Posts tagged ‘Breakups’

March 16, 2011

My Perfect Ring of Scars

by bye2mrwrong

I’ve been asked many times why I still wear my wedding band. My husband took his off a few months ago. Till this day I wonder if he did it because he met someone else, was told it was inappropriate, or maybe just because he didn’t want to be reminded of me every time he looked down at his finger.

I’ve talked to people who told me they took theirs off as soon as they realized that the marriage was falling apart, that it wasn’t worth anything. Me, I don’t want to take mine off. And if I don’t want to I shouldn’t have to, right?!

First of all, it was an expensive ring, and it’s stunningly beautiful. It took me and my husband months to find the perfect matching rings. We searched for it high and low, in 3 different countries, until we laid eyes on the just the right one.

Second, sometimes when I’m going out and I get hit on by ridiculously drunk, or just horrendously ugly, stupid or just not my type men; I lift my hand up and explain that I’m married. I know, I know it’s a little bit of a white lie since OK officially I am still married, but in reality I’m actually practically divorced. But it gets me out of difficult situation easily without breaking any hearts.

But it’s not the beauty of it, or even its practical use that keeps me wearing it. It’s also not because I’m still partly taken. Definitely not. It’s just that this ring is a reminder of who I used to be, of my life before. Of the man I chose and loved. Of the dreams I hoped for with him. It’s a reminder of the extremely young, innocent and naïve person I used to be, and the broken image of that person that is left now.

I’m not saying I will never take it off. Maybe one day I won’t have the need any more to be reminded. Or maybe I will be OK with moving forward, without looking back. And of-course if another man comes along and replaces this ring with another, then I guess I won’t mind.

But for now it is my perfect ring of scars.

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March 10, 2011

My Favorite Mistake

by bye2mrwrong

Every story has an ending. We grow up hearing about the fairy tales. Those are the stories with the good endings, the happily ever after. But life is not a fairy tale.

Although no one has ever escaped the inevitability of a heartbreak, and many loves end, for a long time I felt that this ending was cursed. This love as long as it was… felt too short.  Now as we look into each others eyes, there is no love. There are only two strangers, and the fire that burned between us has died.

There was a time though that I walked down the streets searching for your familiar face within the crowds. A twist of longing burning at my side left me with an old craving that wouldn’t leave me in peace. It destroyed my nights leaving me awake to ponder as a wave of wild fantasies flew through me and I lost reality for however brief a moment. As my head dropped on the pillow each night, I wondered what I was searching for, what I was chasing after. As I lay naked in our bed, I was reminded of how you invaded me, desecrated me. And as I closed my eyes I tried in vain to remember your face, the touch of your skin, and the softness of your lips. I imagined you holding me, loving me all over again.  All I wanted then was to touch you, just one last time. I wanted to feel you close to me.

But when the dawn finally came, an old memory arose and reminded me… debts cannot be paid with empty hands. You have been expelled from my sky, and words cannot cover the silence or sadness in my eyes. All that is left now are a few moments in my imagination to hold on to. And although I have not forgiven you, you will always be my favorite mistake, a scar branded into my soul. With pain in my heart and tears in my eyes I say goodbye to life I thought I had designed for me. I have accepted my new fate. Here our paths part.

February 27, 2011

Wishful Thinking

by bye2mrwrong

It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all

The human brain is a wonderful organ. It’s verbal, logical analytical, intuitive, creative and emotional. But sometimes an overactive mind can start playing tricks on us. We find ourselves caught in the shoulda, woulda, coulda thoughts about a past we no longer have control of, reliving moments and events we should have long ago left behind. At other times we find ourselves caught in the realm of “what if”, daydreaming, imagining and fantasizing of an alternative future we could have only hoped for.

I’ve been pondering over the “what if” question for some time now. My husband’s affair as well as our separation has taught me so much and I have grown from it. But it makes me wonder: if I’ve grown, learned and matured from this experience then he must have too, right?! So what if now a wiser man and wiser women would meet again? Could they be happy together? Would they now withstand the tests laid down before them? What if we stayed? What if we tried?

There is something strangely passive and even abusive about the “what if” question. All of these ‘what ifs’ usually amount to nothing. Yet the thoughts come uninvited and always seem to hold such force on us; haunting us, spinning in our minds, weighing on our hearts.

One of the saddest things in a break-up is the imaginary future that you’ll never have with the person who you have now left behind. This inability to accept incompatibility or just the fact that we had grown apart as individuals is emotionally draining. But I know now that it is not him that I miss or love but the concept, the picture I had in my mind. So I realize that while some people think that it’s holding on that makes one strong; sometimes being strong means letting go.

February 23, 2011

Nostalgic Moments

by bye2mrwrong

Don’t stress over people in your past, there’s a reason why they didn’t make it to your future.

I think a defining moment in one’s life comes the minute we are able to let go of the past, live in the present and look toward the future. When we are able to stop beating ourselves up over what might have been.

