My Perfect Ring of Scars

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.

Wishful Thinking

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.

Chronicles of the Monsters In-Law: Brotherly Love

I don’t know if there was something about that year when my husband’s brother was born, maybe something in the water or in the air, but it seems men born in this city in that year are a bit off. Don’t get me wrong, they are all nice enough, but very insecure and weak, sexually inexperienced, and just a bit odd to say the least.

So when he finally met a girl at 30+, he seemed to rush everything, and totally fell head over heels. Of-course having never been with a girl before, or in love for that matter, he fell hard. So when she dumped him after only 3 dates he crashed rock bottom.

I’m not really sure what happened there (it was always a bit of a strange and secretive story) …but I do remember the nights he came over to talk until the light of dawn, the countless times he got drunk and fell asleep on our couch, the vast amount of kilos he shed, and the many tears he cried for her.

And then a few months later, out of the blue she was back into his life, and within two weeks she moved in with him…and things just fast forwarded from there; new car, new bed, new joined bank account, and within 3 months….a new baby on the way.

To be quite honest, after so many years of rivalry, harsh blows and degrading insults, secretly I always thought he did it just to spite my husband, and prove that he was better. To attest that he was not gay (as my husband had so many times teased him) and that he too could find love. It felt as though he just needed to show that he could be first. He had married first and would give his parents their first grandchild. He had won the race!

But when he didn’t want to go for a second child immediately (cause I don’t think he had planned on the first one either, and anyway we hadn’t even had our first, so no need to hurry), rumors have it that his wife slept around with at least 15 different men while he was at work…until one day he got a phone call for an anonymous raging lover who said: “sorry mate, your wife is pregnant. It’s not from me, but I also know it’s not from you”.

I guess you can see how that screws up a person (not that he wasn’t just a little bit screwed up to begin with) and well at that point he realized that not only was the second child definitely not his but maybe even the first child wasn’t either. Nevertheless the idiot did not initiate a divorce but with his hand forced the divorce went quite quick as he  agreed to give everything and was left with nothing but a huge debt, a large alimony sum to pay, and a broken heart. And since until today he is still in love with his first wife, he never did do a DNA test for that child. Maybe it’s his way of still having a bond to her.

It was only 3 months after the divorce was finalized, though still depressed and broken-hearted the idiot just like a puppet was manipulated to take in a new girl into his life. One which not unlike the first would lie and deceive, use and abuse him at her disposal, chew him up and spit him out.

Déjà Vu

It was about a year ago when it started. One day out of nowhere my husband invited HER over, an employee from work, who he had recently set up with his brother. She came alone, an innocent visit to chat about how things were going, or rather not going. It was all so very innocent, until she brought up this trip to visit her family in England and how much fun they would all have at the soccer game there.

What? Red flags shot up in my ears. Was this how I was being informed that my husband had already made plans to go to England without having first discussed it with me? I was furious. The sparks in my eyes, and questioning looks, were answered with a casual “oh no, we were just playing around with the idea.”

But it didn’t sound like just an idea to me. It sounded more like the tickets to the match were already bought, and the plans had already been made. Politely I told my husband we would discuss the issue later, not in front of our guest. He made a little fuss… and I could see the way he was looking at her, as if to say: crazy wife – I’ll do what I want in the end in any case.

And that he did. After weeks of arguing about this trip, he went anyway. I could not join as I had no more days off from work (something he knew in advance) and I had not agreed to him going either, but he could not care less.

To me the idea of him joining his brother and his new girlfriend not only on their first trip together, but on a trip intended for her to introduce her new boyfriend to her parents; seemed ridiculous, completely absurd. Actually it was a “tad” inappropriate even. Why would he want to be the third wheel?

Skipping forward one year, I feel a complete sense of Déjà Vu. My husband just went again with his slut and his brother to England to visit her family. Once again, I do not see the point, but by now who am I to interfere? It no longer has anything to do with me.

Still I find it strange and utterly distorted. Has he not learned anything? Why would he want to be the third wheel again? Whose hand does he need to hold as she and his brother tell her religious parents that she is “unexpectedly” pregnant? It doesn’t make sense. What exactly does he need to do there with them, on such an occasion?

It makes me sick to my stomach that no one is capable of seeing how twisted this is? That no one says anything, and that I am the only one who notices how perverted this threesome relationship is. Could it be that the three of them are not sure who the father of the baby is? Could that be the reason for him awkwardly tagging along?

Whatever the reason, it seems to me that “those who cannot learn from history are bound to repeat it”.

Wasted Time

In our lives there are many moments when we wait. As kids we wait to go to big school, we wait to get a bike without training wheels; we wait for our turn on the computer, or in line for a roller coaster ride. We wait impatiently to be chosen for a team in sports class and hope we won’t get picked last, we wait for our exam results and pray to God we passed. We wait for our dinner to be ready as our stomach makes growling sounds, and most of all we wait to grow up.

