Secrets I'm Letting Myself Discover

I'm bare and you don't like it

2007-06-26T14:35:00.000-05:00

Usually in relationships, real or imagined ones, I've been closed off. I've kept my feelings and emotions close to me in an attempt to not be hurt. I'm the girl who used to smile pleasantly and tell you everything was alright when all I wanted to do was curl up and cry possibly even die. But not this time. This time I laid it all out there. And I did it without fear. I knew it might turn out badly but so be it.
I told you how I felt. I told you what I hoped for. I even admitted to being jealous. Admitting jealousy is huge for me. Hell, it's huge for most people. Most people don't want to open themselves up enough to admit jealousies and insecurities. I know I never have. I've always been the strong one. Never let them see you cry. That was what I lived by. But to you I admitted it all.
You aren't in the same place I am. You don't feel the same way. It hurts. God, it fucking hurts but you know what? I'm glad I told you. For the first time in my entire life I feel like a grown-up. I know that sounds silly but it's true. I didn't play games. I didn't wait it out. I told you how I felt knowing it would probably not turn out the way I wanted. It didn't but it will be just fine. I will be just fine.
I could go the normal route and be the angry bitch. I could cut you out of my life. I could wallow in my pain and curse you to all my friends but I won't. You didn't do anything to me. I did it to myself. I had unrealistic expectations. I do have to thank you though. Something about you gave me the courage to be honest. For so long I've kept myself closed off and have not allowed myself to feel anything but bitter. Without hesitation I opened myself up to you. I told you my secrets. I exposed my vunerabilities. I gave you the power. I discovered that even though it hurts it also feels good. I'm proud of myself because I didn't hide. Thank you for allowing me to grow. Thank you for letting me be honest. Thank you for showing me next time will be that much easier.
However, it's so sad about us you know, very very unfortunate. I wanted the best for us, for you, for me, for them. But really, what are we but lies? I lie to you non-stop, you repeat the same. The past never left us, and future can not be ours.

Peeved

2007-06-25T09:24:00.000-05:00

Myspace is incredible. And I don’t mean that in the “wow, this is such a great way to meet/stay in touch with people! And it’s so much fun! And it’s awesome!” No, I mean it’s incredible because it allows one to witness just how far into the depths of stupidity my generation has slid.
I joined myspace somewhat against my will, because I saw it as this huge trend that I refused to follow. Also, I thought it was for folks a tad younger than me; I may be only 26, but I certainly feel older, and deciphering the young-speak that is “C U 2morrow!” and “CrAzY 4 U” and screen names like “~*~bOoTyLiCiOuSbAbY~*~” seems beyond my grasp. It makes my brain hurt just looking at it.
But, beyond the abbreviated and alphanumeric vernacular that’s somehow erupted among the 21 and younger set through a culture of text and instant messages that exist in the interest of brevity, there’s a far more heinous crime being committed.
It seems that, when called upon to make a clear and insightful statement, even one for just explanatory purposes, this culture, this generation, this age bracket, has lost all ability to communicate. It’s as though, in possibly the classes that graduated a just year or two after I did, teachers just stopped teaching English. Or the students stopped listening. Because the way people write anymore, the stuff that’s out there now and passing for acceptable? It’s terrifying.
You’re unable to click on a profile, a photo, a “blurb” or a blog without being assaulted by some glaring grammatical error. And not an easy-to-confuse one, like that tricky “i before e, except after c.” No it’s your basic contractions and possessives I’m talking about. Spelling in general. Subject verb agreement. Subject arrangement. Everything.
I mean, sure, it’s easy to mess up grammar when you’re just talking. Because, I understand, you say something without thinking, and then it’s just out there: “Is there any plates left?” Before you realize what you’ve done, you’ve gone and made yourself sound like an asshole. But you can cover it with, “Oh! Oh my god! I meant to say are, I’m sorry.” And while your gaffe is already out there, unless that’s a constant misstep on your part, I won’t judge you based on that alone.
But in writing? Where you have the ability to go back and reread and double-check and correct before anyone else gets a chance to see it? When we have computers with numerous programs meant to circumvent such embarrassing mistakes? That, I cannot forgive. Because not only could it mean that writer was lazy and unwilling to proofread, it could also mean that they did read it, and to them, it sounded fine. And that makes me cry a little bit.
It’s not that I expect myspace to be an eloquently written grammar showcase. Much like I approach this very blog, I just expect to be clear. And to not sound like, or appear to be, a complete idiot.
Perhaps you think me too judgmental? Maybe you think I’m exaggerating a problem with which only I am in tune. I highly doubt it. I submit to you the following examples:
A big offender: “Definately.” It’s all over the place. There is no “a” in definitely, people. Not a one.
You and me vs. You and I. This one is really tragic to me, perhaps the saddest error of them all. Because, beneath photos of the poster and a friend at some sandy location, a myspacer will write “Phyllis and I at the beach.” And I just know that this person thought that sticking the I in there would make them sound educated. But it doesn’t. Because if you take the “Phyllis” out of that sentence you’re left with a messy little description with the wrong subject. It’s okay to use “me” people. It’s not the bad word you think it is when it comes to grammar. Sometimes, it’s appropriate.
The tragic misuse and confusion of the following words: It’s/its, you’re/your, and their/they’re (and sometimes, if you’re really lucky, the discriminating grammar offender will toss a “there” in there as well).
There are run on sentences, errant commas, and fragments. Some people lack punctuation entirely; others just don’t care, so that statements that begin as questions end with the thud of the period instead of the question of its namesake mark. Thoughts drift to and fro, without rhyme, reason or cohesion; they can’t be followed, and there’s certainly no sense to be made from their words. Reading most of the profiles out there makes me want to weep.
How do they survive? How can they function in a business world? Microsoft Word might be able to catch your spelling mistakes and point out your run-ons, but it can’t catch everything. Is it that they’re lazy and can’t be bothered to look for something that Word might’ve missed, or is it that we’ve become so heavily reliant on programs and auto-correct that we don’t even know right from wrong anymore?
I’ve been called a grammar snob by, oh, everyone who knows me. I’m perfectly willing to admit that I will judge you based on how you speak or how you write. This isn’t rocket science. This is English. The language you speak to survive on a daily basis. It shouldn’t be so difficult. And while, sure, English is a tricky, non-phonetic, unexplainable and sometimes nonsensical language, it is ours. Shouldn’t we at least be able to use it properly?
I’ve noticed that a lot of people are quite passionate about immigrants, and how if they’re going to live here, they should speak our language. As the child, friend and future in-law to many an immigrant - all of whom worked hard to learn English - I understand and support what they’re saying. But sporting a bumper stickers that says “If you can’t speak the language, leave” is putting out there an awfully tall order to fill. Most immigrants I know speak better, more proper English than many of us born Americans. Because, apparently, we don’t even expect people who were raised speaking English to speak it well; We’ll just settle for its bastardized, slightly retarded son.

