For Future Reference
This isn't about love.
This isn't about blame. Well. Not completely. There's enough of that for both of us.
This isn't a mid-life crisis. That will likely come after.
What this is... *sighs* This is the realization that I'm tired of pretending. Pretending it can get better. Pretending that trust can be regained even in the light of paranoia. Pretending that I haven't started to see this as a dead relationship, and started seriously considering life after it ends.
I love my wife. But I don't trust my wife. And I get my faults in this. I am not careful. I offer advice and honesty and compassion above and beyond the line of duty at times, without concern for her insecurities. I talk openly about sex and love and lust because in the environment where I felt most comfortable, none of those topics were taboo or even shocking. As part of my writing, as part of my immersion into the world of my characters both in my short blurbs that noone ever sees and in my public roleplay, I take sexuality into account despite the fact that she seems to believe that what is written for a character cannot be seperated from the writer's own passions or needs.
She said I need someone more open than she is. And she's right.
For a time I was willing to move past it. But I couldn't change who I am at the core, and who I am at the core made her paranoid. Made her constantly break her promises to trust me and let it go. And at first, there was nothing for her to find. Did I do a couple of dumb things, say or do more than I should have in some situations? Yes. Gods know, yes. But never with intent to harm. And I'm sorry if I take offense at the idea that I could forgive, for the first time in my life, attempted infidelity where I could not be forgiven for telling someone that if I were a single man, I would be theirs. I get it. That was too far. But so was a listing of the apartments she was looking into so she could leave me while I was away at work.
Yes. It's been ten years since that incident. And yes, I let it go. It's not the betrayal that I'm holding on to. It's the forgiveness. I do not forgive. And I did for her. And she can't trust me.
Self-fulfilling prophecy. She's spent years afraid that I'd find someone better, that I'd replace her. And though I'm stubborn and held on for so goddamn long... now I dream of finding someone better. I still love her. I don't want her hurt. But I want someone who trusts me. Who doesn't shy away from holding onto me in public. Who laughs and blushes and screams and giggles and cries and rages and doesn't hold it all in and bottle it all up and unleash it in waves of angst.
I still love her. But I have come to hate who I am with her.
So we're no longer pretending. We're going to burn this ship on the water. Our house has been collapsing around our ears, a metaphor for the entire marriage. So we're going to pay off what we can as fast as we can, try to short sell the house to someone who likes a project (okay, it's not that bad, but the gutters are falling off one side, there's a hole in the car port ceiling, and it needs new cabinets and tile in the kitchen), and... see where it goes from there.
And it's neither one of our's fault. And both of ours.
If I knew how to spontaneously generate $150k, I'd just pay it all off now so we could both walk away.
This isn't about blame. Well. Not completely. There's enough of that for both of us.
This isn't a mid-life crisis. That will likely come after.
What this is... *sighs* This is the realization that I'm tired of pretending. Pretending it can get better. Pretending that trust can be regained even in the light of paranoia. Pretending that I haven't started to see this as a dead relationship, and started seriously considering life after it ends.
I love my wife. But I don't trust my wife. And I get my faults in this. I am not careful. I offer advice and honesty and compassion above and beyond the line of duty at times, without concern for her insecurities. I talk openly about sex and love and lust because in the environment where I felt most comfortable, none of those topics were taboo or even shocking. As part of my writing, as part of my immersion into the world of my characters both in my short blurbs that noone ever sees and in my public roleplay, I take sexuality into account despite the fact that she seems to believe that what is written for a character cannot be seperated from the writer's own passions or needs.
She said I need someone more open than she is. And she's right.
For a time I was willing to move past it. But I couldn't change who I am at the core, and who I am at the core made her paranoid. Made her constantly break her promises to trust me and let it go. And at first, there was nothing for her to find. Did I do a couple of dumb things, say or do more than I should have in some situations? Yes. Gods know, yes. But never with intent to harm. And I'm sorry if I take offense at the idea that I could forgive, for the first time in my life, attempted infidelity where I could not be forgiven for telling someone that if I were a single man, I would be theirs. I get it. That was too far. But so was a listing of the apartments she was looking into so she could leave me while I was away at work.
Yes. It's been ten years since that incident. And yes, I let it go. It's not the betrayal that I'm holding on to. It's the forgiveness. I do not forgive. And I did for her. And she can't trust me.
Self-fulfilling prophecy. She's spent years afraid that I'd find someone better, that I'd replace her. And though I'm stubborn and held on for so goddamn long... now I dream of finding someone better. I still love her. I don't want her hurt. But I want someone who trusts me. Who doesn't shy away from holding onto me in public. Who laughs and blushes and screams and giggles and cries and rages and doesn't hold it all in and bottle it all up and unleash it in waves of angst.
I still love her. But I have come to hate who I am with her.
So we're no longer pretending. We're going to burn this ship on the water. Our house has been collapsing around our ears, a metaphor for the entire marriage. So we're going to pay off what we can as fast as we can, try to short sell the house to someone who likes a project (okay, it's not that bad, but the gutters are falling off one side, there's a hole in the car port ceiling, and it needs new cabinets and tile in the kitchen), and... see where it goes from there.
And it's neither one of our's fault. And both of ours.
If I knew how to spontaneously generate $150k, I'd just pay it all off now so we could both walk away.