Tearing at the Fabric

Of the space-time continuum


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Authenticity

My blood boiled this morning reading Chump Lady.

I mean, holy hell!

One of the things that you have to learn after being chumped is, that you don’t have to take that crap from anyone anymore.

You don’t have to pretend to be friends with someone who has serious character flaws.

You don’t have to spackle over people who cheat, as “having made a mistake.”

In this case, the woman’s actions made her previously beloved husband so miserable that he felt his only out was to shoot himself.

If you disagree with her cheating – and you absolutely should – then you are not a “bad friend” for not forgiving her. You are a person with morals, integrity, character, and any loyalty you are being made to feel to her is seriously misguided.

I no longer tolerate people like this in my life.

I have unfriended cheaters. I don’t accept any excuses that, “oh, but other than that, she’s a lovely person.”

Bollocks.

Lovely people don’t cheat.

Either on, or with partnered people.

It’s that simple.

I have culled people. And I’m good with that. I never had before. I thought you had to accept all the bad. Just ignore it, and play nice.

I worked so damn hard to survive the discard after a serial cheater made me feel unworthy of living. It was a special kind of hell. Trying to stay in the world, when it was too painful to do so.

Buggered if I am going to allow any cheater apologists wriggle room in my life.

I make very deliberate choices now. For my mental health. For my own survival.

The comments got me. Those asking not to talk about suicide.

Fuck that shit.

We need to talk about it. Infidelity, gaslighting, lying, they make loyal partners fucking crazy. Miserable.

Some of us want to die.

Sadly, some of us do.

It needs to be talked about. It isn’t a mistake.

It is abuse.

Unbearable abuse that sucks all of the joy in the world from our beings.


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I lied to you

So. I had a bit of an off moment on Sunday.

During an otherwise truly lovely – quite romantic, in fact – weekend that my barman quite spontaneously suggested, midweek.

I didn’t sleep so went for a three hour walk on the beach.

On my return, BG asked me if he’d done something wrong. But, my unsettled, insomnia wasn’t about him. More a freak out at the overwhelming business stuff, as I had a bit of a scary meeting on Friday.

But.

It was the four year anniversary of moving into the first safe home, my own home, MY first I bought all by myself.

And yeah, BG still hadn’t tried to fuck me for a month…

Then, I showered – we showered 😜 – and his ex’s brother and sister-in-law showed up! While I was all scraggly hair, fresh-faced and starting to pack.

We sat having coffee with them on our deck for over an hour.

They’re really nice people. BG introduced them to each other, over a decade ago.

I’d met them before. And, to our surprise and delight, they’d just got married the previous weekend. I could see their happiness.

Hearing them talk about the wedding (held in my town!) we realised that BG’s cheating ex, the groom’s sister, had come over from Australia with their other sister, for the wedding. No drama at all. Just serendipitous as the border had only just opened again. Luckily for the families.

I was aware we were over check out time, and I ducked back inside, and down the other end of the apartment complex to try to return the key. Back, I was quickly towelling my hair dry, and therefore I missed some of the chat. I deliberately did that, to be honest, giving the old friends some moments of privacy, to catch up, without the “new girl,” breathing down their necks. BG met Chrissy when she was visiting her brother and SIL, over from Australia, about eight years ago, in that town.

Anyway, we drove home after visiting with more friends, stopping for late lunch in a nearby small city on the way back to my place. There, as we walked into the restaurant, I realised an old hometown mate, GJ, was sitting in the window with his partner.

I didn’t recognise him at first. But this is a guy who I used to have a funny sexual banter thing with, for decades. All very chaste, safe and silly. I was “happily partnered” right?

Anyway, he’s a very good looking, terminally single, older guy. The town lothario. Broken a lot of hearts over the years. He used to tell me that Rog had the Most Fuckable Woman in Insert Name of Town.

Wouldn’t get too excited, it’s a small town. 😜

But that’s the kind of bullshitty thing he and I had.

Of course, I went over to say hi. And it felt REALLY weird, running into him with BG…

That night, in bed, BG said he had something he’d been keeping from me, and he needed to tell me, felt really bad. He said, “I’ve lied to you. And it’s not okay. I’m sorry.”

Obviously, my heart froze.

Turns out, while I was packing, and in the bathroom, he found out Chrissy was staying just down the road, and the SIL had asked him earlier, when she first spotted him, before she knew I was there, if he wanted to go and say hi, to her and the other sis, as they were just taking them to the airport later.

He, of course, said, no thanks. Shaking his head, “no. No thanks. Oh, and Paula’s here.”

They would have no real reason to realise we were still a thing. I met them well over a year ago, and there was no indication that we were long-term.

But obviously Belle, the ex-SIL must have told Chrissy later, and she sent him a text, saying, “hey, you snob, why didn’t you come see us?”

He felt he’d hidden that from me. He never replied. He wanted to say to her, “fuck off. That’s inappropriate, and why would I want to see you.” And can’t work out why she doesn’t get that he is not her friend after what she put him through. “I’m sorry babe. It was a shock. She hasn’t contacted me since that last time she wished me happy birthday. I haven’t replied to any of her texts in years. Look at my phone. I should have told you then. I didn’t. I lied to you. I feel really awful.”

I didn’t see it that way. I had a difficult morning. He tried to find out why I’d got up and slept on the couch and walked the beach for three hours. He thought he’d messed up somehow. He’d been drinking with one of his best mates, and wondered if I was quietly pissed off.

I wasn’t. Not in the slightest.