2007-06-06T07:30:00.000-05:00

Do you ever get the feeling that time is passing by way too quickly? That's how I've been feeling lately, like I'm running out of time, but not out of things to do. And although for once my life has taken a notch down to "semi-stressful" I still feel majorly stressed. If there isn't one thing then there's another that needs to happen and they're all top priority. My finances are all out of wack lately because I've been doing so much impulse buying. My house is crazy nasty, and my kids are just way too much handle lately. The Hubby however, for some strange, mad reason, we're...get this...HAPPY.
I know, I know, I can't believe it either, but it's true.

An explanation

2007-05-30T09:44:00.000-05:00

I feel like the only time I come here is when I'm hurt, sad or confused. But it's MY blog damnmit and I come and share what I wish...right?

I say that because I was just reading through some of my past post and the mood is so down and out. The black layout really "becomes" this blog. By reading this blog I am leading one to think that I am nothing but hurt, sad, or confused at most times. And I assure you that is not the case. Not at all. There are days where I feel as if I don't have a care in the world, nothing goes wrong, we don't argue, the kids don't work my nerves, I leave work early buy a really cute pair of shoes and the world is at peace. And that's not to say that their aren't days that I wanna break out in tears and cry, pull my hair out, kill someone, or scream and curse the world.
It's just to say that there is a "happy medium" if there is such a thing

You interpet my dreams

2007-05-21T11:14:00.000-05:00

Last night I had a dream about you. And it seemed so freaking real that I was even a little mad at you when I first woke up. I know it sounds silly, I know, and I didn't even let on about it for those reasons, I didn't want to go into the story of explaining my dream, or why I woke up with an attitude, so I quickly forgot about it. I just wonder why I keep having these dreams so often, what does this mean if anything? Call me paranoid or what you may, but I have some serious trust issues that go far beyond you or me cheating.
Sometimes I get so scared that you'll stumble upon this blog that I want to delete it almost everyday. Sometimes I don't write for days for fear of discovery, and other times, it's the only way I feel better, is to write about it. It's my only way of getting it out.
I just hope you know, that no matter what happens with us I love you. No matter how good or bad I am to you, I love you like I love no other.

Fleeting thoughts...

2007-05-14T08:12:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I forget to smile and I'm always met with your caring eyes and a "what's wrong baby" That makes me feel good, you know, that you care enough to ask, but it also worries me because I honestly have no idea that I'm always frowning, or looking so unhappy. You did that a total of 4 times this weekend.
What's wrong with me?

Rejection

2007-05-10T06:49:00.000-05:00

You selfish ass bastard, always making everything about you. But pretending it's always only about me, laying the guilt trip on me, taking what little happiness I have left from me. You will never know how much I hate you right now, it's burning my eyes this hate is so strong. Last night was the final straw, the last leg. It's always so fucking tit for tat with us. So goddamn childish. And I absolutely hate that shit.
I am so emotionally drained right now. You are no longer worth my tears. I will hold my head up high knowing that I did all I could do to convey the depths of my feelings, both good and bad, to you. I might not have always expressed myself in the most adult or rational manner but at least you knew how I felt. When I made a mistake I quickly apologized. And apologized. And apologized again. I apologized in every way I knew how. I made an ass out of myself apologizing even though it wasn't all my fault. Did you ever apologize? Did you ever admit your faults or did you just blame everything on me? On my behavior? It seems I'm always the one to apologize. Why you ask? Because I want you to like me. I want you to love me.
Except today I don't want to dig that deep. Today I want to skim the surface so you should love me because I'm lovable and loyal and a goddamn good wife and person.
I know I have my faults. I'm hard headed. I'm demanding. I'm foul mouthed. I have high expectations and act an ass when those expectations aren't met. I'm spoiled. And I think I'm a princess. Fuck that, I KNOW I'm a princess. But with all of that I'm still the person who will listen to you bitch about your job, your health, etc... I'll answer the phone at 3 a.m. because you need me to. I'll send you stupid emails just to try to make you laugh. I'll stand beside you no matter what. See here's the thing... I may get mad and tell you to fuck off but pretty quickly after I'll apologize and do anything I can to prove myself to you. I've never walked away from someone for forever. Everyone has always gotten a second chance with me. Why do you think all those boys I used to date, all the ones who broke my heart, still think they can come around? Because no matter how tough and bitchy I come across I still have a huge capacity for love and forgiveness.

Except for you. You are no longer worth my tears.

Blowjobs

2007-05-07T13:07:00.000-05:00

Have you ever been with a guy that says he doesn't really like blowjobs?
Or maybe you are one of those guys.
Let's see if any of these sound familiar:

1. "I really don't like blowjobs but I love going down on a woman."
2. "Maybe I just haven't been with someone who knew how to do it right."
3. "It just doesn't do anything for me but if you want to go ahead."
4. "I've never come from a blowjob."
5. "You can try but I'd really rather just fuck you."

All of the above have either been said to me or one of my friends. I find it quite intriguing. I can't figure out if men really have decided they don't like blowjobs or if these are just lines to make us work harder. Is it reverse psychology to make us try to please? Is it a contest? I dare you to make me come. I really just can't figure it out.

Giddy Giddy Giddy!

2007-05-02T08:47:00.000-05:00

Guess who crawled under my desk yesterday? That's right, MOSONSC (My Old Sort Of New Still Crush). It was all under the pretext of getting something he had dropped under there, but we all know why he really wanted to get under my desk. My first instinct was to remain seated and let him crawl on down there and go to town, however, my desire to remain employed led me to another decision. Though I got up out of my seat, I stayed close by.
Then my boss walks by and sees him under my desk. She was coming out of her office, and did a double take.

BL: What the hell is he doing down there?
ME: He dropped something and is looking for it?
BL: That just does not look right.
ME: I hear ya. At least I didn't stay in my seat.
BL: Definitely something you don't see anyday.
ME: Indeed.

BL found that to be very amusing.