As teens we wait for our life to begin, we wait for people to treat us like the adults we believe we are. We wait to get our driver’s license, we wait for a phone call from that special someone we have a crush on, and above all we wait to be at a legal drinking age so that the real fun can start.

And as adults we keep on waiting. We wait for a reaction to that resume we sent in last week, or for a work meeting to start. We wait for a friend to show up and get a bit annoyed when they are late yet again, and we wait to meet our soul mate. We wait, we hope, we dream, and we look back at what we left behind.

But is our time so invaluable, so un-precious, that we should spend it waiting? What if it’s all just wasted time? What are we really waiting for? Shouldn’t we learn from the past and look to the future, seize the day, and make things happen instead of waiting for faith, or destiny to strike?!

For the past year my life has been a waiting game. While everyone’s life around me continues; friends are getting promotions, changing jobs, getting engaged, having babies, and meeting new loves; my life has been on hold, worse, it has come to a complete stop.

I’m so sick of it, so tired of waiting. I see the lines underneath my eyes (is that tiredness or depression?), the wrinkles in my face; and the white hairs starting to show. And I hear that biological clock tick away as it realizes that it is now further than ever from what just yesterday seemed so close by. I’m tired of fighting with my own demons, tired of crying, tired of feeling sorry for myself. I’m tired of being angry at everyone around me and tired of worrying that it’s all been wasted time.

And that’s exactly what I feel; it’s what I’m afraid of. My life wasted away even more as I wait for something no longer under my control. Waiting for the divorce to go through, for signatures to be signed, and inventory to be appraised. Waiting for a reaction from my lawyer, or a reaction from his. Waiting for the tears to stop falling, and the pain to go away. Waiting for karma to show its true face and for the universe to balance out. Waiting for my good deeds to be rewarded, and for his bad deeds to be punished. I am waiting until I can stop my mind from wondering what I left behind, and from worrying ’bout this wasted time.

“Well baby, there you stand, With your little head down in your hand. Oh my god, you can’t believe it’s happening again. Your baby’s gone and you’re all alone, and it looks like the end. You’re back out on the street. And you’re trying to remember. How will you start it over? You don’t know if you can. You don’t care much for a stranger’s touch, but you can’t hold your man. You never thought you’d be alone this far down the line.  And I know what’s been on your mind. You’re afraid it’s all been wasted time. The autumn leaves have got you thinking. About the first time that you fell. You didn’t love the boy too much. You just loved the boy to well. So you live from day-to-day. And you dream about tomorrow. And the hours go by like minutes, and the shadows come to stay. So you take a little something to make them go away. And I could have done so many things, baby. If I could only stop my mind. From wondering what I left behind. And from worrying ’bout this wasted time. Another love has come and gone. And the years keep rushing on. I remember what you told me before you went out on your own: ’Sometimes to keep it together, we got to leave it alone’. So you can get on with your search, baby. And I can get on with mine. And maybe someday we will find,That it wasn’t really wasted time.” The Eagles

The Glue That Holds It All Together

Today I found out that Christmas won’t be the same without me. And the thought made me smile! Apparently both my husband’s parents (his mom and her husband, and his dad and his wife) have decided to go away this year for Christmas. Actually I should rephrase and say they have decided to RUN AWAY, avoid the problems, and escape what has become of this totally screwed up FAMILY!

They have left my husband, his brother and the Slut on their own. In my mind this is a little bit like Karma, some sort of sweet revenge. You made your bed, now lay in it… the three of you!

Christmas is a family holiday, but this family has fallen apart. I had known it all along, that I had brought this small family together, that I had been the glue. But the confirmation of it once again still makes me grin.

My husband will never admit to it, but before I came along his relationship with his father was practically non-existent, and although they live only 5 minutes walk away from each other, they only saw each other on birthdays.  But since I’ve always been a family person, I reconnected, I sowed and I mended until those two couldn’t go a week without a phone call.

I hosted and invited, not only on special occasions but on casual Mondays just because. I called and I cared. I took the ladies out for movies, and I joined them in their hobbies. I went over the top on birthdays, and held up long conversations with parents, grandparents and even distant uncles and aunts.

But now that I’m gone, it seems that things have returned to the way they were 10 years ago. And while they may have been happy back then to be secluded “each to his own”, I’m sure that after having tasted the sweetness of what it feels like to be a real close family, now that’s its gone they may just miss it a bit.

Family Secrets

You don’t introduce your secret lover to your brother when you’re still busy screwing her, right? WRONG!

So now that SHE was dating the brother, I had no other choice but to see her. She was now part of the family. And while my husband was never close to his brother before, their relationship suddenly blossomed, and surely enough we were spending lots of time together: movies, restaurants, Christmas dinners and New Years.

