Journal Entry, Cont’d: October 30, 2014
Blue Eyes and I drive the short mile back to our house in silence. He, of course, does not say anything, at all, and I am still so much in my head I am not even able to form cohesive sentences. I need to calm myself down somehow. I need to be present in my life. We get home and I sit down on our bed. I sit there and he sits next to me, but he still doesn’t say anything. He has broken the cardinal rule. The rule that states: you must tell me the truth, the whole truth, as soon as you think of something, or remember something that is material to my life. You cannot lie by omission anymore. Just talk. Just tell me everything you remember and when you remember it.
I stopped obsessively questioning him a while ago, because I ran out of questions to ask. I have already asked him whether there were other women and he told me all about the three women. How can you forget about a whole other woman, person? Maybe it isn’t a woman. Shit, I do not know what to think anymore. When I realize he is holding my hand and I am concocting crazy scenarios in my head that could potentially be far worse than the reality of this situation, I finally break down and ask him if he is going to actually tell me anything about this fourth person. I am scared. My absolute worst nightmare is that he has a child with another woman. I am afraid every day that this secret of all secrets will eventually be revealed. The reason this thought bothers me so much, is because I could not turn my back on a child that belongs to my husband. Even if I despised the mother, I could never turn my back on an innocent child. It would be a sibling to my children. My mind is racing. My thoughts are out of control. He keeps saying he didn’t even want to tell me because he doesn’t think it is important, it’s not material to our relationship. He says he honestly did just remember it during a session this past summer. The Shrink told him he would probably need to tell me eventually, but Blue Eyes was not planning on telling me, ever. Then, as he prepared for his first step, this fourth acting out partner came up again, in therapy, and then again with his sponsor and another of his 12 step buddies. They said if he was going to share it as part of his first step, I needed to know. It was part of his history after all, and it happened while we were married. He still did not want to tell me. His therapist suggested that he disclose during our couple’s therapy since our couple’s therapist had been my therapist and I would most likely feel safe in that environment. “Safe” is a euphemism for “won’t harm herself.” Everyone is still so fucking caught up in the cutting incident. Not me, them. Do they not really understand cutting? I am not trying to kill myself. Oh, forget it. I have already explained this.
Even as he is talking about all the people that knew his “little secret,” I am flabbergasted by the fact that he never got it. That he never understood how much easier it would have been on me had he just revealed the information when he remembered it. If he had come home that day from therapy and said, during my intense dive into my sexual history, I remembered something and I wanted to tell you right away, because that is what you have asked of me, and I am a mature, adult who understands your needs and respects you and loves you enough, TO STEP OUTSIDE MY FUCKING CHILDLIKE ADDICTIVE WORLD FOR FIVE SECONDS TO ACTUALLY THINK ABOUT YOU AND YOUR NEEDS. But, NO! Instead, he keeps playing the same old fucking game he has been playing his whole life. What is easiest for him? Not telling his wife. People are now telling him he HAS to tell me. What is easiest for him? Telling me in front of other people, even though I have begged him not to do this and to tell me right away if he remembers something. Best-case scenario: if he had told me right away, last summer. Second best-case scenario: if he had told me privately once he made the decision to tell me. Third best-case scenario: if he had listened to his instincts and not told me at all. Worst case scenario: telling me in front of other people, 3 ½ months after remembering.
In the end, here is the information that was eventually disclosed to me by my husband in private later that day:
After my husband’s first affair (basically a long term grooming effort by a sick sex addict, which I am sure she would call an emotional affair, and a two-night stand), he was still living away from home on the weekdays and traveling back home to be with me, and the boys on the weekends. He had an apartment near the company that employed him most of the week. He was assigned to work with a divorced female on a project that lasted a couple weeks. They became casual “friends.” They talked, probably about personal shit because that is how my husband rolls. After the project, the woman was laid off. Nothing had happened other than some “innocent” flirting (really no such thing with a sex addict). A few weeks later, Blue Eyes was at the grocery store and he ran into this same woman. They started chatting and he suggested maybe they should go out to dinner some time. No doubt she gave off a vulnerable, desperate vibe. She said, why don’t you come to my place for dinner and he said yes, and they made the date for later that week. When my husband arrived at her home, she was already drunk (running theme here?). This was not appealing to my husband, but he stayed because there was the chance that there would be some free sex. As dinner progressed, she became more inebriated. After dinner, they moved to the sofa and started kissing. She then informed my husband that she liked her sex really, really rough. He became concerned. My husband doesn’t like anything rough. He’s a lover, not a fighter. She asked him to slap her across the face, to hit her, in the face. He told her no, he could never do that. He was afraid to go into her bedroom. His pattern was always to get off, then get out. They proceeded to masturbate themselves in front of each other, and then he promptly left, felt ashamed, and horrified, and swore he needed to stop his lying, cheating, perverted ways. Which he did, until Monica entered his life nearly two years later.
I sat there and listened to my husband’s sordid tale of a mostly failed one-night stand nearly 15 years ago and once again realized he is one fucked up son of a bitch. This story of his fourth acting out partner, who in chronological order is actually his second acting out partner, is just another in a long tale of messed up behavior that I do not and probably never will fully understand. He doesn’t even remember her name. In the end, I told him I wished he never told me, and he said, “I know, I didn’t want to.” Duh! Once again, the whole mess was not necessarily about what he did all those years ago, because in the scheme of things this was nothing compared to his horrifying eight-year affair partner. What really hurts, is that he doesn’t seem to be making the progress necessary to be able to put my needs before his own. Being able to respect my needs and put me first will be crucial to the success of our marital relationship. Is he not able to “get it,” or does he just not want to?