I was ruminating and panicking about finance. Reflecting on this day, four years earlier. Admittedly, I was deeply disappointed and sexually frustrated that he hadn’t made a single move on me in weeks. To the point where I back off, stop trying.

But the major thing was I was in my own head. Worrying. But not about him.

As he teased my worries out a little bit, my lip wobbled, there were tears stinging, behind my sunglasses. He’s never seen me cry, and I was fighting it. I won. But it got close. He held me, asking how he could help.

When he told me about the text from Chrissy, I told him that I wasn’t upset. I’m not threatened by her. He knows I get it. That yes, she’s a stunning, petite, blonde, and yeah. I’m not. That’s somewhat intimidating. But I know she treated him very poorly, and he doesn’t want her.

He assures me her looks are Instagrammable, but she’s not that pretty IRL. Heavily filtered and well lit. And I get why he didn’t tell me about contact straight away. I was a bit off, we had just had a difficult talk. I wouldn’t have thrown that information in there in the same situation. A tired and emotional partner, “hey, my sexy ex is staying down the road and wants to see me.”

The important thing is, he told me later. He didn’t have to. We left town. I could have never been told. And I would have never known. I appreciate his candour, and honesty.

He said that he was upset because I asked him twice during the day if everything was okay, and he thought that I knew him so well, and knew he was a bit off.

I did know he was a bit pensive. I knew my moment had rattled him. I know he’s having a lot of stress at work, and getting him away, trying to switch off, is challenging. He’s arrived back to more Covid in the staff, leaving just himself and his bar manager, just returned from a week’s leave, as the only staff members with bar duty manager’s licences. He’s gonna have to pull some bar shifts this week, and possibly longer. It’s stressful. Losing money hand over fist, and he works seven days a week if he doesn’t get outta Dodge. That’s in normal times. Without night shifts added behind the bar, after a day behind the computer, and calculator!

I was surprised – but impressed at his emotional intelligence – that he framed the delay in telling me about Chrissy’s message, as lying.

Roger never did. If I didn’t know, it wasn’t a lie. Right? BG at least obviously understands about lying by omission.

That is actually very comforting.

Oh, we got two fantastic sessions in before he left. One, prolonged shower sex one, and one of me waking him gently but urgently at 4.30am before he left on Monday morning. It’s there. He just doesn’t need me physically as much as I’m used to, as much as I need him.

As much as Rog needed me, daily.

It is a hard thing to reconcile. We are talking about it. It’s not being ignored.


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Milestones and broken hearts

Today has been busy.

BG woke up with me, and we made oh so urgent love.

Sigh.

So damn good!

It felt like a very long week without each other.

It’s weird, we’ve taken this thing very slowly, the distance is hard, but good for us, I think. We are only just now starting to feel a bit of the beginnings of true intimacy. I dunno. It’s so different from the instant, exploding fireworks of how it was for me with Roger, the cheater. I knew I needed time and “slow,” and I think BG knew that somehow. He gave me the time and space I needed. I never wanted another relationship anyway.

We showered and went to my local farmers market. He bought me charity daffodils and cooked me breakfast with the produce, and my free range eggs when we got home.

Such a sweetheart.

We then fed stock, and he pitchforked the last fertiliser bag full of silage off my trailer and helped me put the extremely heavy stock crate back on it.

L rang me urgently. She is at her lake house with her kids, readying it for sale, as part of her divorce from her serial cheating husband. He knew they were not home, and messaged to say he wanted to go and pick up his golf clubs from her (‘their’) house. L wanted me there to ensure he didn’t bring his whore into her home – like Roger did his whores, Leanne and Trinket, and I have strong evidence of at least two others, ugh – or take anything else. We just missed him, but he did go in to the house, even though the golf clubs were in the garage.

Fuckers.

After that, BG drove me out about 45 minutes away, to an Angus stud breeder Roger’s family know, and I brought 30 bales of hay home.

I am overstocked, and my cattle need a bit more supplementary feed before the spring growth hits, properly and I am nearly out of my homegrown hay.

Then we went back to L’s, to pick up my weaner heifers. My neighbour has a paddock of grass for them, and they are so quiet, my hand reared sweeties, they just climbed onto the trailer when I put some feed there for them, so cool!

It is exactly two years today since I sent BG the only message I ever did, off the dating app I joined for one day, out of sheer curiosity. How fucking crazy is that???

I keep looking for the red flags I missed with Roger (early cheating, fake remorse, love bombing, etc) and they just are not there.

What am I missing???

He lives alone, and is happy doing so. He lets me know when things are a bit tough, but never whinges. He is an open book with his phone, etc. Has always answered even difficult questions immediately, and it would appear, honestly. He has bragged to his best friends, who he has known since boarding school days, about my academic achievements, “she’s a published author, you know,” (cringe, but pretty sweet.)

At the moment, during this little self doubt storm, he says he’s happier here. With me. My sweet boy. His work has been super stressful, he is full of all the self doubt again. Worrying about his strategic plan, and his ally, the Treasurer, resigning, and a new, unknown one being appointed on Friday.

But, man, he is good for my soul.

He tells me regularly that I’m beautiful. Sexy. Too good to him. And I looked at him this morning, during our lovemaking session, and just said, “that last girl, she was such a damn fool to let you go. Her loss, my gigantic gain.”

He told me today something he hadn’t shared before, but that I had suspected. When we were going to L’s.

Chrissy, his ex, the only woman he admits to really loving, cheated.

And he took her back, believing her lies, that she loved him, and had changed.

