Infidelity, Divorce, Relationships & Love
I read a cute girly book recently. I’ve been reading loads of those. Which hasn’t been helping my self-esteem, since like in all other romantic novels the end is always the same: the girl gets the boy, they are passionately in love, and of-course they get married and live happily-ever-after.
But before the girl gets the boy she has to find him, attract him, and make him fall desperately in love. And what are the rules of the game?
Be cool. Be detached. Be aloof. Be bulletproof. Act brutal. Stay in control. Always leave them before they leave you.
Pfff. Are those the things a girl needs to be in order to survive the dating jungle? Since when are we in control of our emotions so much so that we can stay all those things mentioned above? Detached, Bulletproof. Ha. If I like a guy and he makes me weak in the knees I definitely cannot stay detached. And if that guy doesn’t call me like he said he would I definitely cannot stay bulletproof.
When I like you and I’m with you, I feel giggly and light as if I’m floating on air. And when you lean over to kiss me, I feel my feet stumble beneath me as I melt into your arms. When your hand brushes my hair I get the butterfly feeling inside, and when you squeeze my hand ever so gently, I feel ecstatic with delight. I want you to be the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning, and I want your lips to be the last thing I kiss before I close my eyes at night. That’s just the way I like, that’s the way I love. But when I’m waiting by the phone endlessly for your call, my stomach gets tied up in knots. And when I feel you pulling away I start to crumble as my heart gets torn apart.
“I am an Emotional Creature. I know when a storm is coming. I can feel the invisible stirrings in the air. I can tell you he won’t call back… I love that I do not take things lightly. The way I hear bad news. The way it’s unbearable when I lose. I know that one kiss can take away all my decision-making ability. Don’t tell me not to cry. To calm it down. Not to be so extreme. To be reasonable… I am an emotional creature. Why would you want to shut me down or turn me off?” Eve Ensler
“I want the fairytale!”
As children we get brainwashed with fairy-tales of a happily-ever-after, believing that the princess always gets rescued by the prince. Indulged with girly fantasies, we grow up blinded by the fairy dust into assuming that we’ll know when we’ve found the “one” just by the way we got kissed. Even Hollywood spoon feeds us with dreamy impossibilities. After all, we all should know that the chance of sitting next to someone hot on a plane rarely happens. Let alone falling in love with them. Right?
With these fictitious ideas and fantasies in our minds, girls go through life believing that we cannot be alone, we weren’t meant to be. We need to be rescued by our knight in shining armor and swept off our feet into the sunset. With foolishly romantic notions trapped not in the back of our minds but right in the forefront, it’s no wonder that we girls become hopeless romantics who need men in our lives, to validate us. To make us feel important, pretty, and complete. After all no Barbie is complete without her Ken.
The problem with fairytales is that they set us girls up for disappointment. In real life the prince goes off with the wrong princess. And men rarely make extravagant and overly romantic gestures to profess their undying love. Yet still we obsess about these possibilities. Hoping that we are the exception and that the Cinderella story was truly told about us.
We get lost in making excuses for the men we love or even just like. We ignore warning flags; but foolishly create illusionary signs. We see what we want to see, twisting “potential partner” to “promising spouse”. We put faith in the heaven, god and the stars. We call it destiny or fate. And with these silly hopes and beliefs we begin our search, correction our hunt to find Mr. Right.
Yesterday I could not sleep. No matter which way I turned, or how my body slithered; it seemed that nothing could help this brain from switching off. Thoughts ran though my mind. Thoughts of loves lost, pain, hurt, revenge, betrayal, deceit, and lies. As I envisioned myself as the victim once more, tears came pouring down. Fragile and weak I felt myself crumble, as I hit the ground. How had I become so weak? How had I allowed this to happen to me? Who was in control? Is this the hand of God playing a game with me? Testing me? How much more grief can I take? How many more mistakes will I make? Is he laughing from above?
