Tearing at the Fabric

Of the space-time continuum


Hanging on the telephone

Debbie Harry knew.

BG just called, and we spoke for over two hours.

I’m not a huge phone girl. Can text and message for hours, but actual talking? Not so much. Somehow, BG does this. I can’t imagine talking on the phone to anyone for more than ten or fifteen minutes. But he and I do. I guess that’s the tyranny of distance. It’s pretty lovely.

We discussed his work issues, his PA, and what she said to him today. Which I blushed about at this end of the phone. His job is stressful, and she said, “you should get out of this industry, you’ve got a really lovely woman now, you shouldn’t be working this hard, the hours you do are ridiculous. I hope you don’t lose her over a stupid job.”

I don’t mind. I know who he is, and what drives his workaholism. It’s not like it robs me of him really, I live apart from him. We don’t – and will never have – a young family. There’s no resentment. I’m good alone. I do miss him though. So his phone and video calls are really helpful.

And I’m used to a partner who works a lot. Roger was often still out on the farm to 7 or 8pm. I’m pretty resilient and independent.

BG does get quite manic though. About work issues. I can’t imagine how he let off steam on his own, because he loves to do that with me, deconstructing problems together.

I also shared my latest challenge. I’ve seen a job I am in the process of applying for. I angst like a MOFO over cover letters. This one is challenging. Is the school manager for a brand new faculty at my nearby city’s university. Getting through the ten page job description, and trying to pick out key attributes, skills and experience, to condense into a single page…ugh. Hopefully I’ll have it sorted by tomorrow.

It’s nice to have someone to share this stuff with. Not essential. Not in any way. But he builds me up. I am terrified about job applications. But he and my recruitment friend, Sam, both put me at ease about the role, saying the job was made for me, I’m a shoe in (I’m not!) and encouraged me to write succinctly, with clarity about my apparently unprecedented suitability for this role.

I played second fiddle to Rog. So my confidence is a bit shot. I know deep inside me that I am clever, capable, worthy. But the messages my brain learned from Rog are that I’m stupid, incapable and not good enough. Pushing through that BS is hard work.

I haven’t applied for a job in over a year, having not seen one that motivates me to give up my four day work week! This one does. And is a significant pay increase, likely to put my salary up to just shy of 6 figures. Not bad for a dummy mummy. It’s worth a shot. Because the franchise thing looks like there might be a wait of a year or two at least. If I’m even interested, after talking to the franchise rep.

Ugh. Life is a bit tricky at the moment. Feel churned up and unsure.

I’m in the phone booth, it’s the one across the hall
If you don’t answer, I’ll just ring it off the wall
I know he’s there, but I just had to callDon’t leave me hanging on the telephone
Don’t leave me hanging on the telephoneI heard your mother, now she’s going out the door
Did she go to work or just go to the store?
All those things she said, I told you to ignore
Oh, why can’t we talk again?
Oh, why can’t we talk again?
Oh, why can’t we talk again?Don’t leave me hanging on the telephone
Don’t leave me hanging on the telephoneIt’s good to hear your voice, you know it’s been so long
If I don’t get your calls, then everything goes wrong
I want to tell you something you’ve known all alongDon’t leave me hanging on the telephoneI had to interrupt and stop this conversation
Your voice across the line gives me a strange sensation
I’d like to talk when I can show you my affection
Oh, I can’t control myself
Oh, I can’t control myself
Oh, I can’t control myselfDon’t leave me hanging on the telephoneHang up and run to me
Oh, hang up and run to me
Oh, hang up and run to me
Oh, hang up and run to me
Oh, oh, oh, oh, run to me, yeah



I have had to have some valuations done on some of my properties, and it’s been really interesting. I’m bragging big time about this, because I was a bit worried about buying in a strong market, then when Covid first hit, I worried the bottom would drop out and I would take a hit.

So, didn’t happen. In fact, our real estate market is ridiculously strong. Unaffordable really. It kind of embarrasses me. My “justification” is that my retirement was halved by a couple of cheaters. I needed to grow my equity to afford to live past retirement.