But sometimes the shoulda, woulda, coulda cannot escape our minds, and fills our thoughts with grief and remorse. Vulnerable and frail, I frequently wonder about what could have been. My thoughts are drawn to those picture-perfect memories which can never be forgotten, and I succumb to an aching feeling that what’s past is past forever, and nothing can turn back the hands of time. Unable to let go of the past and that false sense of nostalgia which haunts me, I am lost in a perfect state of delusional denial.

Doubt and fear swallow me whole and I find myself trying to find fault in me. Was I good enough? Did I do my best? Could I have tried harder? I realize how unhealthy dwelling on the past is, but rummaging through our past, with melancholy and regret is nothing but unnatural. The past has value, and should not be discarded entirely; but there comes a point when it is time to stop obsessively ruminating, time to stop holding on to a past we have no control over, time to learn the hard lessons we have been taught, and permit ourselves to move on.

As hindsight is 20-20, it’s easy to look back and see what we coulda, shoulda, woulda, done.  Anyone can look back and point out past imperfections. We could drive ourselves crazy by forever wondering how we could have prevented something from happening. But how far can these questions go? (i.e. What if he never would have cheated? What if I never would have met him? What if she would never have been born?). And where is that getting us? The shoulda woulda coulda song will never lead to anything, and should be banned from our minds. So today I am finally able to let go of regret, accept the present, and let the past rest in peace.

February 2, 2011

Uninvited

by bye2mrwrong

Whenever you break up with someone, you don’t just break up with one person. You break up with their family their friends and their dog.  It’s inevitable, sad and annoying. Now not only have you lost your other half, you lost lots of other pieces of you as well.

So now I have an ex-husband, ex-friends, and an ex-life I need to get over. OK, I lost a cat rather than a dog, and I can’t say it’s such a big loss to lose my husband’s family. But still for 10 years they were my “in-laws”.

After all when it comes to choosing sides, my friends and family chose mine, so its logical that out of loyalty, his friends and family would choose his (even though he screwed up). I mean no one can really stay neutral in such a breakup as this. It’s like saying you’re pro Palestine but also pro-Israel. That just doesn’t work.

Suddenly you are no longer invited to family events. On your birthday you no longer get phonecalls and cards, and the Christmas cards this year never arrived (must still be lost in the mail)…I have to say that since I wasn’t the one who had an affair; I never really got evil looks from his friends or family. But I remember the wound I felt in my heart when before we even officially decided to divorce, I was sitting at his mother’s house and noticed that she had already taken my picture off the wall. The Bitch! And I remember the twist of the knife when his father decided not to invite me to a family gathering. I had been officially uninvited. I felt rejected and alienated. I no longer had a family to rely on.

I knew then that from that moment on I was no longer welcome. I would no longer host family events, would no longer bake cakes, or buy birthday presents. I was no longer part of his family, or his life. The “we” that once was had become an “I”!

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December 6, 2010

Happy Last Birthday!

by bye2mrwrong

The title may sound gloomy and depressing, almost implying that someone is about to die. No that’s not really the case, no one is dying here. But today it’s my (soon-to-be ex) husband’s birthday.

I won’t be celebrating his birthday with him; he’ll be doing that with the mistress. I wont be hosting the family for coffee and cake, or taking him out to a fancy dinner (something that had become a tradition). Still I can’t help but reminisce over the last 10 birthdays we spent together. The countless presents I got him, every year’s gesture bigger than the last.

The first year, a few months after I met him, I got him a few of those upside down bottle dispenser, which ended up being such a brilliant gift that he decided to build a whole bar in his house. The year later I bought him a beer tender (yes there is a trend here – my husband likes to drink). A few times I bought him jewelry – once it was a bracelet, which he still wears even today, and another time I got him a ring (which he took off just recently). When he turned 30 I bought him a 3 months subscription to a gym (so he would feel fit rather than old). For another birthday I surprised him with a trip to London, and there was also that time that I took him to a dinner + show at the stand up comedy club Boom Chicago.

So this will be the last time that I get to wish him a happy birthday. The last time I buy him a present. Actually it’s already wrapped and sitting on his desk waiting to be unopened, if he ever comes home.  I’m still wondering why I’m doing it. What has he done to deserve a present from me, a card, or even the slightest bit of attention? He sure hasn’t gotten me anything the last couple years for my birthday.

For me, birthdays have always been extremely important. Hell they only happen once a year and I go as far as making a list of who called me and who forgot. When I turned the big 3–0, a birthday I deemed extremely important yet dreaded at the same time, a birthday I wanted the most to not be alone on, and secretly hoped my husband would throw me a surprise party  with all our friends and family, he decided to leave the country. Of-course it was not until later that I discovered that this was exactly while he was in the midst of his passionate love affair.

And this year when I turned 31 and the weight of the world felt like it was resting on my shoulders, again I got nothing.  Not even a card. Because what can he give or say to the woman he was planning to divorce?