During this exchange, there were random musings from MOSONSC (It's dirty down here. What should I do with this box?). I had to keep telling myself not to laugh. He said "box".

I'm totally 12 years old. And he really is my secret boyfriend!

Grief

2007-05-01T10:43:00.000-05:00

I haven't talked to you in so long. Well not soooo long, but it's been a few months, I started missing you a long time ago. Even tired to hold out and wait for your call, or shall I say your excuse(s). Needless to say, I broke down. You didn't seem to happy to hear from me though. Thought I had "left the country" huh? How concerned!
You know, it all started with you daddy. You were my first disappointment. My first let-down. Don't you think it should've been so different with me and you? I do. And secretly sometimes I hate you for it, through all my love I have for you, I hate you just as much. And you'd never know it. Because no matter what, instantly when I see you, hear you, talk to you, I become: daddy's little girl all over again. Why would you have that power over me? Why would I give it to you, harvest it, and allow it to grow throughout these years?
I haven't called back like I said I would, and not because I want to teach you a lesson, but because I want you to make the first move. I want to know you care.
Come visit me. I've been gone 4 years, you've never visited...ever. I haven't seen you in 2. My kids don't know you. You don't know my kids. You can barely remember their names at times. And I'm shaking my heading and laughing as I typed that, but daddy, that shit hurts the most.

Can I Take the Good with the Bad ?

2007-04-27T14:24:00.000-05:00

Does it say something about how my week is going - or at least about how my day will go - when I come in to work to find a dead mouse under my desk? Is that some kind of omen? He didn't die of natural causes, so it's not like he came here to die or anything. But of all the mousetraps in all of my office, he had to eat out of mine. It started when I came in this morning to see my two coworkers taking the garbage out behind my desk. They thought there must've been food in there, and that's where the slight odor was coming from. But, an hour later and the smell was still around. After three puffs of Febreeze, I finally moved the garbage can to see if food had somehow fallen behind the bin itself. And there it was: A mouse, curled up, post mortem, hiding behind my trash can. After yelling and calling out to "GET IT OUT OF HERE" (because whomever set the trap is therefore responsible for removal of the corpse), it's gone...But it seems to be the icing on top of the really shitty cake that is today.

The Perfect Imperfections of Our Relationship

2007-04-18T08:11:00.000-05:00

I think about you all the time - when I’m driving, when I’m working, when I’m alone, when I’m in the middle of a crowd. I think of your eyes, your smile, the smell of your shirts, and the feel of your fingers wrapped around mine. You laughing at something totally silly and me just getting "it" right away. I resent work and the demands that keep us away from one another throughout the day. I want to spend my every breath on you. It's weird because even when we're mad, happy, no matter what, I still want you there. To be mad with me, to be happy with me. Doesn't matter, just there...together.
The way I think about you - the fantasizing, the wishing and the longing - borders on obsession. Because while a good majority of what I think is pleasant, passionate, and romantic there’s the other side, too. The side that wonders what you could be doing right now, and then realizes it could be anything, and I’d never know.
These trust issues that I have - this constant worry that I’m being made a fool, the rush to find something out before you can betray me - it’s not your fault. I was like this before you, and probably always will be. I’m the product of one too many bad relationships, my own indiscretions, and a mind packed full of stories of men deceiving their women. It’s all shaken inside of me, and I come out with this cocktail of suspicion, mistrust and fear.
It hurts me the most when I’m feeling particularly insecure - because of hormones, a fresh story or a stale memory. Those days, it’s all I can do to smile. Lifting the corners of my mouth feels like such a colossal effort, when my mind is thick with questions, feelings and probably tinged with my own guilt as well.
They say that if you have to ask a psychic if your other half is cheating, then you already know the answer. And that a women’s intuition is nearly flawless when seeking out betrayal. But I don’t buy that. I think that there are women out there, like me, who have been given every reason to trust and believe and fall into the soft security of a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love, yet cannot shake their demons, the little voices whispering into their ears. The demons that make them check the computer history, and find themselves unsatisfied with whatever they unearth: If there’s nothing, their other halves were just good at covering their tracks. If there’s something, then…Well…There’s something. The demons that make them ask questions so obviously directed at seeking out his whereabouts, making him - without asking directly - account for every minute of his day. The demons that suggest that phone call he’s making - right in front of you - is to his other girlfriend.
And you’ve been nothing but incredible most times. You’ve been honest and forthright when you need to be, and you’ve told me the little white lies when I needed them. You’ve shared your life with me. We’ve been through death, disease, surgeries, robbery…We’ve seen parts of the world together, and parts of each other that no one else has ever seen. We talk about our future. You call me every night on your way home from work, you devote every minute you can to me. And yet, still I wonder. Maybe it's because of the past, our past, and my own. Maybe it's because I still have thoughts, and you are insisting that you don't.
I don’t call you when I’m on my way home to you, almost hoping to find you mid-transgression. I don’t want to give you that warning shot; I’m just going ahead and firing. I think about our future, but I leave it open and remind myself that nothing is set in stone. You suggested, that we should get tattoos together. I recoiled and knitted my eyebrows, worried that doing that is too permanent. Because what if you leave? And although I did it anyway, you never went through with yours.
I’ve been told for years - years that knew me before I knew you - that I wasn’t worth sticking around for. That someone better than me would come along. I was reminded that I’d never be thin enough for anyone.
I still wanted to get married. After all of that, after all of those hurtful words, all of that possibly irreparable damage, I still wanted to get married. Because I was weak and hurt and it seemed the only way to patch up the broken me that I’d become.
I had to force myself to move on. I cried for weeks on end, I didn’t eat. I barely slept. And somewhere around the time that I found myself getting better, you found me. You took me in and you tended to my broken pieces. You saved me.
And, now, sometimes, I forget myself and take all of that history out on you. I do. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that I snoop and dig and seek things that aren’t even there; I’m sorry that I make you constantly defend and reiterate that you love me, that you’ll always be around, that you’re never going to leave. “Don’t you know by now that I love you?” you say, “After all that we’ve been through? You think I could just wake up one day and not love you anymore?” I don’t know how to answer you, though. Because I know what you’re getting at when you say those things: That you do love me, that my insistence to the contrary is so obscene that it’s crazy, that your words are almost rhetorical, meant to remind me that my believing otherwise is pure nonsense. But yes. Yes I do. I think that love to me means more than it does to anyone else, including you. I believe I love you more. And yes, I believe that one day you will wake up and wonder why you ever let me in; wonder why you ever kissed me in the first place, got married, had our kids, loved me at all.
And believe we both know all too well that marriage doesn’t fix things. And I know you’d never do anything to hurt me. Just like I know that the sky is blue and Florida is humid and taxes are due on April 17th. I know it. But, sometimes, I just can’t understand it? I can’t internalize it? The rational side of me knows the score, but my irrational side tries to persuade me otherwise.
I’m just grateful for you being here, and sticking through it. For convincing me when it was the last thing you wanted to do. You’ll never, ever know how much that means to me.