But the thought that scared me the most was the thought I had of death. At such a moment of vulnerability I welcomed death with open arms. If this was what life had to offer me, was there reason to go on? I’d be relieved to leave the pain of this world. Finally let it all go, leave it all behind.
I could play dumb, but I know exactly why these thoughts were going through my mind. I had just come back from meeting my husband, with both his lawyer and mine. We had tried to negotiate, to settle things between us, so that maybe if we were fortunate and smart we wouldn’t have to drag this thing out any longer or go to court allowing someone else to judge our lives.
Result: Unsuccessful!
And so I came home in tears… trying to figure out what that meant for the course of my life. How much longer would I have to endure this hell? Should I just settle and end this misery? Emotional health vs. financial stability, that’s the real question right now. Seems like there’s no right answer to the question called life and the only way out is OUT.
I had been fighting this for so long, not wanting to leave empty-handed. I wanted to leave with my head held high. Initially my revengeful self wanted for him to have to sell the house. That way both of us would have to start from nothing. I already got screwed once. Vengeance and anger motivated me to stick it out. But after nine month that flame in me had long died down.
I could ask 1000 people what to do. But each answer would be different. Let it go. Fight! In the end it’s my choice to make. And what does it matter to them? Why would they care? It’s not really their problem. Today is a Friday. I haven’t had a single phone call. No they really don’t care. Would anyone know if I was gone? Would they miss me? What if tomorrow unexpectedly I died? How long would it take till someone noticed?
In the deep dark catacombs of my mind, it’s not death I’m worried about. It’s the fact that if I died I would legally still be married to my husband. Would that mean that he would get everything that was mine? Would that mean he won? Only for that reason I’m not ready to die. Could I make you my witnesses? Would you testify that I wanted my fair share, that I wanted him to have nothing of mine?
“Women marry men hoping they will change.
Men marry women hoping they will not.
So each is inevitably disappointed”
No I won’t try to change you; shape you, mold you, or turn you into something you’re not; or worse something you don’t want to be. You’re not a project I’m working on.
I’ve learned my lesson. People are inherently different. Some of us are family people; wired to be part of a “we”, an inseparable duo. Comfortable in relationships, adept in the art of communication, listening, giving attention and affection. Content in coming home to someone, and sharing every detail of our petty little lives. While some of us are not so much.
I am the relationship type. I’m the kind of gal that doesn’t need much “me” time. I take it when you need yours. Sure I don’t mind if you go out with your mates for a beer, or if you want to watch basketball, or soccer on TV some nights. But when you’re with me, I want attention, and lots of it. “I’m looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can’t-live-without-each-other love.” I want you to hold me, touch me, dine me, romance me, confide in me, cuddle me, and love me till break-up do us part.
Maybe you call that smothering, needy clingy or weak. Maybe you even call me an attention whore. I just call that love. I’m looking for the kind of person who wants to share his life with me, who can’t be without me. Whose eyes light up when he sees me, whose voice trembles as he whispers my name, who breathes me in like air, and misses me when I’m not around.
I learned from my previous relationship that “the one who loves the least is the one who controls the relationship”. I’m not ready to give that control to anyone right now. So if you’re being vague and giving me mixed signals; if you’ve got “potential” but the red flags are all over the place; its time for me to drop the hook back in the water. There are plenty of fish in the sea. I don’t want to give more love than I’m getting. So if you love me less than I love you it’s a sign. It’s a sign that you’re not ready, or maybe not looking for the same things in life.
And with that, its time for me to move on. NEXT!
There’s no greater pleasure than surrendering to temptation.
You had been out of my mind for years, buried deep in my past. You had been forgotten, and the tears I shed for you had already long dried. Then unexpectedly as if from another universe you reappeared and waltzed yourself back into my life.
Little effort did you need to intrigue me once more, re-capture my attention, and melt me in the palm of your hand. Pretentious and eloquent you seduced me with your mischievous and sexy words, whispering sweet nothings into my ears as you began to play a little game with my heart.
