Things That I Love About My Husband and Things that I Hate About My Husband

Barring the sex addiction, I married one of the greatest men in the world. And I'm absolutely fruity about him. Really. It's true. Finding out about his sex addiction has been one of the hardest things I've ever had to deal with. Mostly because I was so fucking in love with him and thought that he was the kind of guy who could never, ever, ever do something like this.  So it's painful. And it has turned me into a very jealous and very suspicious person. It's also turned me into a woman who feels very unattractive and fears getting older.  I never feared getting older until I found out that Husband was trying to have sex with 18-22 year olds. Gross!  Now I understand that it's just fantasy, and something about pornography has told men that 30 year-old-women are actually 18 year old women so they have an unrealistic idea of what teenage girls look like. But still, ick!

I watched my very beautiful mother die young (she was 54) and for that reason, I've always believed that getting older was a blessing. Now that my Mommy is dead, and my husband is a sex addict, I have these awful fears about growing into an undesirable older woman as my husband continues to become more and more handsome. He really is. Whereas I used to get a lot of attention from men, he is now getting a lot of attention from women. I don't get as much attention from men these days. It could be the 9 months pregnant belly. I've had a lot of anxiety about my looks during this pregnancy. The worst part about it is that I'm a Psychologist who has written a book on body image. I know. It's paradoxical. It's an internal conflict that I've been dealing with for a long time. I've probably been dealing with it my whole life, but it was triggered heavily a year and a half ago. 
Believe me, I know everything I need to know intellectually about looks. Jesus Christ I counsel women on this issue every day. Yet I am riddled with self-disdain. It's so, so very painful. I try not to get angry at myself for it. I understand this psychologically, but it's like a doctor who gets angry at himself for getting sick. We're just not immune. To fucking anything.

But I digress. This isn't even where I meant to go with this post. I meant to discuss our money situation.  I love my husband because he's kind, compassionate, insightful, nurturing, loving, sexy, sweet, a genius, and he is doing so much self work. He still goes to two 12 step meetings each week, plus he goes to therapy twice a month, plus he goes to a feedback group which he shows up for each and every week no matter what. His recovery, our relationship, me and our growing family are very important to him. So that's fantastic. But... Husband does not make very much money. And we are struggling. I didn't think that at 37 years old (he 39) and with two graduate degrees between us, that we'd be having to eat pasta at night and figure out how to afford groceries, and now diapers, and all sorts of other things. It depresses me. It makes me mad. And it spills over into other parts of our lives.
This non-aggressive quiet, gentle man, who hid behind the safety of a computer, being all sorts of violent and abusive to people via cyber sex.
I don't want to complain. But we're struggling. And that's just hard.

We Bought iPhones

Like I said in the title, we bought iphones. This might not be such a big deal for the average couple, but for a couple that is 1/2 sex addict, well then iphones are a huge deal. Especially considering  Husband's acting out all happened on his computer.  He never had sex with a real live woman, but he had loads of cyber-sex and was on loads of dating sites and would meet people and talk back and forth with them and try to get women to meet him out. It never happened, but I wonder if it would have had I never caught him. He was also hugely into online porn. In fact, if I'd go away for a weekend to my parents or whatever, he'd stay home citing that he needed to study and instead he'd be in front of his computer for 20 hours straight (he later told me). He wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep, would just put a curtain up and stand at his computer looking for "women" or whoever was on the other end to talk to. He would every once in a while swap photos with them. He'd get naked pictures, or close ups of their privates and store them somewhere.  Husband has never been super smooth with the ladies, but he was a goddamned Lothario on the computer.   Which is why the idea of iphones freaked me out so much.

But we have a baby coming. And he should be here in 1-3 weeks. And we have these crappy old phones that don't work so well.  And my parents, who live 3000 miles from us, would like to see the baby as much as possible. They pleaded with us to get iphones. And to be fair, husband wanted one too. It was kind of awful because we plunked down so much money to buy them. I was up till 4am almost having a panic attack because of not just the initial investment but the crazy monthly fee. And now that I'm a lady of leisure, we only have one income until baby is 4 months old and I go back to work part time. And his income is crap. I'm kind of the breadwinner.  But like Kenny Loggins says:
Even though we ain't got money, I'm so in love with ya honey, and everything will bring a chain of love. And in the morning when I rise, you bring a tear of joy to my eyes, And tell me everything is gonna be alright. Which I heard on the radio this morning on my way to my OBGYN and it made me cry hysterically for like 2 hours.

So, because of Husband's problems with the Internet, we have an open phone policy. We're allowed to stalk each others' phones.  I miss the days when I didn't doubt him and trusted him 100%.

I wonder if we'll ever be back there.

Some Hard Stuff

So, pregnancy is not as smooth as I had imagined it would be. The husband is saying his serenity prayer over and over and I'm doing it once in a while. I've been bleeding and spotting since week five and I've had a few big bleeds that have landed me in the hospital. Turns out I have a subchorionic hematoma.