You save me every day. From myself.

Stressed

2007-04-16T12:37:00.000-05:00

Dear Mother,
I've been wanting to say a few things to you for the longest, probably way too long than normal. I love you, God knows I do, but you need to get your shit together. You need to wake up and realize that you're no single fucking person living in this world alone, you have children, and although I am grown and taken care of you have a 15 year old daughter that you've just pushed off on me to raise all by myself. In the year that I've had her mother, you've sent 40 dollars! 40 dollars! I have two children as well. They cost money, and now I have three. It's unfair that everyone else has to step up to the plate to mend your wounds, your issues. It's unfair that you won't get a job, and KEEP a job. It's unfair that you love him and continue to stay with him when you know he's toxic. And I believe he tries, never for a minute do I think he would ever do half the shit he does out of cruelty or ill-intent, but he's not strong. And what worst to pair up with than a weak woman with an even weaker man?
Grow up for God's sake, better yet for K's sake! Why don't you have a car? Why don't you have a job? Why did you waste your entire income tax on YOU, him, and weed? Why the fuck didn't you come back? You know how disturbed K is? She's really got issues, you should hear the crap her counselors from school tell me. She won't talk to me, even when I ask. She's a liar just like you. She's a quitter just like you.
And I know that your youth was hard, I hate your family for all they've done to you. Every one of them looks down their nose at you, and neither of them are no where near being far better than you are. Momma, what I'm saying is that I know everyone has shit to work through, but you, you've always had "shit" to work through. It was no need to for us to live the way we did, no need for you to live the way you live now. Put that weed, and beer shit aside, and again GROW the fuck UP! Love alone doesn't keep a family together and off the street, love alone doesn't pay the bills and it sure as hell doesn't make everything all right. Because of you mom, I am overly sensitive, and soft on my own kids, and in my personal life. I love you for that, that in no way is a bad thing. But we needed more. K needs more now, and you still have time to change, you just have to want to.
Why do I feel more mature than you? Be the mom, not the friend. There's no reason you should let K curse in front of you. You would've never let me. Never. And just because circumstances have gotten a little out of hand is no reason for her to do so. Have a back bone, speak your mind. Leave him, and do what's good for you. Even if it does suck, do it, cause you have an obligation to K and yourself to be better. It's not alright to just be "comfortable" you've lowered your standards and now you are low.
And although your problems lie far beyond money reasons, I just don't know what else I can do to help, if you won't help yourself.

Unsent

2007-04-12T11:44:00.000-05:00

These are the unset letters to boys that once loved me, they have each made some sort of significant change in my life. I thank them for it. Maybe not at that time, but now, in retrospect, I too, love them.

Dear T,
It has been so many years since we were together but I will never ever forget you. You helped me to become the woman I am today. You let me know how it feels to be loved for the first time. The lessons I learned from you were lessons I needed to learn and I'm so glad you were the one to teach them to me. You will always own a piece of my heart. I still think about you to this day, even with my life, even with my husband, I still love you like no other. You are my first love. I regret the things I did to you, to lead you to treat me the way you did. But we were young, and crazy. Maybe a little age and maturity was all we really needed. But now it's too late for us. I have my life, you have yours. And though, sometimes I'd give anything and everything to be back in that time, to be able to do it all over and correct my mistakes, I know it won't matter because you're no longer that person. That was the sweet "T", the man you are now scares me. He screams peer pressure, and cultural norms, but I'll always love the old you, for you made me...the new me!

Dear M,
I'm sorry. That's all I ever wanted to say was that. I know I hurt you, over and over, and yet when anyone turned their back on me, you were ALWAYS there still looking at me, and yet, loving me through the imperfections. You were everything any sane woman would want in a man. The problem was I wasn't sane. I'm still not. I hope you are happy. I worry about you sometimes and wonder if I damaged you very badly. I hope I didn't. I never deserved you. I'm sorry.

Dear H,
I loved you too much. I still do. The truth is I didn't even want you when I first met you. You were just the entertainment. So fun and full of life. The flavor of the month. Funny how that came back to bite me in the ass. You were tragically broken and I was going to heal you. Except in trying to heal you I too became broken. You were self-destructive and I was going to save you but in trying to save you I almost destroyed myself. Even with all of that and all I know now I still miss you. Tragically, for me, I still love you. And the funny thing is out of all the guys I'm writing my "unsent" to, I honestly believe that you're the only that still loves me too.

Dear D,
Timing is everything. Why is ours always off? Why hadn't I met you first, before I met HIM? Why couldn't I have been as good to you as you were to me in the beginning? When we met the first time I was still struggling to breath. I was just leaving home, never once lived on my own made my own rules, and I went crazy. We found comfort in each other until we didn't anymore. No matter what we might have said ord I done to each other in the heat of the moment I will always be here for you. And though not in the sense that others may think because we both know that I will lose everything if we were to have actual contact with one another. We aren't quite ready to forgive each other yet but hopefully someday we will find our way back to each other even if it is just as friends. I want you to be happy. I hope you are happy. And I hate that I made you cry that night the way you did. Every time I hear that song that was playing in the back ground I have to fight to hold back tears, because in that moment you changed something for me, and I realized that it's not always just about ME, other people's feelings mattered. You mattered. And although I could never love you enough, or how you wanted me to, I tried for a while. But it was just so exhausting, so confusing having to choose between you and HIM. You treated me like I have never been treated before. Both mentally, emotionally and better yet sexually. I want you to know, I hope you know.