Ugh….The thought that I had hosted her, that I served her drinks, that I shared a few girly moments with her, still disgusts me. The thought that while we talked, she told me countless lies to cover up the truth, angers me.  And the thought that we shared my bed and my husband, still cannot leave my mind.

But back tracking to when I was still clueless…. even though she was dating the brother, and I shouldn’t have felt threatened, there was something wrong. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. It seemed like every two minutes my husband was getting SOS phone calls from either his brother or her to help them save their new yet rocky relationship. No one kept me in the loop, something about TRUST issues, something with her past relationship(s). To be honest I wasn’t interested. I was just waiting for it to fall apart.

But when the phone calls became more frequent and my husband was spending more time at their place fixing their relationship rather than at home with me… I was getting quite annoyed. And when he ended up joining them on a week trip to her parents I was more than a little irritated. I was infuriated and flabbergasted. Why in the world would the brother want my husband to hold his hand as he met her folks for the first time? And why would she want my husband to be there, as she introduced her new boyfriend. And for the life of me I couldn’t understand why my husband would want to be the third wheel?

Little did I know what the problem was in their relationship that demanded my husband’s constant attention, mentoring and advice. It was only later that I discovered that the problems occurred when the brother found out about the affair those two had or were still having, a SECRET that was then kept in the family.

But since my husband has always been a good persuader, he managed to confuse his brother, blur his vision, distort the truth and manipulate him. He promised that what had happened was in the past and convinced him that it was over (otherwise why would he have introduced those two to each other). So the brother despite all the signs and signals staring him in the face, and due to his own weak personality preferred to pull the veil back down, close his eyes once again, forgive and continue on this rocky road.

Needless to say my husband did NOT mange to confuse me. As the signs became more evident so did my need to find the truth. Secrets are made to be found out with time, and as I continued to search I discovered that the affair that was supposedly over a few months ago was still happening, behind his brother’s back and mine; and with the encouragement and support of their mother (who is a story of her own).

What a family?

Friend or Foe?

“Keep Your Friends Close and Your Enemies Closer”

Every evening at dinner, my husband and I always discussed our work. We would complain about our jack ass bosses, gossip about our colleagues, tell each other the strange stories of the day, and laugh at the pathetic turn of events.

My husband had more than 50 employees working for him, most of which I knew, but once in a blue moon he would hire a new employee and tell me about them. And just like any other, one evening my husband told me about HER.  He had mentioned her before in conversation, but nothing worth taking notice of.  Now he decided to tell me more. She was from out of the country like me, around my age, and about to divorce. Her husband was one of those dull introverts with no social life, so even though she had been living here for 4 years, he hadn’t introduced her to anyone and she still had no friends.

After telling me about this new pathetic employee, he nonchalantly popped the question: asking if I could take her out. To try to convince me he told me even more:  She didn’t drink; she didn’t dance, was extremely shy and introvert, and really needed a girlfriend. So here I was thinking what the hell is the point? If I want a new friend I want one who’s a bit like me and shares MY interests. But if she doesn’t drink, then going to a pub would be quite boring. And if she doesn’t dance, then I might as well take my husband to a club; he could also just stand there, lifeless watching from the sidelines.  I felt like she was a volunteering project which was dumped on me and I had to play big sister.

While I wasn’t convinced I needed to get to know this girl, my husband invited her over anyway, to watch a movie at home with us. Strangely enough he chose horror, HER favorite genre and the only one which I absolutely HATE. But anything to be a good host, right?

Of-course the minute she walked in… I already had this bad feeling about her. Everything about her repulsed me. The way she talked so quietly it was almost like a whisper, the way she was so fidgety and scared as if I was going to devour her, the way she was already talking to my husband like they were best friends for years …

It wasn’t because I’m a jealous woman, but because we girls just have this six sense about other girls and their intentions. And we all know those girls! Their sweet, shy and timid manner may fool the men, but they don’t fool us. So when we meet a girl like that, we stay away, and make sure our men do too!

By the end of the evening I was completely convinced that I wanted nothing to do with her. But somehow in my husband’s twisted little mind he must have hoped that we would hit if off, become best friends, giggle together, maybe share a bed…

What was he thinking? Come to think of it what was she thinking? I can’t imagine ever wanting to meet the woman your lover is married to. Let alone try to become her friend. I understand now why she acted so antsy around me. It must have felt nerve wrecking. Not that I feel bad for her, don’t get me wrong.  The idea still freaks me out. Was she judging me? Scrutinizing what I looked like, how I talked, laughed, or dressed. Was she trying to become me? Hoping to one day take my place? Till this day this is still beyond me.

But since salvation didn’t come from me, and my husband could see that I wasn’t going to invite this girl every evening for dinner; he decided to do the next best thing to make sure she stuck around. He introduced her to his newly divorced brother!