My home property has increased in value by half a million (just over three years) and the others have increased in value by an average of 24%.

Of course, this means nothing unless I sell. And I don’t plan on that for a few years yet. However, I am looking at buying a business. Unexpectedly, I am looking seriously at a franchised business, and am meeting with the franchise manager (or whatever her title is) this Friday. Having more equity in property is a good thing insofar as that endeavour goes. Or, I may need to sell one to finance the purchase and set up costs. Watch this space.

Some of my kids have had me thinking a bit this weekend. About being children of infidelity. Unfaithful parents. As all four of us are.

As is my barman.

I was asked, “what do you reckon Trinket’s kids think?” Another answered, “they think Roger (they always refer to him, to me at least, as Roger, never Dad) is awesome. That it doesn’t matter that he cheated on Mum, made her sick – lied to us all – because their mother is happy.

Like, fuck everyone else, our family is the most important.”


I said that we can’t change other people, or what they think. That whilst we know how disordered all of that thinking is, it is their normal. “Our mum is the best, fuck yours.”

So, I got reading, wondering what the heck the children of an affair partner think. What they learn.

There is a plethora of information about kids of infidelity, including adult kids.

“Infidelity—and the divorce that often follows—is a legacy passed from one generation to the next. As adults, these children of infidelity are more likely to be unfaithful to their own partner, and children of divorced parents have a higher than average divorce rate as adults.

Jennifer Harley Chalmers, Ph.D., Surviving an Affair, believes one of the important lessons children learn when a parent is unfaithful is thoughtlessness: “doing what you please, regardless of how it affects other people.”

Research by Judith Wallerstein, co-author of The Unexpected Legacy of Divorce, shows that experiencing parental divorce during childhood has a sleeper effect. The worst symptoms often appear when children of divorce leave home and try to form intimate relationships and families of their own, but do so with much less ability to trust and little idea of what a lasting marriage looks like. Ana Nogales’s study, reported in Parents Who Cheat: How Children and Adults Are Affected When Their Parents Are Unfaithful, indicates that this sleeper effect applies similarly to children of infidelity.”

But, try to find information about kids whose parent was single but chose to have an affair with a married/committed person. To break up an intact family. Where are their voices? Pretty tough to find anything, to be honest. So easy to justify shitty behaviour.

I was affected by my parents’ divorce, due to infidelity, more than I knew at the time. I was off to uni, and basically, it felt like “how does that affect me” was at play. Their lives. Meh. Mine was just heading off on a new, exciting trajectory.

But the reality is, I know I often sat in my hostel room, thinking it was all a bad dream. I had good parents, who appeared to love each other. So WTAF??? How does that break?

I knew I would never marry then.

I knew I would be extra careful if I fell in love, and communicate clearly that cheating was not okay, and leave if I was ever disrespected and put in danger in that way. I REALLY thought I had vetted Rog really carefully. That he was a good guy. That he loved me VERY deeply.

I knew sex for me was about deep love. Commitment. Connection. I am the world’s biggest cheerleader for those who love fantastic, consenting casual sex. I knew I couldn’t do it.

It SUCKS that he played me! Heard all my fears, my “bottom lines,” pretended to be empathetic and understanding, and fucked me over for his own pleasure anyway.

I know BG has asked himself many of these questions, too. I mean, I think there was always some kind of … feel(?) about their father, they certainly didn’t know he was a long term cheater, but once he left their mother after over 40 years of marriage, in their 70s, for the younger 30-year-affair partner, there were things that came out. BG recalls being a small boy, maybe 5 or 6, and his Dad was supposed to be watching him, but he saw him fucking one of his staff members… so that made a bit more sense, in has 30s, when his Dad dumped the faithful, loving wife for the utterly horrific whore. He asks himself often if he is his father’s son. Is that why he never married? Maybe. He knows he didn’t form deep connections with women. He dated, and was mostly kind, but he never let himself fall in love, or he chose women he was never going to love?