Dear A,
I just recently found out your married, and living extremely close to my family no doubt! Well good luck on that one. I think that you're significant in my life because you took my virginity and you were the first to mention "love" in our relationship, but oh how insignificant you are in the BIG scheme of things. See, my husband is aware of you but doesn't know you de-virginized me. He thinks (because I've told him and everyone else) that T did it! And it's not that I'm ashamed of it, or you, or me at that time in my life, it's jut because...I always hear women say, "you'll always love your first" but honestly A, I never loved you. I only did it to get it over with, and because everyone thought I was already doing it anyway. I wanted to know what the big deal was. And you were so mean and cruel about it. I guess I shouldn't have lied and told you I weren't a virgin, so you wouldn't be looking for some experienced slut like you were. It does hurt that you told all your friends how I bleed all over your sheets. Maybe even thought it wouldn't get back to me, but you told one of T's friends, and of course T told me. He knew details, details A, so I know he wasn't lying. For some reason back then I never had the courage to bring that up and confront you on it, just let it go and vowed to never fuck you again. But you are the sexiest man I've EVER dated.

A Change In The Tide

2007-04-10T09:45:00.000-05:00

Things have started to change- you know, on this roller coaster I call life, you call love, I call prison. One day I'm in the dumps: hurting, aching, moaning and wanting for another life, another chance at something different, and then in the next moment, I'm content, not happy, but content. And for me, for US, that's good enough. To just be something other than mad at each other. To be able to come home and know that No, I'm not walking into another argument that's just an extension of last nights, and No, I'm not afraid to even walk past the door for fear or getting some horrible headache.
It's been different. Different in a good way lately, in a way that I hope never will pass.
When I walk into the house, I'm greeted of course by my wonderful kid's smiles and hugs and kisses, but now by a smile as wide as my own. By a hug as tender as it is filled with love. And by compassion that's starting to sweep me off my feet. I like this. Like this feeling, and I never know how long it's ever gonna last so I wanna savour it. Enjoy every single delectable bite. I wanna take this dream life I've been living over the last couple of days and make it all my own.
I wish he knew how much easier and better it made my life when we were "this" way. How good I feel throughout the day just knowing I have him there to come home to.
It's wonderful, and I never want it to end.

Stiffled Creativity...

2007-04-05T08:21:00.000-05:00

I feel like being creative today
But I honestly have to say
You've drained all my energy away
So I stare at blank paper
And nothing else comes my way.

This is how I feel today, drained, empty, tired. My DH and I are just aweful, aweful to each other. I hate being this way, I'm stubborn, but when I'm right, I be damn if I'm going to give in just for the sake of arguement. I've done that too many times, and so has he, but damnmit, this time it's NOT MY FAULT! Why the hell does he want to just place this blame on me just because?

Tight wound ball of tangled mess.
Find the end, relieve some stress
twist and turn and pull it through
now tie my string to something new.

Everytime I turn around there's alway something ELSE. Something other, than the other fucking thing that just pissed me off a few minutes ago. My life can never be care-free. And I guess, really whose is? But sometimes it should at least be easy. Not so stressful.

I open up
I let you in
I'll never feel this way again
love is liftedoff the ground
hold me make me
safe and sound
crushed I hit the ground so hard
why did you change
why is love hard?
you can't do this again you say so
drop me off along the way
months go by
I bear the weight
strong I am
but it's too late
how could I know
black is your heart
how could I not
have been so smart?
you come around
and want to be
everything we used to see
your sins are spread
out on the floor
but I can't love you
anymore.

And that's how I feel, like I'm falling out of love, like I'm losing it. My mind, my strength, my heart, my soul, my everything. I'm losing it.

Speak up or shut up!

2007-04-04T13:06:00.000-05:00

If there’s one thing I hate in this world, it’s being talked over.
Like when I answer the phone at work with my standard greeting, in which I offer a salutation (”Good morning!” or “Good afternoon!”), then state the name of the business, and then my name…But before I get through our business name, the caller starts talking.
Usually, when a person has no use for my greeting, they also have no use for pleasantries, or me. While I speak, they just go ahead and say the person's name they're calling for, more of a demand than a request.
And because I hate this so much, I usually just finish my greeting and then wait like I hadn’t heard them, offering them the chance to say it again, only this time, when it’s their turn.
But this experience isn’t limited to the phone. There are people out there who just really don’t care to let you finish what you’re saying, finding it imperative to speak right this second, whether you’re finished with your thought or not. Maybe I’m too full of pride, or maybe I’m just a bitch, but I feel it my duty to continue speaking until they give up, and listen like they’re supposed to. I do it for them, the least they can do is offer me the same.
Today, a woman of roughly four and a half feet in height came into my office, just moments after my boss and coworker had, curiously, left together for lunch. She yanked open the door and waddled in, and asked immediately if my boss was available.
She’d been in before, and met with my boss before, so I suppose she assumed he’d just be here waiting for her. “I’m sorry,” I said regretfully, “he’s out to lu-”
“I drove up from New York. He’s not here?”
“Did you have an appoint-”
“No,” she cut me off, her tone incredulous. Why on earth would she need an appointment? “But I did tell him I’d be here sometime today.”
“Well, he just left for lun-”
It was at this point that she began to talk over me again, explaining to me that she’d driven here from New York just to see him, what he was supposed to go over with her, what she brought with her, how long she planned to be in town…
But I only heard bits and pieces, because, as she spoke, I was busy giving her a detailed account of the fact that he had gone to lunch, where he went, and how long I suspected he might be gone. Our voices met somewhere in the middle of my office and just bounced off each other, neither of us getting our points across, but both of us just talking. I grasped for subject matter, determined to talk as long, if not longer, than she did. Because, hey, cut me off once, fine. Twice, now I’m pissed. A third time? Now I don’t have to listen to you, either.
I think this comes from growing up with my father who is infamous in my family for talking, and talking and talking. Especially when arguing, he talks so much and so consistently, you can’t get a word in edgewise. It’s annoying and troublesome, and we other three members of the family have become well-versed in pinpointing exactly how long it’ll be before he’s forced to take a breath, or a pause to collect his thoughts, and jumping in at exactly that second. But never one to have the floor stolen from him, my father will jump right back into his speech, completely without regard to his counterpart and whether or not she or he is currently speaking. As a child, it was intimidating and made me clam up. Because, Dad’s talking. And his voice is so loud and strong. Better shut up. But, as I grew, it just became irritating and anger-inducing. And because my father and I are almost exactly alike, except for the mustache, I started doing the exact same thing to him.
So, often, when my father and I are “debating,” the room fills with both of our voices trying to out-speak the other. Only, if you turned down the volume on my voice, there’s no doubt that my father would still be speaking about the subject at hand, offering arguments and proof and historical references. If you turned down his voice, however, you’d hear me talking about absolutely nothing. Nothing. Ninety-nine percent of the time, when this verbal clash takes place, I run out of things to say one sentence into the match. So I start either repeating what I’ve said over and over, with different intonations and inflections to make it seem that I have something to say, or just drawing whatever I can from the preceding conversation and repeating it, just to fill the space. Because, hey Old Man, how come you can speak over me? Why can’t I talk?
Today, as the little ol’ lady and I went to Thunderdome with our voices, I tried to tell myself to just relent. That it’s not important to make sure I’m not talked over, that if she cuts me off to just drop it and move on. Kill ‘em with kindness.
But then I was all “Nah, fuck that.” And I started talking about what my boss could be eating for lunch instead.