Thoughts of you began wafting through my mind endlessly, and my infatuation with you grew as the days passed by. I yearned for you with such fervent desire. I hungered for us to be together in the most carnal way imaginable. You had become an addiction for which I wanted an overdose. Irresistible to me, I could no longer wait for your touch. And so I took a risk and let down my guard. I rushed into your arms, and in return you enveloped me with the warmth and affection that I craved so much.
In a race against time, I entrusted you with my most intimate self, lest the dream would shatter, and the intoxicating illusion we were in would turn to dust. Completely caught up in this spell you cast me under, I was sucked into a beautiful fairytale, and I succumbed to my most sensual desires.
With my heart wildly racing, and my body tingling with excitement, I let go of reality and gave into the fantasy. The intensity of the moment, so hot, so passionate, overwhelmed me. I could not remember the last time I had wanted something so much. And in the heat of the moment, I could not stop. With words unspoken you made me feel sexy, and desirable. Your lips were sweet and delicious. I craved for your kisses to last an eternity, for I just couldn’t seem to get enough. Wrapping my legs around your waist I drew you to me. Arms wrapped up in one another, fingers laced, hands gripping flesh, teeth biting shoulders. Straining my neck to kiss you as your grip tightened and you pushed your body against mine. I could feel your heart beating quickly, your breath warm on mine. Lost in the sensational moment which seemed to last forever, I was yours, and in that moment you were mine.
Two weeks of blissful indulgence before I landed back in reality. You were no longer there. The thrill for you now gone, forced me in to playing the waiting game. Leaving me restless with unanswered questions: will you call, will you write? Will you still love me tomorrow?
Days have gone by, your silence crushing me, left my soul tortured. Feeling tiny and invisible, emptiness consumed me. You have stripped off not only my clothes, but also the walls protecting my heart. Bleeding, my veins have been cut open for you; my beautifully-broken heart naked, exposed and fragile. And as your memory fades away, I wonder if the pleasure outweighs the pain? If for you it was just lust? And if we’ll ever meet again?
“Oh these little rejections how they add up quickly, one small sideways look and I feel so un-good. Somewhere along the way I think I gave you the power to make me feel the way I thought only my father could. Oh these little rejections how they seem so real to me, one forgotten birthday I’m all but cooked. How these little abandonments seem to sting so easily, I’m 13 again am I 13 for good? I can feel so unsexy for someone so beautiful, so unloved for someone so fine. I can feel so boring for someone so interesting, so ignorant for someone of sound mind. Oh these little protections how they fail to serve me, one forgotten phone call and I’m deflated. Oh these little defenses how they fail to comfort me, your hand pulling away and I’m devastated. When will you stop leaving baby? When will I stop deserting baby? When will I start staying with myself? Oh these little projections how they keep springing from me, I jump my ship as I take it personally. Oh these little rejections how they disappear quickly, the moment I decide not to abandon me.” Alanis Morissette
When did the rules of the game change? I must have been sleeping. But dating sure isn’t what it used to be 10 years ago.
I remember a time when we girls used to get phone calls from the guys who liked us and we would talk for hours into the night. But guys don’t call anymore. Calling seems to be restricted to when he’s actually serious about you. So if He’s just not that into you it’s come down to texting, facebooking, e-mailing, or some other form of technological communication. It seems that “You have to go through all these different portals just to get rejected by seven different technologies”.
In today’s dating jungle I meet men that won’t even tell me their last names. This one guy said to me: “For you baby its just John.” Well just John…you can just Eff off. If you don’t have a last name, I don’t have the time.
Unlike some girls, my Irish bartenders don’t greet me with shouts of “You wear your heart on your sleeve”. My Irish bartender actually asked me the other night if we should go have a quickie in the bathroom. And we weren’t even dating. Needless to say since he didn’t get a freebee, I lost my right to free drinks. But guys nowadays seem to get away with it. Why? Because apparently if they won’t get into our pants today, they’ll get into someone else’s tomorrow.