Of course, she cheated again. They nearly always do.

Sadly.

No wonder he gets me. And is gentle with my still severely broken heart. He hasn’t fixed it. That is not his job. I know I will always carry this injury that Roger inflicted. It is a very painful part of who I am today.


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Current situation

Bathroom door wisdom right there, right?!

I got a message from He Who Must Be Obeyed, giving me a stern talking to, the other night.

And basically, I just thought, oh wow. He’s lost control of what Trinket does, so is trying to control me again. Okay dude. Do your worst.

Oh, that’s right, you already have! 😉😂

Hmmm.

He has made me out to be the villain in the piece.

Crazy, eh?

He has two huge affairs, secrets and lies (and lots of ONS, emotional affairs and hooker hook ups) and yet, I’m to blame…

Reality is an interesting choice of word.

Reality was, I was honest about how hard I was finding it. I was honest in telling him I wanted to get the Masters done, and that then we could make some decisions together. I was honest in telling him I still loved him. I was honest in saying that the love now had conditions. Those conditions included truth and transparency. I was honest in seeking that truth and full disclosure. I was honest in my intention to heal so we could heal too. And to never hide or lie.

I expected that honesty in return. Not to be told he would wait forever for me. That I was the love of his life. All that love bombing bullshit, designed to keep me on the hook until he secured his new narcissistic supply. The new “love of his life.”

Just in case it didn’t happen.

I was always Plan B.

All this, while he had at least three internet dating profiles, and sent over twelve thousand text messages (texts alone – Lord knows how many other apps he was using to chat to other women as well) in the last couple of months before he announced to me that he had met, and snared his trophy, the magnificent Trinket.

I had no idea about any of that. I believed we were being loyal to and kind with each other.

Because I am dumb like that.

Instead, I got fucked over. And the woman he fucked me over with was happy to be the tool he used to exit with.

I know I could never do that. You have to bear that weight forever. You walk away from anyone who hasn’t cleaned up their current situation. My sweet friend, Jen has. And she feels free of the awful weight she felt when she discovered her new love was actually a married man. She feels she obeyed the Code of Sisterhood. Not to mention valued herself, and called out a liar and cheat. No matter how much he charmed her.

Pretty simple, respectful stuff.


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Moving day. Again

We are still locked down here.

Not as tightly as those first five weeks. But still not allowed to pop our bubbles. We are now allowed to use our cars, to drive locally to pick up click and collect shopping and food, contactlessly. 2 metre social distancing is still mandated. We are however now allowed to drive if we stay local. We are not allowed to go visiting, and yeah, I miss the barman. It’s been two weeks since we were together.

Bonk ban indeed! Ugh, frustration, toys, cold showers…..

Yesterday, my son was moving out of his flat in a city an hour and a half away from me. Technically, not local. But I took my trailer up to help him. I took a box of gloves and a couple of masks, and a pump bottle of hand sanitiser. I couldn’t hug my boy and I stayed out of his house, just helped load up my trailer.

He’s just going to stay with an old high school friend until he finds a new flat, so I took his gear home to my place, moved my tractor out of the barn, and backed the trailer in, fully loaded, ready to deliver to new flat when he finds one.

Moving a 23 year old young professional guy is hilarious.

I got golf clubs, skateboard, ski gear, cricket gear, camping gear, hockey gear, three guitars, amps, an electric ukulele, etc.

And a bed, a chest of drawers, small suitcase of clothes and box of kitchen items.

Priorities, right?🤣

As I was driving it all home, I phoned BG. We talked most of the way home. The proposed drop down to Level 2, hopefully next week, is still looking very dicey for bar owners and managers to be able to reopen. He’s juggling a lot of balls, with food and beverage delivery currently, and trying to work out if he can open his large venue if he sections areas off. It has capacity for 800. 100 is the maximum gathering allowed, and they can easily manage that, they did so on the way up towards full lockdown. But, the PM is directing that only seated patron venues can open, with one server per table. Patrons in bars will not really be allowed to move around, play pool, darts, etc. It’s looking a bit like he may not be able to open his doors yet. Things are tight, financially.

And, for the first time, I really opened up about my employment situation. I told him I am actively seeking employment elsewhere, and what my grievances are.

And I got why he is such a good manager. He listens. And gave me some really sage advice about simply writing them down bullet point style, and arranging a formal meeting with my boss to discuss my concerns, amongst other great points. Unfortunately, I have little faith she is in an emotional space to really listen, but I know what I have to do. I owe her that much. I owe myself much more.

He said he has staff who are ready and willing to come back to work properly, but that this has been a very unique time, and he is not expecting everyone, or even anyone, to hit the ground at full speed. Psychologically, productivity has been influenced. My boss is being completely unrealistic. I have had three suicidal family members. I had to organise how to get my 76 year old father to my unstable brother in the South Island, under Level 3. I am trying to do my job, having a control freak boss, who refused to give me full access to our network, and no remote access to accounts or clinical records, and then started inventing new tasks for me, that are not in my job description. Then she started checking up on me, checking time stamps on work done! WTAF??? Then tried to get me to do some tasks that I needed that access for, at least two months earlier than she normally would. I calmly told her that it was physically impossible, but that there was no rush, I would work through that when I am back in the office.

She lost the plot. Then WROTE ME A FUCKING DAILY SCHEDULE!

I have worked for her for thirteen years. I know how to do my job. I know how to do many, many things that are technically not my job, but I put in anyway, as a full team player.

I am offended that I am being micro managed like a naughty schoolkid.

