Tearing at the Fabric

Of the space-time continuum

Frying pan or fire?

15 Comments

During our first two years, I kicked him out three times.  A total time living apart of around four months.  We decided we were better together than apart, but for me, it was the frying pan or the fire.  It all hurt so damn much.  I couldn’t outrun the pain.  In the second year, I tried sleeping pills, leftovers from the shrink.  This attempt was probably a bit half-hearted, compared to the first, I just wanted to sleep forever, so I didn’t have to wake up with that horrendous slump, “he cheated, he really cheated. I wonder if today she will harass us again?”

At almost exactly the two year mark, I called it.  Permanently.  I said to him, “I can’t do this anymore, I don’t need you anymore.  You need to get out of my life, please.”  So, he moved out.  This time he was sure it was forever. So was I.  I was exhausted and emotionally bare.  The previous time I asked him to leave, we had tenants in our cottage, so we gave them notice, and Roger moved to his maimai at the back of the farm (a small hunting lodge) with a small petrol generator, and a 2km dirt track into it.  He lived there for a month, then another three in our cottage.  He tells me that was when he hit his lowest low, he bawled his eyes out.  He says it was worse than any crying he can remember as a child, and I had certainly never seen him cry much, twice, but never whole body, wracking sobs.  This time, the cottage was empty, but fully furnished.  

He rang her.  For the first time in over two years, he dialed her number. The woman who he didn’t love, who meant nothing, who gave him chlamydia, who gave me HPV, the woman who harassed us, and the woman he hated for her contribution to my poor mental health.  He rang her that night.  He met with her the next day, she was in a nearby town for her little sister’s wedding, for coffee. Three days later, JUST THREE DAYS, he drove to her house.  To talk.  To try to work out why he did this.  What was it about her that made him do this to me?  He had questions.  The biggest of which was, “were the only good parts of what we were doing only good because it was illicit, and I needed the adrenaline hit?”  He tried to get information out of her, he tried to talk to her about the fallout to me, her former friend.  She was unmoved.  Then they fucked.  Yep.  They fucked.  Again.  FUCK!!!  He reported to me that it was quite possibly the worst fuck in the history of fucking.  He felt nothing but revulsion, and she lay there like a cold, dead fish.  He crawled out of there on his belly, disgusted and done.  As he drove home, he says the relief was growing and growing, he was done.  Done with her forever.  She really was a narcissistic sociopath.  But he had to fuck her to find that out for sure, right?

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15 thoughts on “Frying pan or fire?

  1. Wow — really, Roger? Wow! Hugs to you, Paula. I’ve read your comments and it makes me wonder about how love changes, in degrees or more drastically.

    • That is a very interesting point, tempted. I know I loved him fiercely for about 25 years, but this last year has been about finding a way to some peace. Tell you when I get there;-)!

  2. God, he’s a right idiot isn’t he? He should be glad he’s not walking under my window when I have a chamber pot handy!

    • Nephila, an idiot would look good beside him. Hey, we were done. I get that. But WTF??? Why??? I even get why, it was to find out what he had thrown away a perfectly good relationship for, the reason he was going to lose permanent access to parenting full time, half his assets, etc. He found out that what he thought all along was true, but he still had to take the vagina waving around on offer, because he thought he wouldn’t get any for a while. Awesome. I couldn’t crawl that low, I couldn’t give her the satisfaction. How low was his self esteem at that point, huh?

  3. Closure is a tough thing to find, I suppose.

    • narc, yes, that is it completely. He needed closure, I guess. He still says there was never love, and he was very aware of the crazy that was involved in having anything to do with her, he was unwell, I will give him that much. But that just sealed the deal. She was as revolting as we both knew, he’d proved it. I’ve learned over these past five years that although he had been an awesome, mature and thoughtful partner for the vast majority of our time together, he is certainly one of those idiots that needs to put his hand in the fire to feel the burn. Me, I can see it’s hot!

  4. I’ve been thinking about your dear Roger since I read this post. And here are some of the questions/thoughts so far:
    1. Men think with their testicles
    2. Wait, do men think at all?
    3. Wars have started over women (Helen of Troy, for example)
    4. Boys will be boys
    5. Why is that double standard okay today?
    6. Man’s recognition of his mortality = midlife crisis
    7. Man’s vitality is closely tied to his ego

    I’m sure I have more thoughts or questions but, these are just some of them for now.

    • Oh tempted. Don’t get me started! The puzzle for me was/is this: how does a loving, kind, strong, intelligent man who genuinely thought cheating weak, selfish and pretty damn evil – he did, we witnessed so much of it, I saw and heard his reactions to those for 21 years, he was dismissive of them – turn into someone who did what he did? It completely mind fucked me. I mean, even though I knew better, it made ME feel like “I wasn’t good enough,” I know that it bullshit, but I think we all do that involuntarily.

  5. What did it for me, when you first told me about this Paula, was that Rog went back to the SAME women who had contributed to hurting YOU so badly!!! The same woman who gave you a STD!! Unbelievable!!
    How stupid can the man be?? And forget “closure!” What about YOU???
    I see a man that was still as selfish as he was when he cheated….but lets face it, that’s what sets a cheater apart from the rest, they are selfish people. End of story.

  6. I hear you lonelywife. But, to be fair (if I must, 😉 ) we were done. Over. Kaput. Dead. Gone burgers. So he had every right to do as he pleased and get closure, work shit out. Weird way. But I do get it. Still fucked up though! And how disgusting. A dirty whore. Shudder.