God I'm fucking pissed. I mean, I would really, really, really like to have some gratitude here. And I mostly do, but this is my fucking secret ass blog where I fucking vent all of my secret ass feelings. So fucking sue me if I fucking whine for a few minutes.

It's unfucking fair that I  suffered through years of infertility because of my husband's lack of sperm.
It's unfucking fair that he spent all of his time on the internet prowling for 18 year old slutty girls to fuck for years and I didn't know it. I'm a mother fucking psychologist for crying the fuck out loud. You would think I had some goddamned insight into my isolator/codependent husband. Now, it's fucking unfair that when some good shit starts to happen, it's tinged with this scary shit. What the fuck God? What the fuck?

Okay I'm done now. And though part of me is fucking pissed, I'm mostly grateful. And my heart is breaking for those who are suffering in Japan, and they are in my prayers.

The husband is busy working on his first step. It's unnerving because he's spending a lot of time up late working on it and I try to get to bed early because of said pregnancy and the fact that I'm on first trimester bed rest.  I'm also on pelvic rest, so no sex for my sex addict husband. Nor for me. I can't go running, I can't have sex. I have very little to calm me down. I'm overeating junk and I'm putting on weight. Not pregnant weight. Fat weight. Oh well. Again, it's okay.
I chatted with the husband the other night about how much I hate him being awake and in the other room while I am in bed. I reminds me of when he was acting out and I was told that he was up late "studying."
Oh well. That's me for now. I'll keep updating.

xo,

L

Compassion, finally.

Last night, Husband and I were cuddling in bed and he looked at me and said, "I love you," and I looked at him and sighed and said, "it's so sad that I just don't look at you the way I used to. I hate that. I used to look at you so adoringly. But now, it's wrought with so much anger, so much distrust, and so much confusion. You're just not the person I thought you were and I hate that. I used to look at you adoringly, but now, even though I still love you, I just don't have what I used to have for you. Is that hard for you? Did you like the way I used to look at you? Do you miss that?" He nodded and started crying and said, "I broke. I used to be good. And then I broke." And that's really the truth. I married this really good, sweet man. And I felt safe. I trusted that he'd always be faithful. But he somehow broke. Cracked. Couldn't live up to what he was supposed to be. He'd always been a sex addict, that I know. He had a giant porn collection that he was very possessive of when we moved in together. But doing what he did was something that no one in the world would ever have pegged my husband of doing. It's the first time I've felt any compassion for him. I've been waiting for that.

Cabbage

I somehow just managed to down a pound of cabbage and an apple for lunch. There's something about the Jewish holidays that fills me to the brim with bagels and cookies which does something to my intestines akin to brick and mortar. I went to Whole Foods with the intention of getting something healthy for lunch, like a wrap! But I saw a pound of shredded cabbage wrapped in cellophane and my mouth began to water. I try to take those bodily cues when I get them, so a pound of coleslaw and an apple it was.

Husband spent Saturday morning in services with me for Yom Kippur. I'm not some kind of super jew. In fact, I've not done anything for the Jewish Holidays since I lived at home, so, it's been a while. But, it always leaves me feeling flat, sad, and lonely, disconnected. So, this year I decided that I really needed to pray. I did a lot of going to Ashrams and Buddhist temples, and meditation retreats, because that's where I thought I belonged. But somehow, returning to synagogue is what made me really happy. It's where I felt like I belonged. The spiritual/new agey community here on this coast is where I thought I belonged. But it almost feels like competitive yoga, extreme silent meditation retreats, and a serious lack of joy. This isn't something that's super attractive to me. Although, I'd say that 90% of the people in those communities are Jewish. I need the Jewish community. It's one of the few places in life where I felt like I belonged. The problem is, husband is Catholic. So, without him, it will not feel as community-ish. He didn't go to any other services with me this holiday season, but he spent 4 hours on Saturday morning in Yom Kippur services. And for that I give him huge props. But he was confused. Lots of sitting, standing, and Hebrew. And I thought it would be easy and nice for him because it was a reform/reconstructionist congregation. Nothing like the Conservative, somber, boring all in Hebrew services that I had to go to as a kid.
We of course spoke about religion before we got married. But in practice it's weird. I'd been avoiding my faith for the years since we've been married. My faith was in him. In fact, I even made a Christmas this past year with a Christmas Tree. But my faith wasn't in my husband or in my marriage this year. I needed someplace else to feel welcome, to feel love, to feel community. Husband has his SAA meetings and I fucking hate COSA with a deep passion.
I need something bigger, something outside of myself to feel secure and to feel loved unconditionally. That's normal, that's human. That's what we're supposed to get from our parents. Husband is trying and working his program. But I don't trust his love for me. I trust his need for me. But not his love. I still don't understand how he could have done this to me if he loved me. I know it's not about it. I get that. But I also understand that all of my actions affect husband, so I try to consider him before I do what I do. After I found out about his 2 years of unfaithfulness, I stopped considering him. But that was too painful. But I have to consider myself. I don't know how this is going to play out. I don't know how I'm going to get what I need when what I need is so drastically different than what he needs. I want love, safety, community and security. The sex addict and partner of sex addict recovery world does not resonate for me. The psychospiritual community does not do it for me either. Judaism is what has been pulling me in more and more. How do I do this and still make my marriage strong? I don't want to pull away from Husband to make this happen for me, I want him to be a part of this, I want a family and a bigger family. But it's not his culture or safety zone. I don't know how to negotiate this.

