Happy anniversary...

...to me! *

As of this weekend, it has now officially been ten years since the final collapse of that sham of a marriage of mine.

New here? You might want to pour yourself a drink and check this out, and also this and this, or a lot of what I'm about to say won't make much sense. (I'm not guaranteeing I'll make sense even if you know the whole sordid tale...)

Sometime after we'd reconciled, after I learned about the relationship he'd had while we'd been separated, he started seeing his boyfriend again (let's call him B). I don't recall how I found out, but as you might imagine, this didn't sit well with me. As you might expect, I told him he had to end it with him or end it with me, period. That there was no gray area here. His response was some shit about how he had to see B one more time to end it properly, to get closure.

He didn't come home for days. When we finally spoke (this was before either of us had cellphones, and I didn't have B's number) I told him if he didn't come home after work that day, he shouldn't bother ever coming here again, unless he was coming to get his stuff.

I honestly am not sure how, at this stage of the game, I thought we could somehow make this work. But I do remember saying there was no way to even try if he was, hello, LIVING WITH HIS BOYFRIEND. And he kept insisting he wanted to make it work, to be with me. Go figure. Much to my surprise, he came home. And we stuck it out for several more pathetic weeks...him not really wanting to be here, and me not trusting him at all.

Finally, one Friday night in January of 1997, we had plans to either go out to dinner or to have a talk (yes, we had to set up specific talk times... lame) -- I can't remember which. He didn't come home. I was livid, because it was pretty clear where he was. I spent the entire day Saturday fuming, waiting to hear from him. At around 8 or 9 that night, he called me, bawling, from the pay phone at the laundromat two blocks away. I told him not to bother coming over here, that he should just go back to B's, because I wanted nothing more to do with him. He begged and pleaded and bawled some more, and I caved.

I could barely even look at him, I was so furious. I can't even remember what he said to me, or how he tried to explain what he'd done. All I remember is asking if he'd had sex with B, he said yes (one of the few times he was ever honest with me during this fiasco, because he hated it when I'd get mad when he'd tell me the truth. dude, maybe you could try not to do things that make me mad...like, cheat!!) and I lost it. No, I didn't start to cry; all the anger and hurt I'd been carrying with me for so long finally bubbled over. Erupted, really. There was a lot of yelling - on my part. I said things to him I could never have imagined saying to someone I'd loved so much. This is also when I tried to hit him. I must have told him a thousand times to just get out, go, that I didn't want to see him ever again... and he wouldn't budge. I can't recall anything else he said, or why he claimed he didn't want to leave. Finally, after hours of this, I finally went to bed, and told him I hoped he'd be gone when I got up.

The next day, he was still here. He'd slept on the couch. I told him I didn't understand why he was still here, because I wanted him gone. I don't think he said anything, but he then went into the bedroom while I got something to drink. I then ended up on the couch in tears. I think I tried to read or something, but I don't recall. I remember sitting there trying to figure out what to do next.

This is where things get funny. Hours after he'd gone into the bedroom, I decided I needed to go in there and tell him again to leave. It was unbearable, this weird standoff.

He already had. Somehow, while I was in the living room, he'd managed to quietly pack up a few things (very few) and left without my knowing it. It was such a relief, on the one hand, because it was finally over...but it's not like I was ready to do a happy dance. Life was pretty painful for quite some time after that, but at least that giant uncertainty was gone. I could start healing.

I don't think I'll ever understand what the point of that relationship was. A lesson about getting past my fears? One of the main reasons the marriage lasted as long as it did was because I was afraid I'd never find love again.

Lo and behold, I haven't, but I ain't dead yet. And I've never felt as lonely as I was in that marriage.


*note: this is not sarcastic. this is sincere. this is a happy occasion, in a twisted sort of way.