I fucking love women.
We are pretty damn amazing. And reading this article certainly reflects my experience.
Of utter devastation. Suicidal feelings after both of his big affairs. But especially after he discarded me for Trinket.
But a determination that I will be better. Do better. And have learned from the enormous error of my completely trusting ways. I thought we were the lucky ones. Where love would always win. We were made for each other.
Laughable, I know. He loathes me now. I still haven’t managed to find a way to switch off the love I have for the man I believed he was.
That imaginary guy, who in reality could cut me off dead when he was done. Swapping me for an older, less feisty woman who won’t challenge him.
Women bear a huge load, and often have more to lose. We’ve all heard the evolutionary reasons why this is. We carry the invisible load. We work, take care of kids, parents, sibling in-laws and friends. We shop. Cook. Clean. Teach. Prepare budgets and complete tax returns. We try so hard to make our partner’s lives simpler.
We support. Because often – and certainly in my case – we earn less. Careers interrupted to care for other family members.
I worked my arse off and totally adored that man. I stood firmly beside him during the family wars. Even when I didn’t totally agree that he’d approached what he did in a completely truthful way. I showed solidarity when his sisters denigrated and tried to sue.
And when I was told by Rog that I never deserved it, he was damn right.
Of course, who does deserve to be cheated on???
But, I was never a spoiled princess, wearing a big rock, driving a flash car, holidaying somewhere exotic. I never told him he couldn’t do something, or go somewhere. My “girlie” spends were at the hairdressers and on a little bit of designer fashion and shoes once a year if the budget allowed it. I went to a beautician once in thirty years. I didn’t get professional waxes, manicures, pedicures, Botox, yada yada…all of which all of my very white, very privileged contemporaries and peers were doing. I owned not one piece of precious jewellery.
I was pretty content.
I know I gave him my all.
It really does suck balls, and it really will always circle back around in pain cycles. I will never understand it.
But, I truly believe that working through the pain will make me healthier and a better person in the long term than plastering over it with the next shiny new thing.
Rog even said that he saw that during the Leanne affair. When he seriously considered leaving me for her. That I would do well in the long term, and he felt he would regret “choosing her.”
Great. Thanks for that vote of confidence and insight. Apparently I am tough enough, strong enough, to deal with the heartache. When he just could not, and needed another woman to soothe him.
Guess what? He’ll never know, but he nearly fucking killed me. Not just the cancer (I have an oncology appointment on Wednesday, always a bit anxiety inducing) but the absolute devastation a working so incredibly long and hard to heal, and then – when just over the brink – being dumped flat on my heart for someone he’d talked to for three weeks. Christ, she must really be something fucking amazing.
And even when it comes to relationships that end because of a partner’s infidelity, women may go through an initial period of grief and betrayal, but they also gain a better perspective for future relationships as a result. In fact, women who had been cheated on demonstrated a greater “mating intelligence.” “What this means (in their words),” says the study’s lead researcher, Binghamton’s Craig Morris, “is that they are more attuned to cues of infidelity in a future mate, more aware of how other women interact with their mate, and they also possess more self-confidence and more self-awareness and independence in general.”
So, what we loyal, betrayed “know” instinctively, that cheating causes unbearable and completely unnecessary pain, and that you don’t go around in life just replacing “love” (yeah right, Rog. I’ll always be your valentine, the love of your life. Sure) with the next willing warm body. Love is deep. It is lasting. And it endures hard times, has stamina. Love is loyal to a fault. I love. And it doesn’t just end when you are sick of the other person. Or can’t deal with how much your choices have hurt them. Love stays.
Mine has stayed through abuse and discard. How terrible is love? When it comes to that point? Ugh.
This all comes from the dream I had last night, fitfully trying not to disturb BG’s sleep (I needn’t have worried, he was well sedated with a bit of bourbon 😉.) The dream came after one of my tearing rape nightmares. When Rog came to me, sat down and confessed he’d acted poorly. Apologised to me, and admitted he had completely got it wrong…
Dreams. What are they like? Bloody hell, how stupid. He’ll never apologise, because he did nothing wrong. Nothing to hurt me. Or rather, my feelings never mattered. Only his do. Right?
In happier news, from my mindfulness bank today, my boss got a new puppy – and it will be my job to toilet train him. It always falls to me, lol.
I desperately wanted his chocolate sister, here with the yellow girls…
How cute is Rua? The boss loves her yellow labs. First boy though. Or is he a baby seal?
My little dawg is not super impressed with the giant baby…
Night all. I’m gonna hit the hay. 😴😴😴