Slutty Red Car for Cheating Husbands (Part II)

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!

Slutty Red Car for Cheating Husbands (Part I)

When I was still blind and happy with my marriage, unaware of the warning signs and red flags; I allowed myself to dream of the fairytale stories of a happily ever after. I saw myself in a dream home, with a dream car (actually two), prince charming at my side and of-course our 2 wonderful children (one boy and one girl).

Now that we were married I was already looking forward, and the next step was to buy a second car. A car that would be big and safe for those children we were going to have, a car with 5 doors so it would be easy to put them in and out of their car seats. A car that would be suitable for the family vacations I had already planned out in my mind. A family car!

(August 2008) When my husband wanted to buy himself a motorbike the previous year, I as usual didn’t have a say. It didn’t matter that I thought it was too dangerous, or inconvenient. Or that I actually didn’t see when he would have the time to ride it, or where to, considering we live in a cold and rainy country. But he made up his mind and bought the newest most expensive model, fresh off the production line. It was a black Kawasaki ZX-6R Ninja. In women terms what that means is – sexy bike, made for free-spirited bad-boys who want to show off, take risks and be wild. The bike of-course came with a whole new wardrobe of tight black leather jackets to complete the dangerous bad-boy look. I couldn’t say a word. It was HIS money, and this was the way he wanted to spend it.

(December 2009) When the following year, I decided that I wanted to have a second car for MYSELF, things were not quite as simple. The car became a negotiation game between us. I wanted a new one; he wanted it to be second-hand. I wanted a Peugeot; he would not allow for a French car, or a Japanese one, or even an American for that matter. I wanted a black or silver one (anything but red, which was the color of the first car I owned with which I had a horrible accident in and ever since felt that red was an unlucky car color for me), he wanted anything sexy – red included. I wanted a 5 door car (for the eventual kids), he didn’t seem to mind, a small two-seater sports car would have also been fine. So while the choices became smaller, the compromising (especially on my behalf) became bigger.

(January 2010) Although we searched and searched, went from dealer to dealer and browsed all cars online, we didn’t really seem to agree on anything. Not the model, the year, or the price.

It  was somewhere around this that time that I became aware that my husband had cheated, with an employee. A girl who he had brought into our home.  A girl I had hosted for New Years Eve dinner! And although he claimed that the affair was over, and we decided to try to rebuild our marriage; not knowing what our future would hold, I decided to put a hold on the car searching.

(End February 2010) One day I sat with my husband at a bar. We were having lunch and drinks; when out of the blue he brings back the car issue. “I want to get a car for MYSELF” he said. I was a bit shocked;” I thought you already had a car and a motorbike” I answered. “Yes but the motorbike is inconvenient, and I found a good car for a good price” he replied.

The car apparently was his mistress’s car, and she was selling, for a discounted price! My immediate response was HELL NO. Not only was her car small, with only 2 doors and RED, it was above all things HERS!!!

I couldn’t understand why he would do this, how he could even consider it? Was he attached to the memories he had there with her? Was he trying to help her out financially? Was she black mailing him? Or could it be that he just couldn’t grasp how unbearably painful it would be for me to see her car everyday and be reminded of the affair?

What ever the case was – my answer was final. I would not have that car; I would not sit in it, or drive in it, or even be made to look at it! I didn’t care if she was giving it for free, or even paying him to take it.

(March 2010) My husband and I resumed the car searching we had started back in December. But two weeks into it, he just turned to me to say he changed his mind, and actually didn’t need a second car.

But once again something felt wrong. It was those feelings in the gut of my stomach telling me that there was something I wasn’t being told, a secret I was being kept away from. So I did what I knew best. I started spying! But when the car was no longer parked where it should be, under her flat apartment, for a couple of days in a row, I smelled something rotten. I drove around the entire city looking for it. Looking for any place I thought she might be at: shopping, work, friends, family. But there were no signs to where it may have disappeared.

That weekend it hit me, the car was no longer there because she no longer owned it. But I hadn’t seen it parked next to our house either. Could she have sold it to someone else? My mind kept telling me not to let it go, that my hunch was right and I was on to something AGAIN! Inside I had a feeling that the car was already ours and parked somewhere where I couldn’t spot it. I know it sounds drastic and unbelievable (like something from a soap opera) but the idea stuck in my head and I couldn’t get rid of it. So after searching once again all over town, Monday morning before work, I decided to drive to the car garage which always did our car maintenance. And there to my total disbelief was her car, parked exactly as I had expected it, bright shiny and red, waiting for its new owners to pick it up.

I straightened myself, looked as confident and self-assured as I could, sucked in a deep breath, walked in the office, and asked if OUR car was ready to be taken home. The mechanic who knows me and my husband for years now, looked at me and without a trace of a doubt said “sure, give me a minute I’ll get your bill and the keys for you.”