He wasn’t always this way… there was a time… he loved me…
I promise…. Those were the last words of his vows. He had promised to love and honor and cherish and treasure. He promised to give me benefit of doubt and grace. He promised to chose to love me on those days I was unlovable. He promised me his heart. Forever.
And, in the beginning he did… mostly. He had just turned 40, and I was 29 when we married. I was a first wife, he a second husband. We had orchards full of promise, Fields full of future before us. I couldn’t imagine him ever choosing anything or anyone above me. I couldn’t imagine doing that myself. I couldn’t see a future without him. So I let him write his name on my heart. And I took his last name… and we started off on adventure together.
The first few months were hard. His job was demanding and the hours were crazy-making. He worked the ‘nightshift’. (In his industry, that started at 2pm and went until it was done. Sometime that was 3am, sometimes it was midnight. But never before). On more than one occasion I would call him at the office, ” Hey! Remember that thing you got to do with your cock in my pussy? Yeah… that was Bc we’re married now. You need to come home.” Sigh… I should have known.
We had been told children were not an option for us. When you’re told your body can’t conceive, birth control is a non-issue. So when we discovered I was, in fact, pregnant, on his birthday, we were shocked, elated, terrified and amazed at the grace of God. We had that moment three times. Three beautiful miracles.
Somewhere between Miracle One and Miracle Two, he developed a porn habit. Between Miracle Two and Miracle Three… it became an addiction. His promise to forsake all others fell apart. He had no interest in the soft less-than-perfect mom body I now possessed. Even in my youth, I never had a lingerie models body… I’ve always been more of a runway build.
I discovered this addiction one sunny morning… I asked for his iPad to look up a piece of information relating to our conversation.I took it from him before he answered, and I was greeted by a busty blonde creature with her pussy exposed for his viewing, looking as though she was in the throws of an orgasm. I was stunned. He knew how I felt about the sex industry. Knew my very solid stance on porn. As I sat there, speechless, he said not a word. No acknowledgement. And the first brick in the foundation of my marriage crumbled.
Weeks after Miracle Two was born, his health became an issue. We were told how to deal with it, how to prevent further damage to his body. How to prolong his life. And I jumped on board. I learned everything I could. Changed everything that needed to be changed. And he rebelled. He would not allow his health to dictate his life. If it killed him, so be it…. and no thought for me left behind with two children to raise alone.
I don’t know exactly where in all of this his affection for me waned. But wane it did. We had a regular fight… every 90 Days… like clock work:
Me: You’ve got to engage! You’ve got to be a part of the family! You’ve got to give a damn!
Him: I know, I’m sorry! I’ll do better!
Me: You leave me vulnerable, Husband. You remove your affection and your love and you leave me vulnerable. Some day some man is going to walk into our lives… and I won’t be able to say no… because I’m so starved for love and affection.
Him: That’s not going to happen.
There were men that crossed my path and made overtures. One specifically asked me to leave my children and my husband for him, no preamble, no relationship, just request. One was also in a troubled marriage and wanted to leave together. One was a younger man, a Dom, that was in the midst of an affair with another family member. I confidently said, “No” to them, even when I didn’t want to. The only one I told him about was the first. He responded by claiming me as his territory. For a few days. Then his interest waned. Again.
He became an angry bitter man, feeling trapped in his world… taking his frustrations out on us.
I did everything I could think of to get his attention. I lost weight, I made myself up, I chose hard projects and accomplished them, I begged, I pleaded, I consoled, I demanded, I yelled and screamed. Nothing reached him. And finally he stopped seeing me at all. I tested this theory that I was invisible to him for a month. I went to bed without panties on in a nightgown for a week. No notice. I went to bed naked for a week. No notice. I intentionally left a wet spot on his side of the bed, while climbing into bed myself. No comment. No notice because he didn’t see me.
I had come to the realization that I was a trophy collecting dust on his bookshelf of life. One of the many things he collected and set aside, forgotten. Over the years I had dragged him to five different marriage counselors, each promising to help, and each telling me not to bother. I desperately wanted my marriage to work. I desperately wanted my children to have both parents. But it seemed I was the only one that wanted that. And so… I started piecing together a plan. And stashing away money and I hired a lawyer… and I asked him to leave. He refused at first. He made promises we both knew he wouldn’t keep. He reminded me of promises made in the undiscovered knowledge of his addictions.
He told me he would fight for me, which we both knew he wouldn’t do, because he never really did. And as we sat there, listening to him grasp at anything to keep his family together, including the lies he told himself, I watched my forever slip into its coffin and close the lid. I listened to it gasp it’s last breaths and die. And everything within me shattered.