It’s funny how things work sometimes; especially love and heartbreak.
There have been numerous Tony “incidents” in the last couple of months which have stung. From breaking a four-year seal on photos of his “ex” wife on Instagram on my birthday, to his taking a vacation with his wife for her 40th birthday, sans child, for the first time in ages. There are several examples, all shitty – for me.
Intellectually, its interesting to decompose the various scenarios and try to understand her perspective. There are a few options – she’s either an innocent in all of this and has no idea what he’s up to, to the other extreme of she suspects./ knows and is putting him through his paces to prove his love before she pushes him to move back in.
But emotionally, it doesn’t matter to me.
I have a pretty high tolerance for pain, clearly. When I give someone the short version of the Tony story I cringe when I list the scenarios and what it’s come to. For a smart woman I can be pretty dumb. However, a close friend stopped me from berating myself, reminding me I’ve obviously gotten something recently from the relationship, and she’s right.
But this isn’t about all the good.
In this moment, surrounded by friends and family, day drunk on white wine, I’m emotionally done.
Long overdue, I said no to a direct ask from Tony to see me earlier this week. I could have seen him, and chose not to. I recognize this could not be seen as a major accomplishment, but it was.
I was feeling good about this. Then last night, away with family, I noticed a missed call from him. I left it alone for an hour then succumbed and sent a text – “hey, saw I missed a call from you, what’s up?”
He called me back.
I picked up the phone, he said he was home alone (important for him to clarify) and done work and wanted to talk to me. It’s his pattern, you see. I’m the one he talks to. I’m the one he seeks understanding from. Lucky me.
We talked until I told him I needed to get back to my people. I had asked him what his plans were for the weekend and he was non-committal, mentioning only a lunch with his wife’s family on Sunday.
He and I have had a number of dialogues about his blocking me on his phone. You see, his phone is set to allow texts and emails to show up on his home screen. So when he’s with her, apparently she’s all over his phone and for the last couple of months he just “mutes” me so my iMessages go through as texts and don’t show up automatically on his phone.
It makes me apoplectically angry. I’ve told him time and time again, since I’m the only human with the pleasure of knowing everything he’s up to, he should just be honest with me. I’ve asked him to simply tell me when he’s going to spend time with her and their son, and let me know when he’s going to be free again. I’m not trying to blow his cover, and it helps me to know to not try to talk to him, instead of reaching out and then finding I’m blocked which means he didn’t tell me what he was up to and for me to feel rejected and hidden yet again.
He’s used to being conservative with the truth, so this isn’t comfortable for him. Sometimes, he’s managed to be fully transparent and honest.
But not today.
I’ve reached my tipping point, the term coined by Malcolm Gladwell. I feel set up and foolish, yet again. I saw a post on Instagram from him today, a picture of some art he’s having framed. He and I spoke about it a few weeks ago; he called me the moment he won it on eBay, super excited. I loved it and he suggested perhaps one of them could end up at my house.
We follow each other on Instagram. I commented right away how beautiful the pieces were and followed up with a text that said “That’s where I used to take all of my stuff. She’s a friend of my Mom’s. I still want one of those in my house BTW.”
I noticed it didn’t show “delivered” right away. Sure enough, I was blocked, and in that moment I realized he was with her, not alone. I texted “Never mind, I see I’m blocked. And forget the art comment, I’m an idiot.”
I then noticed she also commented on his IG post “I can’t choose just one frame!”
And that, my friends, is it.
Hours later, there’s a picture of them in an orchard; yay family time.
I’m even more done.
We are supposed to have an overnight a couple of weeks from now. He’s rented a condo for the night, arranged a very expensive dinner, we plan to do ecstasy together, have me peg him, go to a sex shop, the list continues.
I had decided to go through with it and leave the night as a milestone after which to cease our physical relationship. Not because there’s anything magical about that night and being able to end it, but only because it served as a date to get my head around.
At this moment, I don’t think I can go through with it. The more he tells me how different things are between his relationship with me than with her (I don’t do those things with her Ann, I don’t talk to her the same way, I don’t get what I need, blah blah) it makes me want to puke.
The more I think about a potentially innocent woman on the other side of the equation, the more I think about the level of deception in which he’s engaging, the more I think about the ultimate cowardliness and weakness he’s exhibiting by being unable to move one way or another, I just… can’t.
Of course, I’m blocked for the rest of the weekend, no doubt. There’s a lot I want to say to him but there’s not much point when it goes into the ether of the internet. I have to think about what to say when he comes back up for air, but I suppose, after almost two years, there’s really nothing new to say at all.
Maybe I will just send him the link to this blog and let him see it all for himself.