This "stage" is over...

2007-04-04T12:27:00.000-05:00

So quash all the gooey show of emotion from the last post. (How quickly my feelings change lately) But not to my dismay actually, I've lost my "crush" so to speak on the guy. And it's not that I don't still have little feelings of wonder, because I do, however, now they're no where near as strong as they previously were before. I think the more talking we started to do after we had our conversation. I respect the fact that we were and are able to be so up-front with one another. Right from the beginning I knew what I wanted, I told him exactly that, and he did the same. We started talking more and more. And after that, I now realize that he's not what I want.
To big of a risk for me, too wild. I am still attracted to him in a sense you know. Probably will remain that way as long as we work together. But I now know I would never, NEVER act on any of these feelings.

In other news my DH has returned to the home front, for of course only a few days. But it's all good though.
My dearest, best-est (LOL), most wonderful friend is moving away. And I'm as sad as a person can possibly be.

What to do, what to do

2007-03-28T15:15:00.000-05:00

Today was very productive in a: "you're dead fucking wrong sort of way." I told my guy that I've been eyeing for a while exactly what I've been thinking about him.
And get this, he says he felt the exact same way!
Which is weird because he never let on. But he said the same about me. And you know I feel so much better getting it all out there and leaving us to do whatever we decide. I'm glad that it's not just me, having these thoughts and then trying to battle with myself whether or not to act on them, suppress them, or what you know? I feel better that it's out in the open, at least THAT part is "out there" and done.
I, however, am not so sure if I have the balls to go through with the physical part.
(1) being my DH, how could I? And
(2) I'm a little self-conscience about my body since I've had my kids.
So what's a lady to do? All I know is that since our conversation I'm all jittery, happy, and tingly! Feels good, but weird, and happy but in a very sad sort of way.
I'm becoming the men and women I despise on television and talk-shows, soaps, real-life, etc. A cheat. Cause honestly I've already cheated in a sense, I let on, I lurd him and of course what man, with nothing to lose would turn down a ready and willing woman? Not this guy certainly!
Parts of me really really wants to go through with this, and the other part wants to just want it and that's all. Wonder, but never actually really act. Because acting turns me into a cheater, a threat to my marriage, my family, and my life as I know it.
I keep hinting at my husband that I'm too lonely sometimes to be considered a married woman, he of course doesn't take the hints, but he's so sweet about the whole thing. Wants to know what he can do to help me if anything, etc. etc. But in all honesty I don't think this irkling I have will go away until it's been satisfied in some way.
I don't know what it is about him, because in the appearance catergory he's not my type at all, I'm not attracted to him for this reason, but for reasons that lie far deeper than something as vain as beauty. I'm so enamoured with his personality, his intellect, he speech, his way of being. It all just really turns me on. And I've never had this happen before, never have I by just having a mere conversation with a person on many different levels made me want to "jump his bones" directly afterwards. But I do, I do. I think the sex would be great! I can almost feel it you know, it's weird.
I KNOW! It's weird.
But I'm scared...scared that I will actually end up doing this, end up liking it, possibly even loving it. And that just scares me more, the thought of being semi-addicted to some other man's dick, is really scary. Not to mention getting caught, or caught-up, catching feelings. So many what-ifs.
I don't know what to expect from him. And that's the weird part about it, he tells me about all his "sexcapades" and how he is towards woman and I see the way he works them over and thinks towards them: and I STILL want it? Is that not crazy? Is that not insane? I don't want to be dogged, even if I do just want a "fuck-buddy" per say. I'm so confused. I think this is far more complicated than just simply fucking here and there and moving on. It takes planning and percision, and a lack of a conscious. And I'm not sure If have all those traits. I don't want to turn my working environment, that's been pretty mellow, into something totally weird and crazy, but I do want to explore these thoughts I've been having about him.
I talked to my best-friend about it yesterday and she said something that really stuck out to me: "After sex everything is different, either in a good way or a bad way, and it's not certain that you'll both feel the same way about it"

Families without fathers...

2007-03-26T12:45:00.000-05:00

I was out to dinner this weekend with my best friend and one of her friends that I also know because I used to work with her. But along on this "date" she brought her father. Not the man that helped contribute to her birth but her father, her daddy. In every sense of the word. Their relationship just flowed so naturally and so easily and I was SO jealous. You know simple things that aren't so simple when you really look at the delicacy of the issue. At first I was amazed that her mother and father were still together, let along married. But their relationship was one filled with pure love and emotion. For me it's rare to see "complete" families, and seeing her with her father made me want mines that much more. And it wasn't anything "special" that happened on this visit, just to watch their normal interaction, was simply amazing.
I want that, that something, with my father. But he's not that type of person, not at all. This man can't even remember the names of my children, my birthday, my sister's birthday. He's not a father at all.

And to all fathers out there, if you have a daughter, you have no idea how important the things you say and do are to her. You have no idea how the way that you treat her will shape her life, her future relationships and what she expects of men. And I have a dad of course he's human, some good, some bad. But I will tell you this:
There is almost nothing that will break a girl's heart like her dad forgetting her birthday. I don't care if she is 12 or 22. If you don't call your daughter and send her a card on her birthday, it will break her fragile feminine heart. At least call. And please don't try to guess the right ago with so much uncertainty in your voice. She may never tell you. Instead, she'll cry quietly alone. She won't bring it up until her mother asks if you've called, and then, her silence and the catch in her throat will give it away. Maybe it has happened so many times that her mother is tired of calling you to tell you how you've hurt your daughter.
Even if you do call, a day late, two days late, it is just that, late. Too late. You won't be able to change how you've hurt her. You won't be able to take away the feeling of sadness that her own father didn't call on her birthday, just didn't care. It won't matter that her mother, her aunt and her sister all called and made a big deal of it. It won't matter that she got a few email cards and went out for dinner and had ice cream with a candle in it. Because what she will remember about that day is that her dad forgot and didn't call. Her dad, the one she wants to be proud of her, forgot all about her. And by the time she is 22, even though you have forgotten more than once, she still hopes you remember. She still wishes that you'd call. She still wants you to think she's pretty, to be proud of her, to adore her. To love her enough to call.
And when you don't, when you don't tell her those things, you'll have no idea how much it hurts her. No idea until you read some random girl's blog whose dad forgot her birthday. Maybe then you'll remember. Maybe it'll stick with you. Maybe you'll tell your daughter that you love her the next time that you talk to her.

