I dream, but I rarely remember them. It seems to happen only when I wake up for a few minutes, then go back to sleep.
Last night I slept the fitful sleep of someone who had two wine dates with girlfriends in the same evening. At 3 am I drank lots of water and took ibuprofen to avoid the inevitable over-imbibing headache.
I dreamt I was traveling to Faraway Lover’s town. My hotel room phone was missing the handset, so I went to the lobby and asked for help to make a phone call. I ended up in a call center, where I tried to call his number. It didn’t work: I couldn’t get through. Continue reading →
With all the recent judgment here – I don’t deserve Leo, it’s always wrong to lie to save someone’s feelings, how dare I play a game with him while I have lingering feelings for another, etcetera – it got me thinking about my moral compass. I don’t think I’m unique in an ability to justify my behaviors and choices. And in some cases, we believe we would never do “that thing” until we find ourselves in a similar situation.
Having a blog is a great way to keep oneself honest, assuming one is honest in the first place.
My Tony posts from a year ago spoke about my unwillingness to engage physically with him if he’s being intimate with his again-wife. Well, as was obvious from my subsequent actions, my need to say goodbye in my way, and my love for him, trumped any moral challenge with being in what at that point amounted to an affair. Continue reading →
If you haven’t read about the recent “developments” with Tony, you can start with this post.
I know I’ve said it many times: this blog is extraordinarily helpful for sorting out my crap. I was in a good place with Tony, because I’d blocked him for weeks, successfully. I missed him but it was abstract, and I didn’t feel a pull to reach out or reconnect. When I unblocked him, I experimented with what it was like to be completely reactive – I let him call or text.
I hated how much the whole thing with Tony consumed my thoughts. Wondering what happened, how she found out, what their decision was (if any), and what was next.
I knew I may never get an answer. I knew the bulk of my interest was intellectual curiosity. Maybe most importantly, I knew that no contact with him was best for me. I wasn’t tortured at the thought of not talking to him regularly.
I was more upset with myself, at the time and emotional effort I’ve spent the last month or two seeing whether I could meet his need for us to remain friends. It wasn’t going to work, I’ve known it for a long time, but I tried anyway. Continue reading →
Tony and I have had two short conversations about his again-wife finding out about us (side note: yes, she’s his wife, again. I’m honestly afraid if I just call her his “wife” I’m going to get trolled like crazy, and the truth is they were separated when I met him).
In the first discussion, he told me she’d found out about Jamaica. I was confused because it seemed an odd “discovery” at this time, 14 months ago after we went. I asked how it was possible that us seeing each other after the sports game could possibly have led to that.
He was vague. He said “Ann, I don’t want to relive it again right now. There was a lot of screaming and crying.” Continue reading →
I haven’t been writing much about Tony these last many weeks, mostly because there isn’t much to say. I blocked him for a while to help myself break old patterns, then when I unblocked him he started calling.
I answered the phone when he called, and found our conversations frustrating – not because of anything he did wrong. I couldn’t find a happy medium where I could be his friend in a way meaningful to me. If he told me anything about the crap in his marriage, I would get (internally) frustrated because I thought he should be trying. Conversely, if he said something was going well, it hurt.
And bottom line is, despite all of his failings, he’s doing stuff with his again-wife and child that I wanted the opportunity to do. Continue reading →
I am writing this post fresh. Freshly angry. Apologies in advance for a lack of editing and shitty structure.
You’ll surely recall he (Tony) fucked me on Christmas eve, in the midst of family-oriented errands. He was fully ensconced in family time for Christmas and days afterwards. So naturally, he didn’t reach out. I am not part of that part of his life.
Which honestly down to my core was just fine – because it helped me put more nails in the coffin of what was left of our relationship.
Some of you recommended a scorched earth policy or an immediate “block and delete” response. But that’s not my style – that’s an exceptional action reserved only for dudes who harass me. Like the weird dude who sent texts like “are you ready to meet yet I’d like to chew on your clit”. Ewww. Or the guy who said “watch your fucking mouth cunt you’ll be sorry”. He’s the one who has been exorcised from this blog.
I haven’t seen Tony since I wrote my last post. He’s asked a few times, and each time I’ve said “no”. Each time he’s said “oh it would be so awesome to see you” or “I really missed seeing you on the weekend” I haven’t replied in kind.
For the first time ever, Tony told me he loved me. Despite some of you thinking it was manipulative, it seemed to me to be said more from surprise and compassion. I’d suspected for a long time he did love me, but it was wonderful to finally hear it.
Even if it was too late, and wouldn’t change a thing.
I punched him in the chest and say “you ass, why didn’t you ever tell me that before?”
He just looked at me blankly and said “I dunno Ann. Because I’m a guy? But I do love you.”
If I keep writing the sad and angry posts y’all might get the impression there was nothing good about my vacation with Tony. But that wasn’t the case.
One night, sitting by the ocean in the light of the sunset, he looked at me and told me how beautiful I was; even more than usual by the light of the sunset and in the Caribbean breeze. He’s never been particularly romantic, but I got some romance the five days we were together.
He was affectionate. He’d reach over from the deck chair or across the bed just to touch me, squeeze my hand, kiss my cheek or run his fingers through my hair. He got me so many drinks one bartender nicknamed him “the butler”. He said “good morning gorgeous”. Of course there was all the sex; three or four times a day, every day. Continue reading →