So, I got to vent. And it felt weird.

But good.

Someone I could safely talk to. I am not so hot headed that I have handed in my resignation, but I told him I was sorely tempted. BG was rational and supportive, telling me to ensure I weighed the pros and cons carefully (my loyalty has earned me a certain amount of flexibility in my current position, and I am well rewarded, financially) and address these issues with my boss.

All things I know. But he put things in order in my brain.

We then discussed us. Where will we be? How could we work towards one day being in the same place? We both need to work. And at this stage, we haven’t the opportunities in either or our towns for the other person. We accept that. But it is interesting that this is the direction the discussion went.

Late last night, my girl was having virtual drinks with her old school buddy, so BG and I video messaged for nearly two hours.

His stepson, the schizophrenic meth addict, has been committed again. He has been chatting with, and supporting his ex, he’d just put some money in her account to buy something for said son, as it was his birthday last week, and he never gives money to the addict himself. Linda also has her lovely daughter, a grad student, home with her, to help her out during lockdown. I think they are relieved. And the psychology Masters student has both been helpful, and is seeing from the inside, what her mother is dealing with in her brother.

Poor things.

BG offered his place, at the beach, a few hours up the coast from them, once we can move about, if they need a break. She has nowhere to go, and limited funds. He did run that past me first. I’m fine with it. I feel for that poor mother.

Who even am I? I don’t do long phone calls, or video chats! We are missing each other madly. Way more than I thought I would, and he says he has had to stop himself from breaking the rules and driving over to me a few times.

My son has booked the barn loft for next weekend, hopefully we will be in Level 2 then, and we will be allowed to travel about a bit. I laughed, his sister blew his cover, I think there is a booty call situation down here. She assures me the young woman involved is fully aware this is a no strings situation.

Kids. What are they like, huh?

Lockdown has been hard on us singletons lol!

There is something soothing in talking together, seeing the barman’s lovely face, and I slept for four straight hours, without waking up after talking with him! Woohoo!

Oh, and youngest daughter has just applied for her dream job. I am keeping everything crossed for her. A similar role that she got to the final two for around a year ago, but this time locally based and for a much more aligned-to-her-values politician.

And, her current job in real estate has her dreaming. She showed me a house she’d love to buy. I LOVE it, and said she should talk to the listing agent in her office. First time we have discussed this for real, and first time she has thought maybe I am okay with living in this region. Baby steps in adult life. So proud of her. She’s getting organised for her tonsillectomy on Tuesday. I have some leave to drop her off outside the hospital, and first day home, and work from home the next day, to keep an eye out for bleeding, and help her start post surgical recovery. Apparently adult tonsillectomies can be a bit rough.

It’s Mother’s Day today, and I’ve been told not to get out of bed (currently 7am) as daughter has breakfast planned. (I am intermittent fasting, but will break those rules today) and that all three kids have organised a beautiful meal delivery for tonight.

And, cool present, got my first ever period-on-Mother’s-Day! Woohoo🤦‍♀️ ick.

And the barman just messaged…cuteness

I’m so blessed. A kind man. But especially, these three. Gems I am so proud of. Really the only good things to come out of thirty years of love and commitment by me, then being discarded by the man I loved so very, very much xxx


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What the barman did next

So, after the weekend, and BG’s disclosure of a ONS when he was in a new relationship in his mid 20s – a relationship he had started with an old friend – that he subsequently ended, realising a ONS meant he was not ready, mature enough, or sufficiently in love with his friend/then partner to be with her, I was a little bit quiet.

He asked if I was okay, that he was sorry for doing it, but he was aware that it was probably difficult for me, given my history with a cheater.

I was mostly okay. But knew I needed to give myself time, space and all the facts, to make some decisions.

I had decided there is no room in my life for people who have cheated on their long term partners.

Last night, I finished work and drove over to see him. He ended up with a bit of a COVID-19 crisis. It has been resolved, we think, with some advice from the Ministry of Health. He has shut the Club down for now, to ensure all staff and patrons are safe.

While he was waiting, on hold, I cooked some new potatoes (carbs, I rarely eat them) made a garden salad with my veggies, and cooked a couple of Hereford Prime scotch fillets rare.

Man bliss.

While we ate, with a stunning Syrah to match, he talked. I didn’t mention a thing, or bring the topic up.

He offered to “list” his past partners for me, lol. I declined. I did then ask if he had ever cheated on anyone else. He said no. But he knows that the mother of his stepkids (and he still talks to her regularly, so relationship is good) was hurt when he left her. He kept coming back to help her with things around her house and the kids when she needed help. She begged him to come back, and he did, tried again with her (they dated for about ten or eleven years, but never lived together.) He knew his heart was no longer in it. That he never really loved her, but he did care about them all. Just no real passion, or deep connection. So he left again. No other woman was involved, and I have had this verified by friends and his stepdaughter.

He talked about his 16 years in his previous town, and how there were a few women, some he dated, a couple were more casual, there was no one special. And he only ever dated one at a time, no fucking the whole town like a complete lothario. And he has previously told me that he made a rule that he didn’t date/shag anyone local when he moved here over four years ago.

This was all completely voluntary info. He must have sensed my slight quietening at the weekend after he disclosed the ONS while with Colleen.

He then told me he was a complete open book with Chrissy. She actually demanded it. He had to delete most women off his contacts list. Only really leaving his Mum, sisters and aunts, lol!

He did it, for her. They lived in different countries the first two years they were together.