I find it quite fascinating, because he is reticent, but at the same time, is incredibly good to me. I feel loved. But it has taken a lot of time for that to feel like it is real, and I can trust it. He is the opposite of Rog, he is the anti-love bomber! Holds back. He’s been hurt. Deeply. By both his Dad, and then by the only other woman he let his guard down around. It is interesting if he ever talks about her (rare) as he can now see the red flags. Her insistence on him not being with his friends, not participating in some of the fun (naughty) things they do, her vetting and deleting all the women in his life (several have told me they never saw him those four years, as she wouldn’t allow their friendships.)

Children Of Infidelity—How They Hurt, And How They Heal

MARILYN: If two people are in a committed relationship, they owe it to one another to be honest. If they cannot stay committed, they need to extricate themselves from the relationship before pursuing other relations. The consequences of acting otherwise are tremendous—especially when children are involved. When a man is unfaithful to his wife, he is being unfaithful to his children as well. How will the children ever trust again? What kinds of relationships will they have? Will they bring unfaithfulness into their own relationships because that’s their experience in their own family and that’s what they expect?

Ana Nogales, Ph.D., author of Parents Who Cheat: How Children and Adults Are Affected When Their Parents Are Unfaithful, coined the term “children of infidelity” to identify children of any age whose parent or parents engage in one or more acts of infidelity. As permissive as society has become, most children are badly hurt by a parent’s infidelity because, like the betrayed parent, they feel betrayed.

More than 800 grown children whose parents were unfaithful responded to Nogales’s online Parents Who Cheat survey.

  • 88.4% felt angry toward the cheating parent.
  • 62.5% felt ashamed or embarrassed.
  • 80.2% felt that it influenced their attitudes toward love and relationships.
  • 70.5% said their ability to trust others had been affected.
  • 83% stated that they feel people regularly lie.
  • 86% reported they still believe in monogamy.

By and large, adult children of infidelity know, from experience, the extent to which a family suffers with a parent’s betrayal, and so do not want to follow in their unfaithful parent’s steps. A 2007 survey found 93% respondents rated faithfulness as the single most important component of a successful marriage.

Nogales’s survey confirms that children feel betrayed when a parent betrays a spouse. While the betrayed parent may not expect anything from the cheating spouse, their child is left with hopeful expectations as well as a host of fears. Children often find themselves in a nightmare that offers few viable options. One option is to accept the unacceptable: that they have been betrayed by their parent, and hope that by doing this they will ensure their parent’s love and attention. Another option is to express their outrage, and in doing so risk being abandoned by a person whose love they so desperately want and need. Whether six, sixteen, or twenty-six years of age at the time of a parent’s infidelity, these children are left with psychological issues that—unresolved—can plague them throughout their life.

This is my experience.

This is my children’s experience. They’re cynical. Quietly angry. Don’t trust easily. Two of the three actively avoid relationships, to avoid the “inevitable” lies. I can’t fix that. But I do try to encourage them to see that just because this happened to me, to their beloved grandmother, doesn’t mean they need to feel cursed. That is hard to deliver with any gravitas, as look at what happened to trusting ole Mum. And Biddy.

But, what do the whore’s kids really think? That infidelity is okay if you get what you want?

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Active relaxer

I’m at the beach. On a beautiful winter’s weekend.

I’ve chilled out big time. Olympic eventing has occupied me in front of the telly. Beach walks with the dogs, moody skies …

I’ve also cooked. Yesterday, I baked a huge savoury vegetarian philo pastry dish, and a couple of other yummy dinners and breakfasts.

BG worked today, and I washed, line dried and folded three loads of washing. He cleaned his house, and I helped, mopping floors, etc. He is mad with me for cooking and cleaning, lol.

I was up this morning, prepping a Vietnamese slow cooked beef dish.

“What are you doing?! Get back in bed, I wanna make you a cup of tea!”

I laughed. Oh. “Cup of tea, is it? Riiiiight. I like this. It’s nice having someone to cook for. The kids say I’m an active relaxer. Cooking chills me out.”