  7. Hi Paula, I’ve read your entire blog from start to finish twice now. Your honesty and compassion is so beautiful and refreshing. I know this is an old post but can I ask:
    1: How did you react when you found out Roger had fucked her AGAIN? How did he react to your reaction? How did you find out?
    2. What was his reaction when your tests came back positive for STI’s? How did he react when you told him you would be having painful, humiliating, invasive surgery to remove pre-cancerous cells?
    3. You’ve said a lot about him being a good man and trying his best to make it up to you, can you give some examples of things he’s done that really made you believe that his remorse was genuine? Have there been any grand gestures or meaningful apologies?

    I’m a BS too, you’re a lot further on in your journey than me, it would mean a lot to me if you could answer my questions. These are questions I ask myself daily and I would love to hear another BS’s perspective xx

    • Hi KJ. So sorry you’ve joined the club. My answers: 1. We were living apart but we did see each other from time to time. He needed help at the sheep yards with drafting and weighing lambs. So I was over there with him working the dogs. It is weird, but I had a strong feeling something had happened. So I asked how he was. He told me the truth. He did hesitate. But told me anyway. Although he has never liked talking about any of this, he worked out pretty muxh immediately that truth was imperative now. He says he felt he had little or no hope of me staying, but truth MIGHT be the only way. For that reason I was a bit ‘luckier’ than many BSs in that there was hardly any trickle truth. We did discuss how much is too much? What good will knowing some of the intimate details do, etc? But I needed the whole truth. I imagined far worse scenarios. Romantic, erotic and in love. He says the reality was she was a bit of a slack, boring fuck and they were always pressed for time. Also, she is vanilla. In life. In bed. In her lack of passion and emotions. So I think I know as much as can be told. You can’t know everything. I didn’t live it. As I said to him, my reality was fifteen months of bring totally dedicated and in love with each other. My reality was not real. Actually, I was exceptionally calm and understanding when he told me about meeting her for coffee and then two days later, for sex! He didn’t meet her for sex. But his personality being what it is, he thought he wasn’t going to have any sex for a long time, we were finished, so she was “available.” Ewww. A diseased bitch. Nice. We stayef separated for a while afterwards. He was pretty appreciative of my understanding. I guess I felt he needed it for closure? It was then that he FINALLY went and changed his phone number, deleting hers. He is angry at himself it took two years and often says it was the worst mistake he made after Dday, that his thoughts about controlling her by keeping tabs on her tantrums via her contact to jim was incredibly misguided. He wishes he’d changed it immediately after Dday, as I suggested evefy time she texted or tried to call him (he never answered , but occasionally replied to texts with leave us alone replies – I read the texts always after he sent them – I advised radio silence to starve her of oxygen, he fucked that up rather badly. He didn’t get that even the negative feedback just fed her.) 2 His reaction was anger that I even got tested. He was deluded and in denial at that early stage! “She’s clean. She was only sleeping with me. Don’t be ridiculous” ( he suggested I was being a drama queen in getting tested) so my initial reaction to his anger was to not immediately tell him. I shared my antibiotics with him – a very foolish move – they went in his mashed potaties – I’m embatrassed to admit. I think was still in such major shock he had even had an affair and I was not at all myself. Or rational. I eventually told him the truth when my first smear came back abnormal and I needed a biopsy. By that stage things had calmed doen. He was horrified and very, very upset and terribly embarrassed at his perceptions of Leanne and how deluded and dangerously selfish he had been towards my wellbeing but also that he was angry at me for suggesting testing was even required. VERY embarrassed at his naivety and for putting me at risk. He wanted to drive me and hold my hand to all the appointments. But I told him I couldn’t bear it if he – the perpetrator – was there. I was strong and stoic. But I knew I would lose it if he came. Looking back I see a kind of beginning go the disconnection I have experienced later, an unhitching from him as my support system in life. Maybe even a bizarre way of punishing him? “No you can’t come and try to help put this right, you selfish prick!” 3 No grand gestures. He feels they would be empty displays and hard to accept. I agree. For us. He has apologised a bit. But probably none of them have ever really meant enough to me. Not because I doubt their sincerity, but because it is too late. Apologies, whilst important, don’t fix a damn thing! He is more mindful. He volunteers to do more. He is an even more engaged father. He will talk and listen for hours, for days on end about this if I need to. He does more housework. He is completely supportive, both financially and emotionally of me going back to university. He has willingly attended psychologist, marriage counselling and sex therapy appointments – some of which were six hour drives either side of three hour sessions. He is not usually tolerant of therapy, but fully participated and did the work. He told the truth. Still does. There were sone details I genuinely believe he either forgot or blocked out. He came to me and told me if he ever remembered. He volunteered information he could have easily kept hidden. He still refuses to tell even a white lie “does my bum look big in this?” “Well darling, it isn’t your best outfit to disguise that, how about this instead?” I did ask me if being married mught have been better or worse. I never wanted marriage and asked if he thought my stance affected what he wanted. Maybe I robbed him of what he needed to feel …. tied, committed, bonded…. to me? We both agree it would have made no difference. But I was incensed that Leanne told him that if we loved each other we would be married! Fucking bitch. We are not conservative like her and I know plenty of married couples who have never been as committed as we once were. We were bloody great. Bloody close. For over twenty years. She bought a bloody wedding dress for God’s sake! Mental cow!

      Blah. Bit of a novel in reply. Sorry KJ. How long have you known? How are you doing? I hope my long reply answers your questions x

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