Set Fire to The Rain

It’s funny, but I wrote the following post last night for my other blog. The friend in question came over tonight and actually ‘inadvertently’ read it. I had gone out with another friend and she was at my place for game night. She plays around on my computer and I guess I hadn’t closed the tabs. (I keep a lot of tabs open when I’m playing around on the inter-webs.)

“Where is everyone when I’m sad and lonely and in need of a friend? I’m sitting here at 2:30am and I can’t sleep because I’m so anxious. I ate WAY too much sugar tonight and it’s really messing with me. It might also be that I started my period. I just had some pretty rough sex with my husband and I”m bleeding a lot, but I can’t tell if it’s from the rough sex or because I started my period. (UPDATE: It was not my period)

I’m sad. This is a sad post. How lame. Woe is me, sitting in my warm house with a belly full of junk food.

I wish I could see my sister.

I wish I wasn’t such a coward, for all that I talk about telling people how you feel, and being open and communicating.

It was recently divulged to me that I’m a bully and an asshole and that my husband and best friend sat together and shared a meal and talked about how pushy and mean I am. My sister jumped in on that within a few days of that conversation and suddenly I’m the unintentional asshole who’s so oblivious that I can’t help but hurt people and drive them away.

I’m a shitty friend. A really, awful, shitty friend. No one had to tell me that though. I came to that conclusion on my own. I feel bad, because, I don’t know how to end it. It’ll kill her. But I owe it to her, don’t I? I owe it to tell her that I only talk cruelly about her behind her back? That I don’t respect her? That her constant attitude is a giant disappointment and I can’t stand to watch her mopey face any longer? I owe it to her to be a better friend. But she’s crossed a line, and now I don’t know how to proceed.

I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t want to hang out with her. I don’t even want to officially end it, I just want us to drift apart and that makes me a coward.

I knew that she and my husband were sending naughty texts. He told me everything, and that was fine. It became not fine when she asked him to keep it secret from me. She would willingly enter into a sexting (fuck, I hate the term sexting) relationship with my husband and demand he keep it a secret from me. As if she’s stupid enough to think he would keep something like that from me. Our relationship is solid, or at least it was.

I’ve never been a jealous person, but when my husband is attracted to the distinctive stench of her desperation, what does that say about me? I know he loves me, but I’m deeply hurt. He talked about her while we had sex tonight and it was all I could do not to cry. He thought we were being sexy and dirty talking.
I told him afterwards that I would appreciate it if he never brought her up during sex again. It grosses me out and infuriates me.

Who knew that this is what jealousy feels like?

The worst part is, when I told him that I hate it when he paws at her, his response was, “well I paw at you just as much, if not more.”

But you’re supposed to paw ONLY at me! I’m your wife!

I had a lot of partners in my youth. A lot. I’ve had lots of life experience and I told him I was worried that he would end up resenting me since I’m his only partner. He told me that would never happen. Only, now it’s happened.

We’ve had the occasional threesome, even group sex once. It was fun, but right now I’m not interested in that. He wants to make out with all my friends and see their tits and it just makes me feel like, what the hell, what about my tits? “I married you, didn’t I?”

Yeah, that makes it all better, then, doesn’t it.

I’ve been bored with our sex life for a long time now, because I feel like he’s not overly passionate, not willing to explore more, with kissing, feelings, massages, tantric,anything. Oh sure, he’s passionate, we have intense sex, but there’s something missing. We both acknowledge it, but neither of us can explain it. We can’t figure it out.

I feel heartbroken, heartsick. It hurts. It feels like breaking up.

“There’s a side to you that I never knew, never knew, all the things you’d say were never true, never true..” -Adele”


My friend and I chatted, and I guess we patched things up. Would you still be my friend if you read this? I just re-read and find it incredibly harsh. She assured me she would never have slept with him. But I know her penchant for giving in to peer pressure, so I don’t really know.

When I finally spoke to my husband about how I’m hurt, he reacted with self-righteous indignation. He was mad because he felt like a big sleazy douche bag. “She led me on with her little games!”

In my mind, you should never have been playing those games to begin with! It’s your OWN fault that you feel like a sleazy douche bag. And furthermore, you deserve to feel like a sleazy douche bag.

He’s mad because she never once told him to stop. She told me that she’s told him several times to stop because it makes her uncomfortable. I told him he was pushy and that made him even more mad.
I even told him that all I wanted was for him to apologize and hold me tight. I told him that this behaviour sows seeds of doubt in me. I question why I’m not enough for him. He scoffed at that. He started talking about how I’ve gone and changed the rules. There were never any rules. He told me that I knew absolutely everything that happened between them, that in fact, I was begging for it. Begging for what, exactly? The nitty gritty details. You know, I was fine with all of it, until she wanted it kept secret from me. However, if he wasn’t so wrapped up in his self-righteousness, he would see how hurt I am. That all I want is my lover’s reassurance. He’s blind to it. As I was weeping he told me to go cry somewhere else.

When I told him for a second time that the only thing I wanted tonight was an apology and to be held, he looked at me with such disdain, “I don’t fucking owe you anything!”

He’s been swearing a lot lately, especially in conversations with me. It sounds so harsh, and while he’s not swearing directly at me, he throws ‘fuck’ or ‘fucking’ into his sentences to get the severity of how he feels across and it still inflicts the same amount of vehemence at me. I really don’t like it. He may as well just call me a fucking bitch and get it over with.

I got up out of bed, got dressed and told him I was leaving. He told me, ‘it’s about time.’ I told him that I couldn’t believe how self-righteous he is. He informed me that he’s embarrassed and ashamed. “As you should be,” I said, as I left the room.

Don’t get mad at me when you’re the one who got yourself into this fucking position in the first place. Don’t resent me for being more wild and irresponsible when you first met me, the very qualities that you despise in me now. I was more open, sexually when we first got together. And perhaps back then I wanted to open him up and let him explore, it’s different now. I’m not that person. He doesn’t get that. I love him, plain and simple. I don’t want to sleep with all my friends. I want to sleep with him. I want us to be passionate for each other. I told him, as I was wracked with sobs, that I hate when people tell couples that they need to communicate, because whenever I tell him how I feel, he scoffs at it and makes me feel insignificant.

“I’m hurt.”
“Yeah, whatever.”

“Your actions have made me doubt myself, made me wonder if I’m even good enough,”
“Oh, please! You’re being ridiculous.”

What’s the point of talking when I get shut down?

How much longer can I go on like this?

It’s 3am, I have a sore throat because I’ve contracted the virus that my family had last week. All I can do is sit here and go over everything we said. I told him he should eat crow, for all his talk of taking accountability for our actions, and just hold me. He’s too into his righteousness to give a fuck about me or how I feel. My uterus is still aching from last night and he never even asked me about it.  Never even wondered how I was doing. When I told him that I wasn’t feeling well, his response, “well that’s how we feel when we’re sick, at least you’re the one that gets to spend the day in bed if you feel like it.” Yeah, because our 2-year-old can look after himself. Our girls can get themselves ready for school and make their own lunches by themselves.

I’m just so hurt and fucking tired. I’m tired and I’m in pain, emotionally and physically.



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