He laughed, “you’re weird.”

Hell yeah! Weird AF! You chose me. Loser!

My baby girl interviewed for a new role last Friday. And was told she was the preferred cadidate on Monday. Friday they offered her the job. My little ball of anxiety freaked out, “oh man, I love my (current) workmates!” But, after I said, “just breathe, write a pros and cons list,” she negotiated a higher salary. In fact, the email request was approved in minutes, with the recruiter saying the employer knew she was a high value recruit and said yes straight away.

So good. A 12% pay increase, and it’s in the field her degree is in, and in an area she has expressed interest in for some years. She’s doing a graduate diploma as she works, in a related field. This is her in, to the industry she wants to be involved in.

This gain a life thing is going okay.


Why Betrayal is so Devastating

Don’t Lose Hope writes a comforting and insightful blog, that I personally find such a help in my healing journey.

I know many people have zero idea about the pain. The devastation. And how damn long betrayal affects us for. I read all kinds of things about recovery. One popular theory is that it takes half as long as the relationship was, to “heal.”

Oh God! 15 years! That’s nearly 12 more!!!

I am of the opinion that we are probably never “healed” from this, just “healing.” I believe it will be a lifetime of this. HealING. As long as it is moving in that direction, I guess I can live with that. 🤷‍♀️

The post. Why is betrayal so devastating?

All of her points are spot on. But these are the ones that are particularly achy, for me. Firstly, how Rog didn’t love or value me, because, I totally adored him, he was my most valued person ever. Ugh.

1. It comes from people you trust. People you believed were trustworthy. People who had led you to believe that they were trustworthy.

2. It comes from people you have loved, taken a chance with, and made yourself vulnerable to. This is a great privilege. We don’t make ourselves vulnerable to everyone.

3. You were betrayed by someone you treated well. You gave them respect. You gave them your time. You cared about them. You sent the message that they were important and mattered to you. But they sent the message that you weren’t important, and didn’t matter to them.

Yeah. I gave everything. And it meant nothing to him.

Then, what it has done to me about trust. Not just other people, but I no longer trust myself. My gut. My intuition.

I did intuit that something wasn’t right. I did feel the “friendship” with Leanne was not okay. But he ABSOLUTELY convinced me that I was losing my mind, he was super trustworthy, loved me entirely, and would NEVER cheat.

All while he was cheating.

The lies carried on, after DDay, too. Lies of omission. Things he trickle truthed. His two years of online dating, when he promised me he’d never lie, never cheat, never hurt me again. His true feelings. Etc.

So now, I trust very few. No one entirely. I question my trust of BG, but not just him. Everyone. I see/imagine hidden agendas always. Nothing is ever taken at face value anymore. I overthink everything!

“6. We feel we can’t trust ourselves to judge who is trustworthy – and not trustworthy – in the future. If you can’t trust yourself, and your own intuition, then who can you trust!  

7. Betrayal undermines our ability to relax and trust other people in the future. At the back at our mind, there’s always this doubt: “Can I trust this person? Are they really who they seem? Will they mistreat, wound or reject me at some point down the line?” This stops us feeling safe, and destroys our peace of mind.

The overthinking. The constant scanning of everything and everyone, it’s fkn exhausting! I do try hard to let it go a bit. But those walls are damn hard to break down. The abuse, and mindfuck, they did a hell of a job on my psyche.

Thanks, DLH. This is a succinct explanation of why it hurts so much, and for so long.


A reminder

I was reminded today, by my sweet friend, K, that my story is real. And I’m allowed to tell it, if I want to.

This choked me up a bit.

Roger has told me in the past, to stop telling my story, it upsets poor dear wee innocent Trinket. Yeah, okay? Perhaps you two shouldn’t have done the things you did then. Huh?

Oh no, blame the messenger. Not the actors!

The outside world sees me – expects me – to be fully healed. That wee 30 year blip in the road never happened.

K gave me permission. That I don’t need, but totally appreciate, to be me. To grieve my way.