However, this was not a reciprocal arrangement. She had access to his phone, emails, etc, but he wasn’t allowed to see hers ever.

He told me he should have realised that was not okay. His friends told him that was a red flag, but he was in serious denial.

Familiar territory for me. My friends insisted that Roger’s relationship (friendship, apparently 😂) with Leanne was not safe. I brushed off their advice, saying, “oh, you don’t know us, we TRUST each other…”🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

BG looked at me and said, “you can look at my phone anytime, and I’ll delete anyone you are uncomfortable about. Including Colleen. I want you to be happy and feel safe.”

I just took his hand, and said, “you don’t know me very well yet. But I hope these past ten months have shown you that I am a trusting person, I don’t really get jealous, am not controlling in any way. I am aware that I got fucked over with this chill attitude. But I honestly don’t believe you can stop cheating if that is what someone is determined to do. I have no desire to play relationship police ever again. I never was, until Leanne. Then I became hyper-vigilant. I also developed, or rather recognised, my intuition. I “knew” or “felt” the times that Roger met other women. In my body. I can remember the odd bodily feelings I had the night I drove home from the sales, without having met up with him. I didn’t recognise it then, but it happened more and more. The times he was with her. The times he was with Trinket. The times he returns up here, I feel it. Less so as time goes on, with us over. But I “knew” the night he fucked her again, two years, almost to the day since their affair was supposedly “over.”

I felt that shit, in my stomach, on my skin. I listen to what my body tells me about people way more now.

We talked some more, and I said that as long as he told me about these things, I am okay. He already knew that. He (seems to at least) always tells me if he is meeting old friends, especially women. And he volunteered the information that decades ago, he had a thing with Colleen, as soon as he was able to, the first time I met her. She had arrived in town unexpectedly, on her way home from a holiday.

I dunno. I think there is a difference between a ONS, and immediate confession, without any prompting, and the likes of what Rog did. Fucking a prostitute, and lying to me about that for twenty-five years (when I would probably have been quite forgiving, as we were young, and I still believe it was booze, peer pressure and a lot of curiosity) and denying a year and a half long affair, when I questioned him several times, when he was constantly texting her, and telling me he loved me…that is a totally different kettle of fish.

There was no planning involved in BG’s one night stand. It was a stupid thing that led him to end his live in relationship with an unsuitable and not-thirty-years-three-kids-and-millions-of-dollars invested partner.

He didn’t open at least three online dating profiles, take squillions of selfies, plan the words he’d use to meet other women. All while telling his (already cheated on) partner he would wait forever for her.

Unlike Roger.

Even those counselling people to leave cheaters delineate about this, Tracy Schorn, AKA Chump Lady writes;

Points I’ve made about cheaters for years:

1. Affairs don’t “just happen” — they’re planned. No one fills out detailed dating profiles for shits and giggles.

2. The exit affair or the one-night-stand are not the rules, they are the exceptions. Judging by the enormity of this data dump we can conclude that cheaters are recurrent and repeat offenders. They go back to the no-strings-attached sex well over and over again. Serial cheating is a lifestyle.

3. Serial cheating is about entitlement. Special people don’t need precautions (or condoms). Special people don’t get caught. Special people are entitled to double lives because their need for excitement outweighs their chumps’ well-being.

Yeah, so, the upshot is, I am proceeding.

With extreme caution. And honest and open communication.

In the middle of the night, I got some kind of tummy bug. Up spewing. So I moved to the couch, so as not to disturb BG.

He woke this morning, reached for me and stumbled out, naked, apologising if his snoring woke me.

I didn’t hear him snore. Lol. He does. But he snuggled me, as I said I didn’t want to disturb him, nor make him sick. I took the day off, and slept a little after he left for work. On his return, as I left, and offered my cheek, he grasped my face and kissed me hard, saying, “I missed you, and I’m not letting you go with a kiss on the cheek!”

So, I have recovered about 90%, and am getting some jobs done. Hungry. So must be feeling better. Must eat something.

This is a brave new world, with all that is going on. Hope everyone is remaining calm, clean and safe xxx


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Not getting the full story. Story of my life

Hit some big red flags this weekend.

I got over on Friday night, in time for a wine and some dinner with BG and Colleen.

And the weekend appeared to go well. Saturday morning started well, with BG waking up wanting me. We made love like parents of teens.

Silently.

Don’t wanna freak our guest out, slumbering next door! 🤦‍♀️

Triggered. Making love to Roger, with Leanne in the room next door was a thing. Of course, I had no idea he was in the middle of a year and a half long affair with her! I just thought it was a bit bizarre, his ex in the room next door as we fucked.

Colleen and I hung out, went shopping (I’m not a shopper, she is) while BG went to work for a bit. She overshared her doubts about her new man. He’s lovely, but may be a bit timid for a strong woman like Colleen.

No mention of us, or questions whatsoever. All about her. That’s okay. I wasn’t going to share much with her, anyway. She eventually went home around 5pm.

I cooked. Vietnamese rice paper rolls and chicken curry. Relaxing night in, snuggling.

We had a productive day on Sunday. Chores, bike ride for lunch, then an afternoon at a nearby beach town.

During a drink at a beachfront bar, BG asked me how Rog and I met. He thought we were childhood sweethearts.

Not quite.

I had, however, just turned 20 and he was 23.

So young.

I explained that I knew who he was, but fairly vaguely. We grew up in the same town, he had dated a friend of mine.

Leanne.

(The woman he fucked three weeks later.

Then twenty something years later…then another two years after their eighteen month affair was “over,” maybe there’s more in between? I dunno.)