Me, I know exactly what he likes, and what will make him happy (even if it’s something small).  From a bottle of Malibu to help him fall asleep, to a pair of night socks to keep his cold feet warm at night, or even just a chocolate filled marzipan bar. I wonder if SHE knows that?

All I can say is that I have the urge to be good to him, regardless of how he treated me. Maybe it’s this need to show him what he’s going to miss when I’m gone. After all, only then will he start to miss those little things about me, who I was, and what I did. And maybe just maybe, he will finally regret the mistakes he made, and appreciate what a good thing he had and lost. I know it will be too late, but the thought that he might one day MISS ME somehow gives me a bit of satisfaction.

December 1, 2010

Slutty Red Car for Cheating Husbands (Part II)

by bye2mrwrong

Holding the keys to my husband’s brand new slutty red car (which I can only assume held memories of wild sex with his mistress in the back seat) I was outraged and furious. My heart was beating so fast I thought I was having a heart attack. I could almost see the steam coming out of my ears.  And at that moment, I could have ripped out his heart. Once again my husband was cheating on me, only this time with a car. I couldn’t take it anymore, the lies, the deception. This was really low! He had pretended he didn’t want another car, because he had already bought one, he bought HERS!!!

Turning to the mechanic, I smiled politely and told him that my husband would drop by later to PAY the bill.  Then I walked over and put the key into the door lock and stepped into OUR new car. Looking around inside the car, it didn’t really have my husband’s feel to it; it looked more like a race car, with black and red leather seats. Nothing like any car he had before. But it already had his stuff in there, his deodorant, his favorite mints, and a sweater I hated because I’m pretty sure he bought it with HER, lying on the back seat.

How stupid could I have been? How did I not see this earlier?
How stupid could HE have been? Did he really think he could hide a car from me?
And how could he choose a car over our relationship?

After sitting in the SLUT car for what seemed like eternity, I decided on my next plan of action. I turned on the engine and drove away. In my mind I had come up with the most devious plan. I was going to hide the car somewhere, so that when my husband would come to pick it up, there would be nothing for him to find. The idea seemed brilliant. After all as a married couple, the car belonged as much to me as it did to him and I too had the right  to drive it, sell it, or even put it on fire!

So that’s what I did….I drove the car into the middle of nowhere, stepped out, and started walking back to my own car.  As I reached my car and drove away to work, I felt alleviated. I had tricked the trickster; beat him at his own game. It was genius.

Well it was genius for the next 20 kilometers, when all of a sudden anxiety and worries flooded me. Once again my heart started pounding, and I could feel the adrenaline causing me to sweat. Could I do this? Was it allowed? Was it even legal? Could I be charged with theft or destruction of property?

So with these new thoughts and fears in my mind, I turned back around and drove all the way back, picked up the car and returned it to the car garage, where it had initially stood. But I did not return the keys to the mechanic I took them with me and headed home to confront my CHEATING, LYING, DECEITFUL HUSBAND!

At home, my husband was peacefully asleep (probably having dreams of his wild sex escapades with his slut). Quietly, I walked into the bedroom and woke him up.

Holding up the keys of OUR new Slutty Red Car in my hand, as soon as his eyes were open I said: “I know about the car. So I hope you enjoy it. You can have it; you can have the other car, and your motorbike. You can have all 3 vehicles to yourself, I’m leaving!”

That was it; I had nothing more to say. No more energy in me. Not to fight or yell, complain or beg, or even try to convince. I was all out of cards, exhausted and just done with it.

I put the keys to HIS new car next to his bed, turned around and walked out the door. As I closed the door shut behind me, I heard him call my name once, maybe twice. But what could he say that would make it alright? What explanation could he give that would make me turn around?

That evening, I booked a one-way flight back to my home country, to my parents home. After 3 months of keeping this awful secret inside me, it was time to face up to the truth and tell my parents that my MARRIAGE was OVER!

November 20, 2010

Hello World!

by bye2mrwrong

This is my blog and today I am coming out. No I’m not gay. I am super straight and totally in love with men. But today I am coming out with the truth.

I am getting DIVORCED! YES the marriage I had, the way of life I thought I had designed for me, the plans and dreams have all crumbled. And even I, a strong believer in love, and in marriage – could not make it work.

So its time to fess up and tell the truth. Why have I been hiding it for so long. What am I ashamed of. After all I did nothing wrong, except for letting myself be fooled. Except for trusting blindly with all my heart, and loving unconditionally.

I allowed myself to define who I am based on a man. But today I become a free woman. Free of this life. Free of these thoughts. Free to tell the truth and be me.

My divorce is tough. Not that there are any easy divorces, are there?! Let me briefly explain. I’m in a different country to my own, away from my family and friends, I lost my job… oh and did I mention my husband’s mistress is still in the picture?

So after months of tears, anger, and depression I’ve decided to create this safe space where I can share, and mostly complain (about my husband, his mistress, or even my lawyer who is taking his time and my money) without being judged. From this day forward this will be my place to vent, cry, laugh, yell and comfortably let out my feelings.