What happened to the days when we knew everything about our dates, our friends, our boyfriends? We knew their whole life history, where they came from, and what they wanted to be when they grew up. We knew their parents, brothers, sisters, uncles and aunts. Hell sometimes we even met their grandparents.
Maybe the world has changed. Or maybe I just haven’t. Maybe dating in the city is different than dating in a little town. Maybe dating at 30 is bound to be more confusing and complicated than dating at 20. Whatever the case if true love hides behind every corner… I must be walking in circles!
So how did love come back into the picture? Not so long ago my friends started pushing me to get back out there. I was hearing statements left and right telling me to get back in the game, start dating, go get laid. Me, I’m not that type of girl really. I’ve never liked being single, and I never enjoyed dating. Of-course I loved the butterfly feeling, the highs when things went right in my dating life; but I dreaded the lows when those relationships didn’t quite work out. So at the age of 21 I was already settling down, and happy to have found my “one”. And although I was very young, being in a committed relationship just felt right.
But after having been cheated on, something in me wanted, needed to know what I was worth. I needed to stop beating myself up and blaming ME for not being good enough, pretty, enough, sexy enough, or anything enough to keep my man interested. Could it be that it wasn’t me but rather that my husband was just a stupid prick who couldn’t see a good thing when he had it?
So finally after a few weeks of convincing, I got off my recently regular couch position and went out with some girl friends to a party. Initially I felt like Alice after she ate the magic cake; I had grown up while everyone around me stayed little, or in this case young. The music was loud and definitely not what I remembered it to be, the place was huge and felt like a meet market, the crowd was rowdy, and looking around I couldn’t help but wonder how old the guys were anyway. 18? 20? Would I even be allowed to date them or would that be considered pedophilia?
Every guy that tried to talk to me got the evil eye. A sort of get away from me you pervert, I’m married! But having downed a few drinks in less than 20 minutes, the alcohol was getting to me, and the guys seemed a bit cuter and older all of a sudden. So by the end of the night I was dancing, flirting, and having a ball.
Getting back out there after 10 years off the market was quite the experience. It was fun to feel young and sexy again for one night. That is of-course not how I felt the next morning when the amount of alcohol really hit me. But most of all it was different. Different than sitting at home cuddled up on the couch with my husband. And also different than sitting at home, just as I had done so many times recently, crying and sulking about my miserable and lonely single life.
It was the beginning of a fresh start. I was turning over a new leaf. I was going to go out there and show the world that I was back in the game, available and ready to conquer…
It was on an unexpected day that I fell back in love. It came in the form of a handsome young man (a few years younger than me), with blond hair, full luscious lips, and the most beautiful and intense blue eyes. He made me feel alive once more. I don’t know if it was because he made me smile again, or because he paid me a few compliments and made me feel desirable, or just because he called and was intent on taking me out. But the moment his lips kissed mine I could not help but fall deeply in love. I felt those butterflies in my stomach again. The ones I have so longed for. I suddenly felt a flame within my soul lighting up again, a desire within my body to live, to love.
I know now that it wasn’t him who I fell in love with. We were never meant to be together (at least not for long). It was the idea of love that consumed me; the thought of not being alone anymore, of having someone to hold who would hold me back, of having someone to go out with, to laugh with, to talk to.
But sometimes an idea is bound to stay just that. And as fast as the idea came, it disappeared. And I was left once again with a distant memory of love. But after everything I’ve gone through, I have no regrets of this quick love that has come and gone. I am happy that I was I mean I am able to fall in love again. Maybe it wasn’t even love. Maybe it was lust. Or as everyone has termed it “the rebound”. But whatever it was it was good while it lasted. It made me feel alive and happy. And it made me realize that I can trust again. I can be vulnerable, I can take risks and above all I can still feel.
Divorcing Mr. Wrong 