I told BG about the race day, and how I was convinced he was into my Swedish flatmate. I had no idea he was attracted to me. I’m not the flirty type. Was just enjoying an interesting guy’s banter.

Giving as good as I got, no doubt.

Maybe he wasn’t into me. Maybe I was the B plan all along.

My flatmate Susannah, and I had a few drinks. Rog drove us home.

And idiot here left her damn handbag in his ute.

Jesus. What a fucktard.

He asked around and got my phone number, called me and asked me out for a drink the next day. Came and picked me up and we had a great night together. I think he stayed (no sex, he sensed my inexperience, I think) after only the second or third date.

Every day after that, he would show up after I finished work, with a wee, thoughtful gift. Hand picked roses from his garden. Groceries to cook me dinner. Etc.

Sex in the bath tub, in the shower, all hours of the day and night!

He hooked me. Love bombed into moving in with him five weeks later.

On the drive back to BG’s town, he asked me if I was okay, any questions about Colleen, or anyone? That I knew it was okay to ask, right? Open book.

I thought for a couple of minutes. Then asked, “so, how did it end with Colleen? Mutual?”

Thinking how nice it was that these old fuck buddies are still such great friends, nearly 30 years later.

And that was when things got … confusing.

The scarlet flags started waving hard.

He answered me honestly and immediately.

“Well, you know how I told you I did some not so cool stuff when I was younger? And feel that is why karma bit me in the bum a bit with Chrissy? And why I was never able to find someone lovely enough to marry and have kids with?

I cheated on her.”

I looked ahead.

My heart in my feet.

“We’d been together way less than a year, had been mates for several years, I dated a friend of hers for about five years before we had a thing, and you know Colleen worked for me for a while. We moved to (place x) together. I got a great new job.

And I had a ONS.

And straight away, I realised that was seriously uncool. Mid 20s, managing a pub, booze, thought I was having a great time, and did something I’m not proud of. I never saw the girl again. It was just such a shitty thing to do. And I told Colleen straight away, and we decided together to split. I mean, I decided. I knew we weren’t in love. I’d fucked up. And she was really so very cool about it, agreed with me.

I’ve always felt like an arsehole for it, but dealt with it straight away. The most wonderful thing is that Colleen has remained a great mate. I mean, quite quickly after we split. She is very gracious.

Sorry babe, that’s shitty, one of the things I said I did that wasn’t cool when I was young and selfish and just so dumb.”

Okay.

So much for my assumption that he’s never really cheated on anyone.

I sat with this information. Thinking quietly.

We had another nice dinner at home, and a good night’s sleep. I wake at 5.30am to get to work on time, and we had a bit of a discussion, led by him, about differing libidos.

It isn’t a big problem, but I think mine is slightly higher than his. That said, I’m not dissatisfied. He’s huge, and has always been VERY quickly hard if I initiate, just even ever so slightly, but I probably initiate more than he does. He apologised profusely, saying, “All good babe. I’m the one that should be sorry. You need to feel special. And you are. xxx”

Then this classic 54 year old male with a willing partner; maybe he needs blue pills?

He doesn’t! His response is fast, and he gets very excited very quickly. I think it’s just a case of single so much, he hasn’t allowed himself to “hope” there might be a sexual opportunity, as such.

We made love furiously, urgently. I needed to leave. But he finished quickly then felt guilty. I felt bad, that he was doing it to please me, felt pressured.

Ugh.

Fuck this shit.

This morning I messaged my two most trusted betrayed wives.

I vowed I would never date anyone who has EVER cheated. And, he said and acted like he hated cheaters.

Just as Roger did. So, there’s that.

Why is my radar off?

My first BW friend, married to a recovering sex addict, said this

Did you talk it out with him?

I realize people seriously mature over time, but I know you feel the same as me, once they have done it, it just seems they have it in them. Some of us do have it, and then some of us don’t. It is more difficult to trust for sure.

It sounds to me though that he is worth it, worth the gamble? Try not to ruminate on this. It was a long time ago and he was open and honest about it to you. That a is half the battle. I’m not particularly fond, at this point in time, of (my sex addict husband) having long term women friends, but our situation is completely different. (My husband) has proven to be unworthy of my trust and incapable of having close opposite sex relationships without crossing boundaries.

Did you happen to hear Colleen’s side of the story?

So, don’t cry, just realize the situation is complicated and this is not a place for you to go diving in the deep end. He’s a good guy. He knows you have been hurt. Be kind to yourself and be kind to him too. He’s not Rog.

I replied that I believe that Roger is “being better” for Trinket. And that totally breaks my heart. Completely. That he’s changed for her. That I was never worth it.

Her reply was comforting.

You cannot compare BG and Rog though. Rog was older, in a long term relationship with the mother of his children. It is not the same at all. Obviously you know this. I do not believe for one second that Rog is “better” for her. Rog is shallow and he will do whatever it takes to get what he wants at the moment. I think he will become bored with her, but as well all know, Rog settled and dumbed down merely to get out of an uncomfortable situation. That takes a particular level of shallowness and lack of introspection.

I’m sure he realizes you are sensitive and vulnerable in this area and the fact that he is being sweet and kind and not evasive means everything.

My other, divorced from her cheater, was equally as helpful.

I have such good friends.

“I think it is totally okay, too.”

Both, like me, urge caution.

One of the great things about distance is time. I can think about this. Decide what to do.