If I come to a screeching halt...then what?!!

2007-03-22T07:43:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, I wake up with the tiniest seed of a bad mood inside me. I know it’s there by the way I get so frustrated when I accidentally drop my rob on the floor instead of making it onto it’s hanger before my shower. In that physical frustration that takes me over, I know. I know it’s there, that bad mood. Just waiting to blossom.
So what do I do? Do I try to dig it up and toss it in the garbage? Do I remind myself that I have absolutely no reason to be pissed off. Do I do my best to overcome this impending bad mood, and focus on the fact that today will be a good day?
No, no, no. What I do is far more unhealthy. I water that little seed. I tend to it. I talk to it. I nurture it, encouraging growth, until it sprouts forth, fully formed; an irreversible bad mood.

And I don’t know why I do it, but I do. I always have. Something about being angry, upset, pissed off…It just makes me feel good, or something. Deep, maybe. I feel like I have a reason to listen to my melancholy playlist on my iPod, and I have a reason to roll my eyes and speak in clipped, angry sentences. Misery is my favorite kind of company, and I’m happy to make it feel welcome. I offer it a drink, a blanket, a good book. Come on in, Misery. Make yourself at home! You’ll be here a while, perhaps you’d like a pillow? I hate the way I do it, the way I, once I have that seed of permission to do so: I focus only on the negative.

Like the car that blocked my clear path out of the driveway.
The empty sugar container.
The one piece of hair that won’t get the fuck off of my forehead already.
The way my fingers won’t cooperate with the keyboard and just type what I want to type.
The $700 I need spent on new brakes.

But, more than anything, I take it out on DH. I start focusing on everything he hasn’t done. But chief among his sins are my brakes. For days, he’s been promising to get me a good price on the brakes my car is in desperate need of. Since Friday, when a new mechanic scared the shit out of me by saying that my beloved almost-new brakes were dry rotted and required immediate replacing to avoid the inevitable accident that is just around the corner, I’ve been worried with every other car I pass on the road. Obviously, I cannot live this way.

So the mechanic is on the case, researching the price of the brakes I want. And, in the meantime, I’m staying off of the interstate and driving only when I have to, because not only is it scary to have your brakes give out, but it’s also embarrassing. Because I don’t want to be the girl with the bad brakes on the side of a busy road, helpless and crying. Because that’s exactly what will go down if I don't have them fixed. So, naturally, it is imperative for me to get these brakes. Now. If not sooner. So that I can drive from point A to point B without the nervous breakdown that accompanies every pothole or bump or acceleration in the road. DH said, initially, that he’d help me with the brakes, as he has a buddy who can get them for me at wholesale. I knew he wouldn’t get anywhere over the weekend, but I expected, surely, that on Monday he’d have it all squared away for me. But every day since then, I’ve heard the same thing: “I got so busy. But I got you a ballpark. You’re looking at anywhere from $600 to $750.” Wow. Thanks. That’s some ballpark. “Just hold out till tomorrow,” he continues. “I’ll have an exact price for you then.” I’ve gone through two tomorrows, and have yet to get a price. I’m still waiting, as per his instruction. And against my better judgment.

The thing about it is, I’m not the kind of gal whose ears spontaneously slam shut when some grease-covered guy starts talking about cars. I’ve driven old cars forever. And not “old” in the “classic” sense, but “old” in the “I’m too cheap to buy a new car, so I’ll drive this one till it dies, thankyouverymuch” sense. I’ve been responsible for keeping these cars in running condition, having replaced clutches, starters, transmissions, water pumps, exhaust systems, suspensions and a myriad of other fun, very costly parts on the few cars I could claim as my own. Granted, I did not crawl underneath the car and replace these things myself, but I did take them to a mechanic and have them replaced. And that counts, by proxy, right?

So it was a diversion from my norm to have DH go about getting the brakes for me, when normally this was something I’d be forced to take care of myself. “So this is what it’s like to have a husband who wants to help you, to take care of you,” I thought. Back on Friday. Before I realized it was more of an offer in theory, as he thought we were in no rush to get the brakes replaced.
So, this morning, while I dialed his number at work a third time to find out about those fucking brakes, and he said he was swamped and could I call back in two hours or so, I lost it. As he spoke, his voice hurried and clearly preoccupied, I thought, “This is why you can’t depend on anyone but yourself. Because when someone says they’re going to help you, they’ll always let you down. Unless it’s your dad or your mom, they will always let you down, put you on the back burner, assign you a low level of importance. Learn your lesson now. Because this? This is what happens when you let yourself be the little woman, even for a day.” “Forget it,” I told him in a shaky voice, dripping with anger. “Your prices are more expensive anyway, without mounting them. I’m just going to order them from the mechanic.”
“Are you sure?” he said, still paying half-attention to me. “Because it’s only a difference of, like, thirty bucks or something for a better quality brake. But, I mean, brakes are brakes, right? Do what you want to do, I’m supporting your decision.” He finished with a laugh, like this was some little joke that we were both in on. Oh, how funny, I’ll support her decision to pick her own brakes like a big girl.