Day of Attonment

I am Jewish and husband is Catholic. Tonight starts Yom Kippur, the Day of Attonment, where we atone for our sins, forgive ourselves for our sins and forgive those around us and ask god for forgiveness. I was at services tonight and the Rabbi was talking about how important forgiveness was. He said that even though the other guy who did whatever he did to you is a total schmuck, forgiveness isn't for him, it's for you. When anger stays in your body and in your heart, it makes you heavy, unhappy, bitter, resentful. When you can let go, it's not for the other guy, it's for you.

Unfortunately, I'm not there yet. I thought about it and I talked to husband about it. But I'm just not there. Husband said that he understood. The Rabbi talked about gratitude and how if you can't let go of your anger, to fill your heart for gratitude and eventually you won't have room for anger. I tried that. Here are some things I'm grateful for tonight.

1.)My cat who is laying next to me and staring at me and purring so loud that I can hear him.
2.)My apartment
3.)My career
4.)My office
5.)How few hours I have to work each week to earn a solid living.
6.)My ability to run 8 miles then still spend the night at Synagogue
7.)My really wonderful husband, even though he did stupid jerky things, he is a great human being.
8.)My parents who totally rock.
9.)My mom surviving ovarian cancer and feeling healthy now.
10.)Netflix


8.

bored...

I was talking to husband this morning about how much I dislike everything in life right now. How I have no interests and no intellectual curiosity. It's like, we have people over for dinner and I look forward to pouring wine and drinking it. We go to a wedding and I am looking forward to sipping champagne and mingling. But the idea of mingling without sipping is excruciating. I don't know what I like anymore. I think about how I come home from work in the evening looking forward to my evening glass of wine. I am sick of introspecting. I haven't drank today, but I've been bored and I've been acting out with food. Husband is trying to be supportive. I don't give a shit anymore. I just don't know what I like. I don't know what makes me happy. I am totally sick of what I do for a living. I am sick of holding everyone else's shit and pain and taking care of them and worrying about them. I am sick of coming home and not being able to take care of myself. I am sick of being a perfect mingler. I am sick of me. I don't know what I like. I am so disinterested in conversations with people. I am sick of being far from my family. I am bored. I hate our friends here. I hate being a Psychologist. I am bored. I am disenchanted and I am restless. I hate being a fucking yuppie. Of course I slipped into fantasy with young & strapping. I needed something to distract me from the fact that I'm totally fucking bored. I hate that my husband has no sperm. I hate our stupid yuppie life. I hate how we all sit around and taste wine as a facade for the fact that we're all alcoholics. But we are allowed to drink in the afternoon because it's an expensive bottle. WTF? Is there more to life? I hate how every recovering alcoholic decides that drinking is a better life than not drinking. But what's it all worth? I don't know what I want. I don't know what I need. I am lonely. I am bored. I am sad. And I feel gross for acting out with food all day. I don't know how all my food issues snuck up on me again. And I'm gaining weight now. I've been consuming and consuming and consuming. And I want to stop. Husband gets better and I get sicker. It's so sad.

Sad about me Now

As husband recovers, I feel that I'm falling deeper and deeper into messiness. I have a serious problem with alcohol. I drink almost every night, and last night I drank a ton. I am not in a 12 step program for it, but perhaps I should be. But I really don't want to. I go to my COSA meetings and I absolutely hate them. They make me want to strangle people. My husband goes to SAA meetings several times a week and I am just sick of hearing about people "in their disease."

I just want to take some responsibility for myself and my life. We're having people over for brunch next Saturday. I'm really nervous because that's when I would normally drink a ton of champagne and mimosas and be trashed for the whole day. But I'm sick of that life. I don't know how to say no to it though. I'm tired and depressed and I want this to be over already.

I guess that I've not had time to focus on me for so long when I've been so focused on husband, then on Y&S. Where am I in this? I'm sick of work. I don't know what I want or need anymore.

I need to focus on me

My body specifically. There's been a lot of beer, wine, coffee, sugar, mindless eating, some minor binge eating and junk food the last several weeks as I have been in a Y&S fog, I've been neglecting the body. And it's beginning to show. I'm tired. I'm bloated. I'm putting on some weight, my pants were totally tight on me yesterday, though, it was day 2 of my period. But, if I don't focus on something, I'm going to dwell on the fact that my husband cheated on me for two years over the internet, that I've been trying to get pregnant for longer than anyone I know, and all the people who started after me are on their second kids now, that I hate where we live, that we're in crazy debt. That chemicals in my brain made me fall in love with a soldier whom I have no visual memory of. I don't want to think about any of that. So instead, I'm going to take the month of September and commit to detoxing and healthy body.