If anyone thinks infidelity is “something you just get over” with time, try being me. The ripples go on forever. The doubt. The pain. Is it ever worth trying to trust in a world full of cheaters, ever again?

And, from BG’s perspective, does he have to pay for a young, dumb, full of bravado and booze error of judgement forever? He already thinks I’m too good for him. That his younger self fucked up his karma.

Is he right? And why is being young an excuse?

However, my first friend has a point.

There wasn’t 30 years, previous cheating heartbreak from his lover, kids…

And yeah, it was always one of the possible “downsides” to someone who has never been married, like I told my son in the beginning.

At least I wasn’t one of the cheating parties, I guess. I didn’t break anyone’s damn heart, blow up a decades long love story…

I dunno.

Maybe I just attract these pricks?


8 Comments

Result

I finally got up the courage to talk to BG about his minor freak out as I was leaving Australia.

I’m so glad I did. It was an opportunity to be real. Discuss some feelings. Work out what each of us are thinking.

He agreed he just wasn’t sure about hurt. He says he doesn’t want anyone to get hurt. Me, or him. I just replied that I’m a big girl, know my own mind, have weighed a few things up, and still want this.

I knew I wasn’t ready a year ago. And he says he respected that I walked away then, before anything physical happened. He says, but you could do so much better than me, he feels he has little to offer. I assumed correctly that he was referring to material goods, etc.

I replied that I am a strong, independent woman, and he doesn’t need to worry about that. That when Roger’s affairs were exposed, I fell apart, my identity as kick arse and resilient was severely tried. But I am coming back.

Me.

The real me. The good, strong, kind chick. Broken. But still me.

He said he can see that. How strong, clever, intuitive, kind and independent I am. And that I seem stronger.

I asked if there was anything I was doing that worried him? His reply was that he thinks I am wonderful, but in his experience, where is the slightly crazy chick hiding?

I laughed and said, “oh boy, you want cray cray? I can provide!” And we both laughed about “mad cows.” He says he was once told he was commitment phobic and he wonders if this is right?

He feels he let one of his exes down, and that the two disasters with “mad cows” (my words, he speaks of them far more respectfully) after that was just karma. That he deserved it. He did not cheat. Just told the mother of his step kids he wanted something else for his life. He knew he never loved her, but did care for her and the kids. Has felt awful ever since because she was hurt.

And it drives his doubt now. He mentioned that the last one, a woman he felt he really loved (cheater-liar) and tried to do what HE THOUGHT she wanted, still occasionally sends him fucked up messages. I get it. I just said I ask nothing of him but complete honesty. If he doesn’t want to try this, or isn’t into me, to just say so and I’ll walk away.

He replied that it is definitely not me, all his shit. Mostly not good enough and hoping he won’t hurt me stuff. I added, “are you also scared you will be hurt?” He nodded. “You’re already getting well under my skin…”

It was a good talk.

Then, he suggested we go out for dinner in a nearby town. And I said my childhood bestie has a holiday home there, we should call in for drinks. It was a nice night. J, my old friend who was quite disloyal early on, but has apologised and we have since cleared the air – the one whose little boy was killed in March – said to come down to their boat, she had other friends there as they shucked scallops. I had not mentioned ANYTHING about dating or BG to her, but did forewarn her that I had a friend with me. The few friends there were people from our hometown. And then one of Roger’s best mates showed up. I absolutely love this guy, and still have a good relationship with him, but I felt slightly awkward. This guy took me aside at Roger’s 50th hugged me hard and told me he thought I was the most amazing person for dealing with Roger’s affair with Leanne, and staying with him. That his mate was a shit for doing that to me, I was just too good.

He just sold a big hospo business, so yarned away to BG for ages, shared some whiskey, and when we left he gave me a massive hug and said, to me, “what a top guy you’ve snared, you did good, chick. Impressed. So good to see you looking so well.”

Naw. I nearly cried.

And, I told a friend about it.

Her reply is priceless.

You don’t know what Roger’s best mates, old mates, buddies really think about him. Not that they sit in judgement but rather what they actually see happening in front of them. What they have seen is the infidelity of the Leanne saga followed by years of reconciliation and then to see him walk off to the sunset with yet another OW. How would anyone feel watching their mate do this? I would be disgusted. He is showing everyone who he really is and they don’t even have to know the details.
Putting myself in one of his mates’ shoes and if I came across you today I would be so much on team Paula. You have survived the crap he has been flinging at you. You have shown grace and resilience. No one knows your internal struggles but if they did they would be mortified. You have shown that to live without lies and infidelity can be done and DONE WELL. You own that dignity.
Who knows what stories Roger told in those early days but I can surmise they would all be about him and how he tried to do the right thing and how he would have tried to justify his behaviour and so no wonder his best friends were probably loyal to him…..until they realised different.
He’s just an arsehole who can’t see or won’t see just how much of a prick he actually is.
You are so so lucky to be free of him.

Sad. So sad. But true xxx


8 Comments

Trivial pursuit?

So, I’ve mentioned BarGuy here.

This man who circled back around, six months after I ran sobbing from him last year, pretty much ghosting him, lol. (He doesn’t know about the sobbing part, that I drove two hours home, weeping incessantly with the searing pain of being kissed by someone who isn’t my “life partner.” Ugh.) He does know I wasn’t ready, and needed time.

He gave me time, and SAID he hadn’t stopped thinking about me.

Yeah right. Obviously the well ran dry. No more women to keep him sorted. Ugh.

Well, surprise, surprise. I think it may well be a case of He’s Just Not That Into You.

Story of my unlovable life.