God, she’s awesome. She noted my old BFF, J’s disloyalty in “Facebook friending,” (sounds so twelve years old) Trinket. K was aghast that J did that.

Phew. It’s not just me. It was seen as an awful thing to do.

K also said, “um, I saw those photos of them on the tramp they went on. Man, what? That woman, she’s pretty plain. I had no idea. No looks at all. What is it about her? I was shocked, actually, because you’re fabulous inside, but a total package, as far better looking. It’s crazy, huh? I don’t get it.”

Of course, I was gracious and mumbled, thank you, obviously it isn’t about looks. But internally, this… Well, um, that’s nice and all, K, but makes me feel really crappy, too. Like, I was SOOOOO awful, any desperate old hag was better than me. Ugh.

Then K started talking about BG. How fabulous he is. That she and J are a bit in love with him. “Just so kind, Paula. We are impressed. Trust you to land such a great guy. We are a bit jealous, really. Sexy and adores you, so kind to everyone, but they way he looks at you, swoon! J says it’s how Norm looked at you all those years. She was always quite jealous of your relationship. I wonder if there is a bit of schadenfraude with her. That you failed. Sad eh? She wouldn’t do it consciously. There is something about you, these guys fall head over heels for you. What’s your secret?”

I blushed, laughing. “Well, if it ends like what Norm did to me….fuck being adored. It’s not worth it. Can’t have adored me that much if he kept choosing other women over me. I’m careful. Cautious. Not letting the passions free. That is WAAAAY too scary. I wouldn’t survive this again. Best to keep some of the walls up, some of me back, for me. But hell, it’s hard. I don’t do restrained. I love with every part of me. I give everything. But I know I can’t again.”

I talked about the challenges. The wanting to be with him more, but loving my independence. I can’t be any man’s enabling accessory again.

She nodded. “I get that. Marrying later, I have kept my own business, my own bank accounts, etc. We have some joint things, for the kids, etc. But my clothes, my entertainment budget, that’s paid out of my earnings. Then there’s no guilt. No need to justify any spending, etc.”

This is one challenge I face. The together, but separateness of later life relationships. We need to keep ourselves frombeing swallowed alive by our partners.

It was so nice to be able to have a real talk with someone. So much of my life is hidden. My feelings.

I’m lucky to have K, and L, especially. They let me be honest and real.

But I never lead with a share. I only talk about it if invited to. And I see them both in person, very rarely.

It’s my FIL’s 91st birthday, and I’ve been warned off, by Roger. Not allowed to contact his father. So weird. 30 years. He was kind of my father figure, as mine was not really around much, and hardly someone to respect. I’m thinking of him anyway, silently raising a glass of red to him. Happy birthday, B. Hope you enjoy your day 🍷🍷🍷



BG and I have shares in two racehorses together.


I find this “joint” stuff quite challenging and confronting.

The first one, a 3 year old filly, had her second start yesterday. My town has the only all weather track in New Zealand, and we were racing there. He messaged me at around 11am, saying he was ducking out of work, and driving over to watch her.

What a lovely midweek surprise!

I work 20 minutes out of town, but made plans to dash in for the race.

The filly went very poorly, and we have decided to sack her. On examination, looks like she might have a heart issue.

Never mind.

BG met up with some people he knows, and spent the rest of the afternoon there, drinking and relaxing while I went back to work.

When I got home, he called me and said he was getting a ride to my place. I offered to go pick him up. He was amazed I’d do that for him.

I mean, what?

Of course I would. It’s a seven minute drive from my place! Crazy man.

He has never had a partner who would do that!

My whole life was about picking Rog up from some lads’ event or another, lol.

Mum lyf!

He was quite funny. I don’t see him drunk often.

He’s the boss.

At a drinking establishment.

Not a good look at work.

He got out of town, and let his hair down. So funny. So affectionate. Introducing me to everyone, arm around my shoulders, pulling me in tightly to him, stroking my hair, beaming at me, dimples flashing, as I chatted away to his friends, and new acquaintances.