So, here are the parameters.

1.)Alcohol is limited to weekends. No more than one glass of wine without food. No more than 2 glasses of wine with food. No more than 3 glasses of wine in one day.

2.)Recommit to PCOS low carb diet. No sugar, no junk food, no processed carbs.

3.)Some kind of vegetable at every meal.

4.)Water, water, water. Lots of water.

5.)Recommit to water.

6.)Try to do yoga 3 times a week.

7.)Meditate in the mornings.

8.)Continue training for the half marathon that I've been training for.

9.)No diet soda, splenda, or other artificial sweeteners.

10.)Try to drink tea in the AM instead of coffee. If it is coffee, go for organic.



That's it and that's enough.

I know that sometimes focusing in rather than out can be helpful for me.

Husband and I are doing okay. I was trying to tell him more about Y&S last night, about all the feelings that got me. He tried to listen, but it was hard for him. He said that he can really understand about getting lost in fantasy since that's what happened to him with the sex addiction for all those years. But mine was although also fantasy, a love fantasy. Where I imagined that this boy would take me away from my world of infidelity and infertility. But really, what would the boy do? Bring me into a world of sitting around drinking without any interesting conversation? Probably.

I don't really know what this post is about.

Last night I sliced my finger while cutting celery. It hurts. It was a deep cut. Me and husband had just come home from camping and I was making him chicken salad to bring to work for lunch today. But he left it home today. Forgot it. We're back to being husband and wife again. My feelings for Y&S are settling down and I'm trying to renegotiate a life with husband. He hugged me for a long time last night and told me that he was scared sometimes that I was going to leave him. Sometimes I feel like leaving him, but I don't know why. I want something different. Yet I don't want anyone else but him. I do, but I don't. I know that we were meant for each other. I know that we're working things out and all of this stuff is a blessing in a certain way. Even his SA and me and Y&S. We had to blow the myth that our relationship was perfect and our lives were perfect out of the water. Because our relationship was boring and our lives were boring. Something has to change now.

Real Love Vs. Fake Love

Real love is deep, lasting, and unpainful. Fake love is a quick flash in the pain that feels like being drunk. Then you have a hangover. Then it's over. The problem with real love vs. fake love is that fake love is so intense and uncomfortable, that next to real love, it becomes confusing. And real love doesn't feel like real love anymore because it doesn't have that edge. My cat is standing next to me purring right now. I can't seem to get out of bed today and it's approaching noon. Crap. It just turned noon. Time to put on my new running shoes and go for a run.

I think that's the thing about love addiction. It's those weird chemicals that are released at the beginning. We can't get those back in a long term deeply felt relationship. Yet, I think I had that with husband right when I found out about his SA. I was angry, rejected, depressed, uncomfortable. And all I wanted to do was have sex with him. I was turned on constantly. Fake love. Then, as he got stronger in his program and in his recovery, it began to fade. Then Y&S came along. And I redirected all that libidinal energy toward him and the fantasy of him. Fake love. And now, I am hungover from it. And waiting to feel better. And my love for husband feels far away. But not because it is, but because I'm comparing fake love to real love. For husband I have real love. For Y&S I had fake love. And, it was all in my screwed up little head beautiful, complex and sensitive mind. Comparing the two is like comparing the high you get from looking at a beautiful sunset on the beach to staying up all night doing lines of coke and drinking tequila. One is beautiful, healthy, and long lasting. The other is dangerous, depressing, and intense. But if you really are craving a high, you're going to opt for the latter. All you can do after that night is recover.

Oh Yeah

After I finished telling husband everything, and he couldn't quite process it all and wouldn't talk about his anger or sadness or anything, and could barely sit and listen to it... I asked him if he had any questions. He looked at me and said, "did you tell the army kid that he should go to AA?" so very sweet. He then asked me if we could go to the sports authority and buy new camping equipment. We did. I pointed out that compulsive shopping probably wasn't the way to process. He said he thought it was a good way. So, $400 and a new tent later, we're going camping next weekend. Barf. I hate camping. But. Oh well. It'll be good.

I have been thinking though, of course I didn't tell Y&S that he should go to AA. And my ex, T*****, who definitely should have been in a 12 step program, I never told him either. And this is why-- men who are alcoholics and drug addicts are easy to control, easy to manipulate and incredibly predictable in their unpredictability. Like I still know that all these years later, (we broke up in early 2003 and haven't seen each other since then) that T***** is still in love with me. Or thinks he is. I always felt invested in my significant other's fuck uped ness because it kept them mine. Weird. I'm happy I married Husband. He might not be perfect, but he's great. And our relationship will survive.