I talked to ceativerational about it, briefly. She said she’d like to write the sequel, Every Man’s Still a Boy, and Really Fucking Lazy.

Yep. Pretty much.

BarGuy drove to me the first weekend we reconnected.

Like. Straight away. When I replied to him, lol.

He runs a large hospitality business, and I realise that means weekends can be busy. However, I had made the effort to drive to him the last few times we have caught up. It’s been fun. We laugh, we chat freely. He “appeared” to be super into me… I even commuted the two and a half hours to and from work twice.

This weekend, I decided to just sit and see what he decided to do. I know he had nothing important he had to be at work for. My working dog is on antibiotics for two weeks, and I’m not going anywhere while we get to the bottom of her persistent cough. #responsibledogmum.

Nada.

A few messages. But no attempt to come see me. He is not that desperate to be with me. I’m so attractive, remember? (The shit I try to bullshit my traumatised brain into somehow believing. Ha!) Or maybe he had a local hookup? He says there’s no one else. But hey that was SOOOO last week…

And I’m a grownup. I get it. I can see it. I won’t chase a man who can’t really be arsed. However, it is still sad and disappointing. Even though I know it is not really about me as such.

If someone turned around and started valuing me, making an effort to see me, the way I have three times for him (the way Roger used to pursue me, and definitely pursued both Leanne and Trinket…) well, that might be different. I even spelled it out when he commented positively on me driving over. I said, if I like someone, value time with them, I will find a way to spend time. I will make an effort, somehow.

Not obvious enough, lol. Don’t think to reciprocate, will you now?

Anyway. Fuck ’em. I wasn’t keen for any romantic entanglements anyway. It makes me needy. I missed him…. I never want to yearn after someone who doesn’t love/value me ever again. Those nights Roger was with Trinket were utter, suicidal hell. I never slept, the sex visuals were agonising, and I worried like fuck about the driving he was doing. Tired and all excited about seeing his Schmoopie. Meanwhile, doofus here was washing his clothes, shopping for him, cleaning our home, mowing our lawns, feeding his animals, cooking his meals, fantasizing about him, willing him to let her – his latest side piece, in a string of them over the decades – go, and love me like I loved him. Man, I burn with embarrassment about how stupid and needy I was.

So desperate. YUUUUUCK!

So yeah, think BarGuy might just be a lost cause? Which is super weird because he bought concert tickets for “us” for JANUARY (???😱) just last weekend. I was there when he purchased them. He asked me if I would be free to come with him, did I like the bands playing?

Maybe he lied. Men seem to do that to me. Maybe he just bought, thinking, okay, maybe I’ll find someone to use the spare ticket.

And you know what? I can’t even be bothered asking him why he didn’t think to come over. I think he feels like I’m out of his league (WTF??!!) and that putting in any effort will just get his heart broken again, like it did last time he tried, and ran a long distance relationship for a while.

I’m not babysitting any more manchildren. I’ve told him I speak up, tell it like it is, and I appreciate the same. He knows I’ve been terribly, terribly hurt. If he’s not into me, just say that.

Nah. Too hard. Just pull away and fade into the background?

Coward.

Instead, I did farm chores, mowed lawns, cleaned my house and cleaned half the leaves out of my roof guttering. Whilst my farm dog modelled her SwannDri (which she thought was a straitjacket never leaving the deck in it.)

Sunday will be spent with friends.

Once I get this stiff and sore body (mountain hiking) out of the layers of warm, cosy bed again.

I seem to have boomeranged back into bed! Maybe it’s all just SADD. Mid winter blues.


2 Comments

Consequences

Subtitled: Or When the Offending Party Is “Living Their Best Life.” 😂

When you have lived an honest life, never cheated, not broken any laws, tried to live as kindly as possible, considering the people around you, you bet it hurts when the love of your life, your beloved, trusted partner of thirty years buggers off with some chick he went fishing for on the dating apps, after he cheated on you, long term, before.

To know they are having a blast, “living their best life,” well, that’s just marvellous for them, right?

The person left to do the hard yards is the betrayed and abandoned spouse.

Me.

Having a history of prior trauma is listed as the Number One re-emerging issues in PTSD induced by infidelity in this Psychology Today article.

Read it. Honestly. It’s like someone has read my life!

Oh yeah.

That has been the surprise factor in my discard. That the pain has not reduced at all.

That what I know is not affecting, in a positive manner – as one would normally expect – what I feel.

Number Three is the strength of the bond with your partner. He was definitely the most important person in my life. Weaker bonds with my FOO, and the knowledge that children grow up and fly the nest, that made me bond really hard with Rog. I thought we both felt that way.

Nope.

He just replaced me with another wife appliance #neverbealone.

Number Four. Double betrayal. The humiliation of having no fucking idea that the woman I was inviting on holiday, to dinner, to parties, was fucking my beloved. In my homes, cars, etc. FML!

Number Five. The length of the affair. A year and a half. And he did not confess. There was only remorse that he was caught, not true remorse. Dammit.

Seriously, read this shit! It is so true. The damage just keeps layering up!

I did “know” instinctively, that if we were to stay together, that he had to be my healer. He had to be proactive, honest and constant.

I never got that reassurance. I got words. And actions never fully backed up those empty words. He just got impatient and a bad case of the sadz.

That his cheating had the consequence of breaking my heart, making me sick, and ultimately he dumped me for a shiny new Trinket – yep, that is how I interpreted his description of her to me. “She’s just a precious wee trinket.” 🤮🤮🤮

Gutted.