And he kept apologising. For being happily intoxicated. Totally sweet and funny. Not horrid, loud, or boring. Just relaxed.

I got us home, the dogs were beside themselves to see their favourite person, and he, as always, made a huge fuss of them both.

I cooked us a lovely piece of venison, thinly sliced, I dressed it in a crispy salad with a balsamic and berry vinagrette. He ate ravenously, saying, “man, you’re the best…this is amazing. You’re amazing. I keep thinking I’m gonna wake up and you aren’t real.”

He also brought my birthday gift over, the one he forgot last weekend. It’s glorious! Huge! We held it up where I think I’ll put it, and he thought he was very clever!

A nice night in, a delicious glass of syrah, a very good meal, some Olympics on TV, a snuggly, grateful man, and delicious morning sex before shifting stock and going to work.

How did this happen?

I am living life on my terms, and often a nice boy I have fallen for accompanies me on this journey. He never expects anything of me. Is excited when I do the bare basics as a supportive partner.

And I am very grateful, don’t get me wrong.


Yep, always a damn but.

I never fully FEEL what I once did. That true peace. That deep joy.

Acceptance of the fact that Roger and Trinket stole my peace is hard to grasp. But I have accepted that this is what I am left with. This enormous scar, this cavernous hole that never fills.

How lovely is my darling barman, though?



Walking the Journey writes a beautiful, sad, strong, insightful blog about the effects of infidelity on her. On her marriage.

Her journey reflects much of mine.

I just wanted to share her latest post. And underscore the damage done, but mostly the lack of motivation by cheaters to accept the damage they have inflicted on people who have probably loved them more than anyone ever has in their lives. That lack of acceptance, understanding, and zero motivation to fix what they broke, makes cheating so very damaging. So incredibly painful. So very long term. Such a deep scar inflicted on a person who just loved them, and – not unrealistically – expected reciprocity. Love, honesty, trust, loyalty, care…


I have often thought of the shattered crockery illustration. Try putting us back together after you smashed us.

But this, also spoke to me, my heart pounding with the pain

All these years I have struggled with him, his silence, his anger, his lack of empathy, his trickle truth, his lies, but yes… his lack of empathy and understanding of what his actions caused. It’s like he truly does not comprehend the damage he has caused. To me, to the kids and to himself. Maybe he does know? I don’t know. But I don’t think so. Because I feel that if he did, even just a little, there would be a kindness from him, maybe a gentleness to show he knows the pain he’s caused. But there’s not. Never has been. Only anger, justifications and projection.

Thank you, WTJ. You are a beacon, and you draw a vivid picture with your words ❤💔


The Mindfuck Channel.

The stories that we are told.

Us dummies who are so easily betrayed (typed with an enormous side of snark.)

He had no time to cheat, how could he fit that into his frantically busy schedule?! How awful was I to even think something so low of him?

The time that I begged him to come on a much needed family fishing holiday. Nope, too busy, can’t get away.

Funny how he managed a nearly six hour round “day trip” to go “help an ex girlfriend” break up concrete in her garden. When he couldn’t spend any time with us. I went on that holiday, with the kids, without him, feeling so sad for him, being so busy, working so hard for us all, and bought his story, when the secret trip to her city was discovered by me some time later. His explanation? “Oh, I see it probably looks bad, but it really isn’t, not at all what it looks like. You know how much I love you. I’d never go there! Ewww. And you versus her? No contest, Snooks. Come and give me a cuddle, you lumox. I’m sorry, I didn’t even think of it like that.” As I said, if you had just come clean then, when I asked…

They are so unoriginal, but goddamn, SO GOOD at the mindfuck. Of course he had to help the poor woman, how could he not? Silly me. Gosh, how could I deny that poor thing the help she so deserved, right?

From Chump Lady:

Yeah, she was “just a friend,” who needed (only ever his, never mine, hmmm) help from time to time. The kids and I actually joked that Dad was off seeing his girlfriend. He used to laugh along with us. Look how HILAHRIOUS we were, oh, my sides are fair splitting with that joke!