I this dream last night that I was on a gambling trip in Vegas with Madonna, Paul Rudd, Roseanne, and some extras. Paul Rudd was in love with Madonna, and she was totally mean to him. So he took off and left, with only a note that said, "it's too painful with her here rejecting me." And he left. And I was counting my money and missing him deeply. And then I began weeping, thinking about how sad I was that he was gone, thinking about how much I missed him and how poorly I treated him because I was trying to impress Madonna, but how Madonna was just kind of a jerk. Then I woke up (late) this morning, all teary and sad. My cat was pawing at my face. I realized that this was my fear about my husband leaving me. I called him and told him that I loved him and I wanted us to stay together and I didn't want us to cheat on each other anymore. He said he wanted the same thing and he loved me too. And so it goes. I still find myself recovering from the insanity that was August 9 - August 21.
I talked to a psychic in June. I thought she was insane and wrong and a waste of money. But she told me that something significant was going to happen in August that shook things up. I asked her what. She said she didn't know, but I'd know when it happened. Yeah, I guess that this is it. This was significant.

The Way We Were

Me and Husband spent our Saturday night eating pizza, drinking beer, and watching "The Way We Were" in bed with my while I sobbed shamelessly. He also spent his first 4 waking minutes watching the Sex & the City "the Way We Were" Carrie/Hubble/Big redux on YouTube this morning with nary a complaint. Now that's love. Husband wiped my tears and held me. We are all broken. But at least I have him. I wish my love for him would come back. I lost it in the last few weeks. Though I know it's real and it's there. I just can't seem to find it.

So, I went ahead and sent Y&S a text this morning. I know that he's finally gone from this coast. I think he left some time during the last 24 hours. He stopped communicating with me for the most part after his 25 missed calls on Thursday night. I assume he was embarrassed. Or he's just fucking sick of me chasing him. And so I sent him a goodbye text. I feel mostly relieved that he's gone. His presence around here made me fucking insane. Here was my super codependent text:

i hope that you had a good flight back and didn't meet any scary cougars on the plane. I was pretty humbled and surprised by the fact that you didn't change your mind about meeting up with me. But I respect that you wanted to stay away from what you might have thought was a messy situation. Good luck with your life. Be careful out there. I will keep you in my prayers. I know that you won't understand this, but I feel blessed to have met you. You helped me put my life and marriage into perspective and sort through some things that I needed to look at. I owe you one, so call if you ever need to talk. I'm a good listener. I know from experience that people who think too much and feel too much tend to drink too much. So, be gentle with yourself and be good to yourself. I had 25 missed calls from you the other night with no messages- it made me giddy. You are like crack, one small taste of you just caused me to figure out how to get more. With that, I am letting you go. Farewell sweet boy.

Afterwards, I sat down with husband and told him everything. EVERYTHING! Except for when Y&S said that he'd impregnate me and we'd be lovers forever, because that's the kind of thing husband doesn't need to know. But I told him the important stuff, all the fucked up feelings I felt. All the weird fake love feelings and desperation and how I kept calling Y&S and tried to get him to see me. I was crying hysterically. Husband could barely hear it. He kept trying to get up and get coffee or walk away. I asked him why he kept walking away. He said that he was having a lot of trouble hearing it. In the end he said that he could understand what happened. And that he understands getting lost in fantasy. And being in a fog. He said he's angry and sad. But he's having trouble processing it all. He says that he knows me and how involved I get in people in pain. And that he loves me. It was good. I think we're gonna make it.

Dear Young & Strapping,

yes, I actually slept with my phone next to my bed, under a book where Husband didn't notice it. The way I have been for the past 13 days, since I get my texts and missed calls from you in the middle of the night when I'm sleeping, when you're drunk. I used to wake up to ex bf's texts and calls too. I know that you are back and I'm happy about that. I wish I'd gotten to see you mostly so I can fucking forget about you. Because in my head, you are larger than life. I see something about soldiers and I begin to think about you. I saw this and I became aroused. I mean, really, it shows how odd the obsession is. And you didn't even go to Iraq. Oh young soldier. You really helped me not be obsessed with my husband's sex addiction. Because now I'm obsessed with you. I think that I'm obsessed with being obsessed. It's either money, or pregnancy, or whatever. I hate it. I wish I weren't so attached to outcome and to my wants. I know that I'll never see you or hear from you again. Which again, is probably the best thing. But I fucked myself up in the head with you. I'm sorry for my long confusing texts that answered your, "we ate awesome food and did karaoke, got so hammered, i don't even know how we got home last night," and I answered you with wordy prose about compulsions, neil diamond and tequila on the rocks (in reference to neil diamond's 'Love on the Rocks') with lots of lime. In my courtship ritual with Husband, we sent long and beautiful emails back and forth to each other. We wrote silly stories that were long, winding, ridiculous and it created a language of our own. You are not Husband. But somehow, I acted as if you were. Holding up my end of the courtship ritual, as well as yours. Oh Sweet boy, you're smart, I can tell that for sure. But you're not what I want or what I need. I have become obsessed with a fantasy. I miss you. I wish you didn't stop texting me after Friday night. But now I need to return to my life. Find some balance with husband. Everything is so weird.

