again. hoping that my apologies may convince myself that I am a good person, worthy of love some how.
“I didn’t fight all that much,” he responds.
Again, I tell him, “Yes I liked that.” to which he sends an ambiguous smily. I hate emoticons. They are lazy. So I ask him outright, “Did you?”
He says, “yes I did.”
Needing clarificattion, I press the issue, “Did you really because you seem conflicted or not interested,” knowing full well that the girlfriend might have been the reason.
But he responds, “I don’t want you to feel like I took advantage. I LIKE SEX.”
That clearly says, “I like sex. you were offering. I wasn’t going to say no.” I am an idiot because now I just want the actual words to come from him. Don’t beat around the bush anymore. Reject me. For real. I tease it out of him and hand him the verbal knife: “Right, well you didn’t’ take advantage. I was hoping that I could tip you over into feeling something for me.”
And now it comes, a swift clean cut, “I am a very physical person. I like you and enjoy you but not in a relationship way. you are a good friend.”
Now I can bleed with tears. That was the emotional cut that i needed. An odd feeling of relief and pain simultaneously come over me. It is the same hurt and pain that i know from GI Joe. From the Gay X husband. Oddly, it is comforting.
He speaks the the truth that I don’t want to be true. The words echo: ‘not in a relationship way.”
“Suck it up!” I command myself. “Don’t beg. Don’t ask. Don’t try and convince him.” I remind myself that someday Prince Charming will come.
“Good. I didn’t get what I needed from you.” and that was the truth. What I need is a man to breath me in. to quiet the noise around me. to hold me. make love to me. adore me. I clearly misread his physical response to me as one that could be emotionally fulfilling.
When I told the universe I was ready and asked to meet my partner, he showed up. Maybe it doesn’t work as quickly? Maybe I thought he was IT but really it was the universe stuttering its reply and the real Prince Charming is still out there? Or maybe, hoping against all hope, Mr. Serendipity meant what he said in that he just doesn’t know what he wants and it could be me after all.
I asked the universe for a man, Prince Charming. I was quite specific. A little demanding in some regards and a little open ended in others. I didn’t think much of it when Vic called and asked if I wanted to join her and her son at the High School football game. She would come over and we’d walk up with my daughter and her friend.
A couple of glasses of wine later, we were off. On the way up there I mentioned to her that I was done with my fooling around with married men, waiting on GI Joe, and was ‘putting myself out there.’ I declared I was ready to meet someone. I had gone so far as to re-write my dating profile, even. We toasted my new commitment to finding a normal, healthy relationship.
As we found our places in the stands, we reminisced about how we had run on that track over 20 years ago. We talked about our first loves, our friends and found comfort in seeing how somethings had changed for the better. The band had gotten better, and she noticed that since she played, they had better uniforms, though they still looked miserably uncomfortable to me.
On a positive note, the football team had improved. The stands were packed with families and the community. A far cry from when we were going to school when only a few people would show up for the game. Sitting in the stands, I had such a wonderful, peaceful feeling. Since leaving Illinois, I had gradually began to feel like I belonged back here and that I fit in. The stress and anxiety of getting divorced was in my past. My job was fairly stable. I really didn’t long for a thing. Well, except for a normal relationship.
We cheered for the team and she being the social media maven she is, snapped a photo and put it on Facebook. Vic was always the popular girl. Voted “Sexiest Senior” even. She was still drop dead gorgeous, caring, and an amazing friend to me. More often than not I stood next to her and felt like the Designated Ugly Fat Friend but she didn’t need a DUFF to shine. Regardless, she is kind, funny and people gravitate to her. She has hundreds of Facebook friends that are all probably really good friends to her in ‘real life.’ She was a collector of people. Friends from high school, college, graduate school, sports clubs, and colleagues. They were all friends to her. It didn’t take long after meeting her to feel like a true friend. So it was no surprise that shortly after announcing our presence at the game that people took notice. Before I knew what was happening one guy was coming to find us in the stands.
Little did I know that Mr. Serendipity was on his way and that I would meet him for the first time. When he appeared and I tried to place his face from over 20 years ago. Having gone to 8 schools in 12 years, the names and faces blurred. Back then there wasn’t Facebook to keep in touch so when I said goodbye, it was for real. I was not a collector of people. I was a drifter. I drift in an out of social situations and locations. I don’t stay long enough emotionally or physically to get too attached to too many people. The people in my life are few but dear. Vic was one of them. Mr. Serendipity was nice enough. Friendly enough. I found him very attractive. His daughter was part of the home coming celebrations, so he was quite proud of her and beaming when he spoke of her. There was nothing about him that I found remarkably annoying or off putting but at the same time, I didn’t really spend enough time with him to determine if I liked him or not. But he seemed nice enough. Like it is though anytime I am with Vic, she’s the center. The lifeblood. She has such radiating positive energy that I enjoy being around but don’t need or want to compete with. Mr. Serendipity was her friend. He obvious was quite enthralled with her. I didn’t want to compete for airtime.
At the time, I didn’t know he could be the one I asked for and it is up for debate as to whether he is Prince Charming! But when he found his way through the crowds to find us, I didn’t think twice about my plea to meet someone. And as the game wrapped up and we said our goodbyes, he leaned in to give me a friendly hug. How thoughtful, I thought. He wants to hug Vic so he extends one to me too. I was taken by surprise but it was nice, really nice.
Walking home, I thought how pleasant the whole evening was. It was so nice to be in my hometown with my kids and having them have similar experiences to the ones I had growing up. I asked Vic about Mr. Serendipity. She told me funny stories about him and some double dates they had gone on. She fully endorsed him as one of the good ones. Nice to know, I thought.