The first book I bought after Dday was “Not Just Friends” by Shirley Glass. And I soon realised how unoriginal Roger really was. That “just friends” is the most ridiculous and deceitful title ever.

And EVERY DAMN CHEATER IN THE WORLD says it if questioned about a suspected AP.


Unilateral decision making

Was reading about cheaters who make big decisions without consulting their supposed “partners.”

Oh. Hell. Yeah!

When I had this happen, I instinctively knew there was trouble in Paradise…this commenter nails it…

“A history of unilateral decision making is HUGE evidence of non-connection, control, manipulation & lack of regard for well being of partner or interest in forming a healthy coupleship.”

That is what I felt, the first time I noticed how I got no say in our life. I had worried about it, to be fair, before. I thought it was disrespectful that I was never invited to family legal meetings (property) for example. I knew I was being manipulated, misinformed, and kept in the dark. On purpose.

When he moved us, changing our life trajectory, without any discussion or real consultation, I was totally shocked and completely blindsided.

I knew then that I meant nothing to him. I wasn’t a sentient being, with my own hopes and dreams. I certainly wasn’t valued.

I was just a wife appliance. To be moved from one property to another. Like the refrigerator.

It scared me.

Seven months later, I hot my first off farm job since the kids were born. Four months later, he was fucking Leanne in my house. My home. My cars. My holiday home. On my property. For the next year and a half.

When I requested/suggested he starve her of oxygen by changing his number and never replying/contacting her ever again, he decided my opinion was worth shit, and kept number, kept in touch.

Which was really useful for fucking her again…right? I know he did two years later. Probably other times, he never volunteered any information ever, only eventually admitted to things he was caught in, and could not deny.

Because he never saw any of the property as mine/ours. It was his.

This was the first realisation to me of how he didn’t care, didn’t value me. Long before I knew he was bareback riding whores.


Birthday bliss

I had a lovely weekend.

Friends. Lover. Good food. Fine wine. Farming chores. Kid messages and a house filled with flowers. My kinda chillaxing.

One weird thing.

HE – yes, HIM – messaged me. Later in the evening. Wishing me a happy birthday.

It upset me. Didn’t wipe me out. But, it was hard. I still love who I once thought he was, and worked so, SO hard to accept my Normie is no longer.

If he ever was, to begin with. He was my best friend. I utterly adored him. This guy, the lying cheating, leaving one, I am not friends with. An alien body snatcher.

Why? Why now? After decades of rarely remembering or celebrating. Three previous birthdays since he cut and ran to his sparkly trinket, why now?

He thinks we are friends?

It made me realise he has never understood how nearly fatally he wounded me. He never once has asked if I am okay. Knowing I had cancer surgery two weeks after he left, and I had to move my whole life. Knowing I did seven weeks of daily radiotherapy.

No care.

But now?


Anyway, my barman left this morning after we had such a great weekend (he retained the golf title, successfully defending against his uber competitive friend.) I went to a girls’ night with two gorgeous friends on Friday. BG and I had some great chats over the course of the weekend. About us. About what happens going forward. About life. Philosophy. Aims. Feelings. He was a bit of a PDA dick when my friend, L, came over. Not sure what that was about. A bit weird. Not totally my thing. It’s nice to be affectionate, but draping himself all over me? 😱

We touched on our differing sexual needs. He tends to panic a bit when I bring it up. “It’s not you. This has happened with everyone…maybe I need medical intervention?” I repeated that it is not a deal breaker for me. That we have so many great parts to us. That he has no problem with ED, more a lack of initial desire.

Later this morning, we messaged thus

This is a man who doesn’t throw around the L word. It’s rare. But when he does, it feels genuine. He hasn’t had a lot of deep love in his life. He says I’m a walking bundle of love. He’s never come across anyone who oozes love like I do. (Shit! So much for holding some back, for me!!!)

His reply totally got me in the feels. His saying I need love. Ouch!