Oh yeah, that's it.

I finally figured out what it is about this boy that's making me so crazy. And it only took me 9 days and an advanced degree in Psychology. First off, I met boy at an airport bar. And he was drinking a lot. And then we ordered drinks on the plane. He finished 2 in the time that I finished half of one. And ladies, I am not a slow drinker. In fact, I can suck down three beers in the time that husband has taken two sips of one. I'm not exaggerating here. So, young boy is sucking down cocktails and looking sexier and sexier to me. Is it just my vodka goggles? No! Of course not! It's my codependency goggles! Oh yeah. Those things. Anyway, young boy told me all about his Dad leaving he and his mom and his brother, told me all about his girlfriend leaving him and moving in with someone else, told me all about how he still thinks about her all the time and how sad he is. And I was in love with young boy. Now, what I know is that when you fall in love with someone like that, it's not that you're falling in love with them. It's that you're triggering something very, very, familiar. Husband is not an alcoholic. But ex-boyfriend is. Ex boyfriend who I was with from age 22-29 who would get so drunk, then cry about horrible things that occurred in his childhood. Oh and I loved exboyfriend. I loved him with a passion. It was the most crazy co-dependent relationship in the world. I took care of him, enabled him, loved him while he treated me like shit. And in the end left him. It's 7 years later and he's still in love with me. He's drunk himself into an isolated hole and won't talk to me, (though I still want to save him) but his friends report back to me that he's not doing well and that he still loves me and isn't over me. Tell the lady what she's won. It's not that I fell in love with young strapping lad. It's that I wanted to save him. Oh. Yeah. That. It took me a while to realize it though. And stalking and sleuthing. He made this comment over text about how he can't get together with me again, and he knows it's stupid, but he has all this guilt built up inside of him, and it always happens and he thinks that's why he feels the need to drink. Oh yeah. And then, I'm ashamed to admit it, but I ran a background check on him this morning and found that he had 2 DUIs before the age of 21. None since. But still. Brother is a full on alcoholic. And I am a full on codie. And it felt familiar and right and wonderful and painful and I wanted him so bad that I couldn't sleep at night. I needed husband to get into my sleeping pill stash for me. It's funny. I was trying to figure out why I was so inexplicably drawn to young and strapping. I kept thinking it was because he was so young and beautiful and sexy. But it's certainly not the first time that I've had the opportunity to have sex with someone sexier than my husband. But it's the first time I felt unable to refuse. I felt powerless. My draw to him was insane. I know that if we'd hooked up, it wouldn't have ended there. It would be a very long, very passionate, very, very, very messy relationship. I don't think it would have ended my marriage. But I think that it would have completely distracted me from my life, which it has completely done over the past week and a half. Seriously. I've only been thinking about him. It's all the classic codependency stuff. It's weird because I'm not like this with Husband. He and I have a more adult, more evolved relationship. It doesn't (and never did) have this level of charge and intensity. This felt crazy intense. I don't want to sleep with him anymore because I know that I'm confusing sex and sexual attraction with my deep need to take care of him. I want to be friends with him and offer myself as a friend to him because I truly do like him. He's great. But I'm not doing anything any time soon until I get some distance from it. And of course I have to tell husband about all this at some point. We have couples counseling today. But I think I need to wait until young and strapping has left this side of the country to tell husband. I'm too strung out right now.

Oh, and I should mention, in the midst of all this, I emailed ex-boyfriend and told him that I was thinking about him and I was here if he needed to talk.

Oh me. *le sigh...

It's Still there

I've still not stopped thinking about young and strapping lad. I keep hoping that he'll change his mind and send me a text. I know that I could probably text him and convince him, but I am not going to do that. This feeling that I have is so desperate and feels so awful. Poor husband. I've completely detached from him and he feels that he has to woo me back and doesn't know how to do that. So he's feeling desperate too. Clearly I'm not in love with young and strapping lad. But I feel like I am. Which is silly. When I called him, he had this voicemail message which was very much like the kind of message some young stud would have. "Yo whattup-- it's ***** you know whatta do! PEACE!" And as I said, I don't even remember what he looks like. But the feelings! Oh the feelings! And the desperation! Oh the desperation. I feel like a teenager. I was reminded of being 19 and once making out with this guy that I made out with in a club and then stalking him for months and trying to find him and find out as much information as I could about him. But I never found him again. I did the same thing with young and strapping last night. I didn't even know his last name. But last night, I used the power of the internet and 9.95 to find it out so I could sleuth a little more. Sleuthing was fruitless. I think that me and husband are more alike than I am willing to admit. He would find girls (without pictures!) on adult friend finder and stalk them all over the internet. Stalk them on 43 things! See if he could find them, but not try to talk to them, just see what he could find out. His fantasies were of a sexual nature, mine are of a romantic nature. It is easier when I observe than when I follow the feelings. Following them is devastating. It pulls me into this wretched place. I think he's leaving at the end of the week. I keep having the desire to text him and tell him I'm going to drive him to the airport. Just because I want to see him again. But again, I'm going to do my best to let it all pass. Oh us. Oh, me and husband. We are really such a pair.