Shortly after she left, I looked at the Facebook photo that she snapped of the three of us. I felt drawn to him and connected with him on Facebook. Within minutes, we discovered we were a year apart in school. We knew a lot of the same people but never socialized. We both went to the same college in Ithaca, NY. We lived on the same part of campus. We took, quite possibly at the same time, the same Art History classes. We had been divorced about the same amount of time. His daughter was a couple years older than my son. For about 2 weeks, he became my fast new friend. Texting all day and into the evening. I had developed somewhat of a crush on him.
I told Vic about my new friendship and she remarked, “What if the reason you moved back here was for him and not GIJoe. Maybe he is the one?”
That stuck with me and became a topic I needed to explore. For the first time I could see my self not longing for GIJoe who I had not heard from in since the Shamrock Incident.
In yoga our instructor told us to give up expectations. Okay. I normally don’t have any, so that was easy. I don’t expect to fail or succeed. I hope that my strength, flexibility and concentration is enough to keep me from falling on my face or ass, depending on the pose. But if I do fall, I don’t really care. No one is going to die because my Parivrtta Ardha Chandrasana causes me to stumble. I am not somehow more spiritually connected because I hold Natarajasana. But now that I am challenged to not have have any expectations, I wonder if I should have. Am I doing it wrong? My journey of having no expectations or no goals has been painful. It is a paradox to have no expectations – that is still an expectation. so the chatter in my monkey brain starts. If I wasn’t expecting to fall, isn’t that an expectation? “QUIET!” I yell to myself. Ah…. my breath. I feel balanced. My breath is filling my lungs. My exhale is smooth. No expectations. Nothing. “I did it!,” I rejoice to myself. I am breathing and thinking of nothing. Oh crap…. I am now thinking of the nothing. so now it’s something. My breath is something. “Don’t think'” I order my brain! Now here I am I am thinking of nothing. isn’t nothing something? is this the right nothing. I hear my hear beat. I listen to my breath. I expect to hear my hear beating. wait, that’s a thought. Empty my mind. Is it empty now. Is this nothing? The nothing is something. Not expecting is still expecting.
My mind wanders. I think how this nonsense is in my life. I have no expectations of my gay ex husband. I don’t expect him to be kind and generous with our children. I reflect that the lack of that expectation is really an expectation. I expect that he will be a disappointment to them. I am correct more often than not. History informs my opinion. He is a moron. Yes, I am judging. Yes I am aware that I shouldn’t. This journey is a painful one where I struggle with letting go, forgiving, moving on and being present.
I am absolutely terrified. the kind of scared that is paralyzing. I am done. It is over. All of it: My fight to leave. My dealing with the Guardian ad Litem. My dealings with the gay husband in a matter of moments has ended. I will be leaving rural Illinois now and starting over.
Just like that in a moment my life changed. The latest is that the gay husband said that he would give up the fight and let me move with the kids. The report from the Guardian recommended that I have physical custody and that the kids and I would be better in New Jersey, near my family where I could be employed. I could go home to New Jersey and raise my kids by my family in a place where no one knows our secrets. I could start over. My kids could start over. I could have a “real” job. I have my ticket out of Illinois! The gay husband has no chance of winning a fight, the judge indicated he would side with the Guardian.
It has been nearly two years from the day when I discovered my idyllic life was a lie and that my husband had been having secret affairs with men. Not just one affair or a couple here and there but many. I discovered he was a pathological liar and a serial cheater who had hundreds of affairs, right in front of me.
Now, I can walk away. well, drive actually. It only took tens of thousands of dollars paid to no fewer than 4 lawyers, 2 mediators, 2 therapists, and 1 Guardian ad Litem. There were hundreds of (mostly billable) hours in discussions with professionals and just as many spent with a few friends, loved ones. Then there are still the reams of paper – physical evidence that no one can unsee. I am holding on to this but it’s under lock and key. No one should have to see as many penises and assholes outside of choreagraphed porn, which would hopefully have a decent sound track.
I know myself well enough to know that there will be major adjustments. I will not be able to love or trust for a long time. I am unsure of the damage I have suffered but I hope that this move will protect my children.
The next chapter begins.
I don’t mean to offend any government workers – but my last encounter with a government official yielded the following gem: ME: “This is the worst customer service ever! You were wrong and have wasted so much of my time where I have to prove to you that you were wrong. I don’t owe you anything.” IRS Dude: “We are not a service organization. We are a compliance bureau and it is our job to make sure you are compliant with the tax law. Send us the proof of your claim and we will evaluate and adjust your account if needed.”
Parallel situation to dealing with the Gay Husband! He is wrong and he owes me but my yelling at him will not make it hurt less or get to the end game faster.
It has taken a while but I have finally forgiven the Gay Husband. Not for being gay but for not knowing how to live an authentic life and being so weak and insecure that he couldn’t face the truth of who he was. I have forgiven him for loving his mother more than his wife and children.
Sadly, his children and I were collateral damage in attempt to protect his mother’s feelings.Yes – he was protecting his mother. Not his wife. Not his children. His choice of allegiance and loyalties not his gayness was the main source of my anger. I couldn’t fathom why would this man get married. His mother had strong religious convictions whereby the Gay Husband believed she would not love or accept him as gay. To date, his worst fears of being alienated by his mom have not come to pass. In fact, she’s embraced him and still loves him. I don’t know how difficult her path to forgiveness was, maybe she is not there yet. but on the outside all of the justification that the Gay Husband had for hiding his identity were not real.
Secondly and mostly, I was mad that I gave up my career and comfortable life for the promise of new life with him where we would own a business in his home town, geographically and emotionally isolating me from all that was familiar.
My life as I knew it is over and forgiving him at least lets me lighten my load in that I put him out of my mind. I don’t snoop, don’t ask the kids questions and have reached a point that I just don’t care. On my part, our communications now have no emotional filter and are mostly transactional in nature.