So, I finally got the life history out of the way. D-day. Now to the time that has passed since. How am I still alive today?
It hasn’t been easy…….can I get a prize for understatement of the century anyone?
At first, I was surprised how much I still loved and adored him. WTF? Aren’t you supposed to immediately be turned off by and HATE with pure venom a man who cheats on the woman who gave him everything she had to give, who gave up her personal dreams and aspirations to put all her faith, trust and love into his basket? Aren’t those the rules? How pathetic am I? I mean, really Paula, HE FUCKING FUCKED YOUR “FRIEND” FOR OVER A YEAR, and pretended he still loved you, what a weak-arsed excuse for a man. Who could love that? What is wrong with you girl? Pack his shit and get him away from you!
I realised pretty quickly that he had had some kind of life crisis. He was completely shocked and gutted that this had happened, but at the same time, kind of weary, like he had been watching a train wreck in slow motion for a very long time, and it had finally arrived at his feet. We talked, and talked, and talked, he answered every question. He didn’t like it, he squirmed a whole lot, but he understood immediately that this was the ONLY way I wouldn’t leave him, and there were no guarantees that this would save our love either, but he had to try – and I asked everything, from sexual positions, to what she was good at (nothing, lol) to where, when, how did they do this without me ever knowing, or suspecting, how did he find the time, what about her small son, what happened to him during their trysts, was this the love of his life, had I got in the way of their “great love story?” she lived so far away, and he had such a frantic work schedule, what did they text, what did they plan, was he ever thinking of leaving me, what were the plans for that, he shared things that I didn’t ask like how he parked the car in the exact same place in our driveway if he met her, and topped it up to the exact same level of gas, he scrubbed things clean, he ensured there was no sexting, and no messaging that could be misinterpreted, so I could pick up his phone, and there’d be nothing, he told her if she ever sent anything inappropriate, he would end it there and then, he told no one, he never mentioned anything about any problems to his best mate……..and did a shitload of fucking, and a shitload of intense LOVEmaking, hot, hard sex, and soft, gently re-exploring of each other’s bodies, for hours, and hours – I mean, how did we find the time? We must have averaged three or four times a day for a year. Answer, I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t swallow food, I stopped drinking any alcohol for six months, couldn’t bear the taste or the feel of any food or beverage in my mouth. And nothing had any taste, or texture. I vomited a bit, and I am vomit-phobic – it’s fine for someone else to do, and I am a mother and farmer, so don’t have a weak stomach. I just hate to spew! And I ran. I ran and ran and ran. I got skinny. Bona fide skinny, for the first time in my life. And I couldn’t enjoy it, I just felt wretched, old, droopy and wan.
It seemed he had hung onto that night we moved, and used that silly little five minute conversation to “justify” his thinking. Apparently I abandoned him that night. He really believed that. This despite all the loving talks, the lovely kissing and still great sex we had. This despite I could have left him, but promised I wouldn’t, was jumping through hoops to make our new life work. His brain just clung onto, “she doesn’t love me anymore.” Ridiculous, but his reality. Of course, I said, “well, leave then. Don’t fuck around. Leave. Be a fucking man! You arsehole. I had no way of protecting myself from your filthy whore, because I had NO IDEA you were fucking someone else!”
Oh, I missed that part! I went and got tested at the nearest Family Planning clinic. 42 years old, mother of three teens (who I continually ram home safe sex messages to) middle class, one sexual partner ever, NEVER partaken in any “risky” sexual behaviour insomuch as multiple partners, or no condoms. God, I can’t tell you how low I felt. But then, the results came back. I had chlamydia, and HPV. Cool. He was so fucking angry at me for getting tested, “she’s clean, she was only sleeping with me,” he might as well have said stop being such a drama queen. Well, Buster, guess what, your schmoopie is a dirty, filthy, disease infested, rotten whore, and now I am too. We sorted the chlamydia out easily, but I am still dealing with six monthly smears and cervical changes that have been treated with very painful and invasive procedures, three times. The last LEEC I had – this is a hot wire scraped over your cervix to scrape the cancerous cells off (owwww!!) was on my 45th birthday. Happy Birthday to me, it was special. Thanks skank, love you.
We did pretty well for those first six months, I knew we couldn’t unfuck that goat, I thought I understood this was forever. I hurt like nothing I could even imagine, but we still loved each other, he was sorry, attentive, completely transparent. Of course we would be okay, it was just going to take time. I contacted a counsellor, male, an ex-dairy farmer, retrained. He seemed good. He told us a few facts, like how this was likely to play out, how long to expect to be suffering for (that seemed so OTT, 2-5 YEARS – not us, we LOVED each other, lol, we’d nail that!) And then, I fell in a really deep hole, started feeling more suicidal. I was hanging in there for the next appointment, and we went along, and he wasn’t there!!! He FORGOT!!! Roger was furious, he knew I was on a knife edge, and he rang the counsellor and let him have it. We re-scheduled, and got there the next time happily. BUT, IT HAPPENED AGAIN later, he FORGOT another appointment. I was beside myself, thinking it was a “sign” – I mean, a professional didn’t even want to help me, and I was PAYING him. I don’t know why we didn’t report him, I can only guess we were too traumatised that early in. Roger wanted to kill him, my usually mild-mannered, reasonable and kind boy (yeah, right, but he used to be that guy) was actually filled with murderous rage. I often wonder if it was a bit self-directed, like he wanted to punch himself as he watched my suffering.
Something had to give…………….