So it turns out that I can be an asshole too.

I have never cheated on husband. I've had opportunities. Many. But I've never crossed that line because I love him and we took vows. It was just closed to me. Unfortunately, I didn't realize this because the opportunity hadn't presented itself, but that line somehow unconsciously opened after I found out about his sex addiction.
I went to another coast to visit my folks. The plane was delayed on the way back and I wound up sitting at the airport bar with this very dreamy boy, almost ten years my junior. And we drank. A lot. And then we drank more. Then we figured out a way to sit together on the plane. Where I told him all about my husband's internet adventures and how he was looking for women to sleep with on the internet and the cyber sex and how hurt I was and how I thought we had the perfect marriage, but it turned out to be something different. Then I told him about our issues with infertility and my husband's sperm count and how he Then we drank vodka. Then we were kissing. A lot. Then we were somehow planning the next 50 years together. We decided that we were going to be lovers till we were 80 (till he was 80 and I was 89). We decided that he was going to knock me up. He was here visiting some friends for a few weeks. We decided that when we woke up the next morning we'd have sex. I texted him in the morning telling him that my conscience gave my libido a stern talking to and that it wasn't a good idea. He said that he understood and that was it. So then I went to therapy and sorted through it with my shrink. That only made me decide that I wanted to do it. I don't know why. The whole thing brought so much shit up for me in so many different ways that I need to sort through. But this is what I'll say, it quickly went from sex to being totally emotional for me. I think that's because I'm a woman. So, we texted again and made a plan for a rendezvous. And it was planned. I told him that sex was off the table for me and that he should know that straight off the bat. But that I wanted to see him again. And he said that he wanted to see me again too. So we planned to meet a few days later. And so, the morning I woke up, I didn't chicken out. I really wanted to see him. I was giddy with excitement, but nervous. I was shaking and sweating. But I texted him. And he shot me down. He said that he felt like a scum bag and that he didn't think it was alright to do it. And he felt like he was using me it made him feel horrible. And he begged me not to be mad at him. Mad at him? Jeez. I was relieved. But then, all of a sudden it kicked in. I was rejected. It felt awful and continues to feel awful. I know that this is for the best. But all of a sudden, I'm feeling incredibly retraumatized and depressed. Husband thinks it's him. I told one girlfriend who thinks that it is about husband and that I'm sad about this boy but i'm not, i'm really sad about husband and it's easier and safer to be sad about a stranger. Truth of the matter is, I was so drunk when I was with said boy, that I was in and out of a blackout. I don't even remember what he looks like. Yet, I can't stop thinking about him. And I know that I'm obsessed with a fantasy. Of someone who could sweep me off my feet and take me away from this world of infertility and infidelity and deception and debauchery. But wasn't that what I was doing with this boy? This has nothing to do with him. Since I've been a little girl, I've looked to a man to save me. I've fallen in love more times than I can count. I am a love addict. I become obsessed with the fantasy of people rather than with actual people. And then my emotions spin wildly out of control. I want this boy to leave town so I can recover from this experience. He's leaving at the end of the week. Thank goodness. Yet I find myself hoping that he will change his mind and text me. I know that this is unreal, yet the feeling of heartbreak feels so real. Husband gets high off of the sex chemicals, me, wife, gets safe off of love chemicals. I pine for them. I used to pine away for men/boys all the time. From the time I was in 2nd grade with Ben Farber. Then, when husband became a sex addict, i felt rejected and was traumatized. Now, I am retraumatized again. I want my marriage to work. I hate my emotions. I am just so sad and depressed right now.

Why do you love me?

Husband still can't seem to tell me why he loves me. He can sort of, but he can't seem to mirror the very essence of me. He tells me that I'm smart and funny and he likes being with me and he loves me, and it's just a feeling he has and he knows. Yet, I need him to look at me and say something like, "the way you are with people makes me swoon. When I see you rubbing the cat's belly, I know what a warm and compassionate person you are. When you give money to homeless people, I know that you have a good heart and I love that. When people gravitate toward you for help and advice, I feel proud that your my wife. When you meet people in the street and help them out a bit, I know that you are intuitive and kind and it's heartwarming to me." Or something like that. I want to know that he's watching me and that he sees what I do. I want to know that he likes about me what I like about myself. I want to know that he sees in me things that I don't see in myself. I know that I'm smart and funny and kind. That's not why my husband loves me. That's just normal human being traits. Many people are kind and compassionate and smart and funny. But he's not married to all of them. It hurts me because it makes me feel unspecial, unseen, and replaceable. It makes me feel as though he loves me because it's convenient. I could write a 200,000 word monologue on why I love my husband. Yes, still. Despite the fact that I hate him and I'm dangerously angry at him right now, I still love him. He's a great guy. But I need more. I fucking need more.

