I was driving home from work yesterday afternoon and I was thinking about the fact that it was pancake Tuesday. I thought about how it would be so nice if Daddy and I could have made pancakes together. I started picturing it in my head… I could have added raspberries and chocolate chips to mine and Daddy could have added something Daddy-like to his. We could have poured them into heart shaped cookie cutters or moulds and just had a really simple but really sweet time together. And imagining that and thinking those thoughts made me really happy… I was literally smiling, driving along, thinking about it.
But then… it hit me like a ton of bricks. I started wondering if maybe he WAS having pancakes, just not with me. And I started thinking about all those little, domestic type of things that we don’t share together and likely never will. I started thinking about the fact that not only do we not share them together but he shares all those types of things with someone else – his wife. And as those thoughts started tumbling in, it made me feel not only jealous but sad and even a little mad.
It might sound strange but the fact that he has a wife – is not something I normally think about very much. I know the situation and have always known the situation from the very beginning but I just don’t normally think or dwell on the fact that he goes home every night and has dinner with his wife. He watches TV with her. He likely walks the dogs with her. He does all those sorts of things, those everyday type of things, with her. I know that they don’t sleep together – in both the physical sense (they have separate bedrooms) and the sexual sense and that they haven’t in many, many years. But I wonder… does he kiss her hello? Does he kiss her goodbye? Does his kiss her goodnight? Likely.
I try to tell myself – it doesn’t really matter. I wouldn’t want to be with him (or anyone) 24 hours a day, seven days a week. I tell myself that I like my alone time. I like my freedom. I like not being obligated to anyone else. I tell myself that I get all the best parts of him and his wife gets all the mundane and not so fun parts… all the hassles of everyday life with someone. She gets to pick up his laundry off the floor, clean his dirty dishes, get annoyed with toilet seats that are left up, deal with him when he is sick, all those sorts of ‘not so fun’ things. I tell myself – that when we DO get together – I have his full attention – 100 percent. Our time is limited but it’s super concentrated, quality time. I try to soothe myself with those types of thoughts and tell myself that it doesn’t really matter that he is married to someone else. But I think I’m starting to face the fact… that it does actually matter. It matters because he chooses to share the vast majority of his life, his being, with somebody else. That’s why it matters.
Last night he said that he ‘shares as much with me as he can at this time’. But in reality… he shares as much as he WANTS to share and CHOOSES to share. He chooses things to be like this. He chooses not to be with ME. He chooses to make me second best and second priority and I let him and tell myself it doesn’t really matter.
It’s confusing because we don’t treat our relationship like it’s ‘just for fun’… we treat our relationship as much more than that. I don’t think either of us really expected things to have developed between us the way that they did and now that they have – where does it leave us? It’s been almost two years ago since we started to talk to one another and it’s been about a year and half that we have been ‘dating’ and intimately involved.
As much as I don’t want to think about it and as much as I would like to convince myself once again, that it doesn’t really matter and that I should just enjoy what we DO share with one another and not worry about what we don’t… I’m not sure if I can go back into thinking that way. It hurts and it’s there – just under the surface and the more I think about it – the more I can’t pretend it doesn’t matter.
I deserve someone that is mine. I deserve someone who is willing and able to share himself with me and only me. Don’t I? Or am I throwing all the good things that we share between us out… just because I can’t have it ALL. I can’t have EVERYTHING. Am I throwing out the baby with the bathwater? Should I just appreciate the fun times we do have? Because the time we do get to spend with one another – is magical and loving and joyful. It truly is.
What do you guys think… I would love to hear readers opinions on this, especially if you have experienced something similar – no matter what side of the fence you are/were on (the wife, the mistress, the husband, the cheater, the one being cheated on)… I’m looking for no bullshit, honest, open, yet respectful opinions on the situation… those will be gratefully appreciated…