From The Poop Deck

So husband went under general anesthesia on Friday to have the varicocele (varicose vein in his left nut) repaired so that he can start making some sperm. He was in surgery only for a few hours and then came home with a goody bag of percocet, codeine and vicodin. Husband isn't in the habit of taking pills. He does 1-2 glasses of pinot most nights, and occasionally gets drunk, but he's never taken drugs (even weed! wtf?) and so they affect him in the most curious way. The way everything affected him after his surgery was a great deal of constipation. Yup, husband was full of shit. Every night he would take a few of the stool softeners that the doctor gave him and every morning-- nothing! So, finally on Sunday, I gave him some smooth move tea to help him go. But the smooth move gave him spasms, but no poop. I told him to go sit on the toilet and relax. So he did, but nothing came out and husband began to panic. The longer he sat, the more he panicked. He began pounding glasses of water. He had like 5 or 6 giant glasses of water, but dude was so panicked that his sphincter muscles started to jam up, locking all the shit up inside of his intestines. Husband starts screaming for me. I walk into the bathroom and find him standing over the toilet completely naked, a look of terror on his face.

"You need to take me to the emergency room!" he screams.
"Um, why are you naked?" I ask him
"Just call 911, we have to go to the emergency room!"
"Wait. Can you at least put some underwear on?"
"No, I can't! I need to poop and I'm gonna poop all over myself but nothing's coming out. I think I'm going to explode, you need to take me to the emergency room."
"Wait. So why are you naked?"
At this point, I can barely keep a straight face. He looks totally pathetic, standing over the toilet naked, his belly all distended, toilet paper in hand and um, leaky ass... I was thinking "really? really this guy wanted to have sex with other women?" I was so annoyed and amused at the same time. thinking about what if the 22 year old bimbos could see him like this.
"I'm not taking you to the emergency room."
"how come?"
"because people don't die from constipation. I think you're having a panic attack, tell me where the emergency xanax is" (he hides the emergency xanax because unlike him, I do like drugs).
He took a xanax and I offered to read to him while he sat on the toilet. So he sat and relaxed and I laid in the bathtub reading him the biggest piece of shit book I've ever read-- Dave Ramsey's Total Money Makeover. Anyway, low and behold, the combination of xanax and Dave Ramsey made his ass explode and for that I'll always be thankful to Dave Ramsey. And by the way.. psssst... stock tip. If you can, buy some shares in Preparation H. i think we might make you rich.

I dined and dashed

Yeah. I did. It was a bit more than a month ago. I was on my way to therapy and I decided to get breakfast at a diner next door. My bill (for a couple of eggs and a cup of coffee) came to 11.25. I was so angry and resentful. When I gave the waitress my debit card, she told me that their credit card machine wasn't working and could I go get cash from the ATM. I told her that I had no time right now, but would be back later. Well, I didn't go back. I was angry at the waitress, angry at my therapist, angry at my husband, angry at everyone. It's been haunting me with joyous delight for more than a month. I knew that I should send them money, but I didn't want to. Anyway, yesterday, reluctantly and annoyedly, I put a $20 bill in the mail with an anonymous note telling them that I dined and dashed, and telling them the date and the time and a description of the waitress, asking that she please get her tip. So, she was getting a 77.777% tip instead of the 20% tip I would have left her if I stayed. I'm not justifying my action. In fact, I did that because I didn't have small change, just a $20 on me. I didn't send the money in because I felt a deep sense of moral obligation. I did it in the end because it was the right thing to do. I didn't believe that if I did it, things in my life that were going wrong would right themselves.

See, I came from a belief system that when you did good things, you were protected from bad things. If I was good, kind, took care of people, was loving, overtipped, etc. etc. that I wouldn't get sick, that I'd make money, that life would be good. When I found out that husband was out buying condoms and looking for 22 year olds to have sex with, and having violent, masochistic, cybersex with women on the internet, well then that theory was shot to hell. How could this happen to me? I'm a good person. I don't think that being a good person can protect you from the pain and suffering of life. So, why do we choose to be good? I don't know. My husband certainly didn't. He came from a similar belief system too, yet he still actively decided to stray and to cheat on me. He chose to be bad. And still, he doesn't have consequences. Sure, I'm angry at him, but he got away with it for 2 years and in the end, I didn't leave him. What good is being good? Why do good things happen to people who do bad things and vice-versa?

I have to figure out what the point in being good is. It didn't feel good to send the diner the money. It felt better to think that I'd gotten away with something. That felt good. Is that the same with husband? Was being with me better when he was getting away with something? Was cheating on me awesome because there's no real benefit to being good?

If I were following the blog formula, I'd have formulated an answer for the question, why be good? But I don't have an answer. I was a good a great wife and I got cheated on for 2 years. My goodness didn't come back to me. What's the point?