“Yeah. Well, thanks,” I said curtly.
Like a flower blossoming on one of those elapsed-time nature shows, my bad mood erupted. This was the icing on the cake, the final fertilization that made my bad mood’s sapling healthy enough to become full-blown flora. This is my safety, I thought. This isn’t me asking him to check on a book that I might like to buy one day in the future, this is ME, driving down the road with brakes that may or may not give out at any given second, resulting in a loss of control and, naturally, me in some horrible accident. If the situation were reversed, I’d have gotten him prices, suggestions, AND a fucking appointment to have it done by now. Thanks for nothing. DH.
We exchanged hurried (his) and forced (mine) pleasantries before hanging up, where I slammed the handset of my work phone onto its receiver with a force that I thought would surely cause the hard plastic casing of the phone to shatter. I fought tears while I searched for the mechanic’s number to order the damn brakes already. When my cell phone rang. With DH's number.
“Hello?” I said, my voice flat, dead and clearly unhappy.
“Baby? It’s me. Listen, you didn’t order those brakes yet, did you?”
“No.” Huffy, like a kid.
“Well don’t. I’m going to look into it here as soon as I’m done, and then we’ll talk about it tonight, okay? You don’t have to order them right now, do you?”
“Uh, yes I do.” To avoid certain death, duh. “I don’t want them to give out while I’m driving.”
“You won’t,” he said. Though how he can be certain of that, I don’t know. “Trust me. Don’t order them yet, and I’ll tell you exactly what it’ll cost. We’ll figure it out together. Okay?”
I sighed and offered a childish “Fie-nuh,” and hung up.
And now I’m in a holding pattern. I’m waiting for his professional opinion, and fielding phone calls from the mechanic, who’s telling me he can get me in tomorrow if I order the brakes today.

And while my frustration with this particular facet of my life has been building for three days now, it’s only magnified by a million because it culminated today. Of all days. Instead of thinking, “He’s a busy man. He wants to help. I can wait,” I’m thinking, “Don’t offer your fucking help if you can’t fucking help me in a timely fucking fashion.”

This is not healthy.

Thank god I have my kickboxing class tonight; I could use the kicking and punching to relieve this aggression inside of me. You know, as long as my brakes don’t give out and explode on my way to the gym, that is.

List...I love lists...

2007-03-21T12:39:00.000-05:00

So I know it's been a while, and to be honest, there really hasn't been much to write about lately.
DH (what we will refer to him as from this point on) came home this past weekend and is already gone again. OF COURSE!
But onto a much needed, lighter side of things, the time that we did have together was simply amazing no matter how short-lived. And that's how it always is, when we haven't saw each other for a while the initial reunion is always great, then just give it 3 maybe even 4 days if I'm lucky.

I've been thinking a lot about getting back into school, buying a house, and going to some sort of marriage seminar/counseling event....

I really need to be in school, because it's coming near the end of the current job I work at and I just know that I don't want to have to start from scratch. But the hardest part is actually starting, once I'm there I'm fine...I guess.
I really really want a nice backyard for my kids to play in and not feel like I constantly have to check up on them all the time, if I had like a privacy fence they could go out into the locked backyard and play and I would feel at ease cause they'd still be outside (a plus for them) and safe (a plus for me) And not only that but I just can not wait to redecorate my dream kitchen. And apartment living is getting pretty crappy, with all the yearly rent increases but no actual upgrades in the apartment so to speak.
And last but not least...DH and I need this counseling! We really do, and I've been thinking, I don't want to do anything too soon, and make any snap judgement towards ending it or straying too far away from him. I want this to work. That's the conclusion I came to during my blog absence. Some self reflection, and I realize that I do love him. Sometimes I feel like I need him, but it gets sort of weird when I realize that he needs me as well.

Because it's easier when we're mad.

2007-03-14T12:14:00.000-05:00

So you've pretty much figured from the title that things are in an icky little stage with the husband and I. It's been that way since the 11th or the 12th. I forget which on exactly. But it's just a stupid "what-if" conversation turned sour, and I really didn't expect him to get mad at me from it, especially not as mad as he is now. The entire time he has this sort of light-heartedness about himself and his voice, that I thought this was all really playful and silly conversation but obviously I guess not. He even sent me some really nasty "hate mail" regarding it as well. (Email because of course, for the millionth time, he's away on work) I wonder how things will be when he returns this week, with all that he's said in email looming over his/my head?
When he first left, (this time was a very short trip compared to others) but he seemed so saddened by actually having to leave. That really touched me, because usually he acts like it's no big deal to him that his job takes him away so much.

But on to something else, I was talking today to a former school mate who I don't get to see as much as I like but I keep in touch with her by phone as much as I can, and so she started to confide in me. Come to find out we're in similar situations...at first she started telling me , how she felt like she loved her husband but wasn't "in love" with him. How they were having problems because she had found another man to confide in, instead of him. How she felt she needed time to go and be wild and then come back to the good man that she has at home. And it's soooo crazy that every word out of her mouth is one that would've come from mine.
And I had always thought that they had the cutest life and marriage together.

But that just goes to show how we're all on our own paths. Or our own roller coasters, more like it. Our perception is our reality. Even if you have a perfect marriage, mate, job, or life...if you don't feel like it, then your reality is: you do not! Everyone has to figure they're own lives out, at their own time, with their own consequences. No one can make those decisions for you, you can know it's happening, but nothing can stop you from making your own mistakes but YOU. Sometimes that's the worst part of being an adult, being accountable. For MY OWN MISTAKES. I can't place that blame on the other person, the situation, it's only on me.
Which makes me think that maybe I do have the perfect life here with my husband and kids. Maybe everyone knows and can see that but me. As I did with her. Things are rarely what they appear from the outside though. And to bring up what my grandmother used to say: "Don't get me started on what can go on behind closed doors"
I feel stuck between a rock and hard place. And either way I'm letting someone down, hurting someone's feelings, my own, or my families'.

Why I'm here...

2007-03-13T09:23:00.000-05:00

I started this blog because sometimes you need to say things, but have no one really here you. You wanna scream, but you want no attention, you wanna talk and share, but you want no advice, no judgement, no scrutiny, no shame...
Sometimes the hardest people to talk to and share your inner most feelings with are those that you know. Sometimes I wanna stand outside myself and get opinions of myself. Because I know what I want is wrong, what I do, is wrong to do, and sometimes what I crave is wrong to crave. But that doesn't stop it, doesn't stop me from wanting it, from needing in a sense.
So let me give you a little history in an attempt to better inform you...I'm married, with two kids. And not to say that it's not a "happy" marriage, because it really is for the most part. But lately I've started to feel a little cheated in a sense, my husband and I married young, partly because I pressured him, and partly because I was pregnant and we didn't want our son born out of wedlock.
We met in highschool, he approached me, but that point on until towards the end of highschool that was only part that was about ME. He was basically immature then, wanted to play around, have fun, have his cake and eat it too, I guess. For a lot of our relationship back then I was on the back burner, the rebound, or the "girl-on-the-side" He was never completely about me until I cheated on him when he was away on business at work for 3 months and we were engaged.

This guy made my 3rd sexual partner including my husband. When I met this guy, I had every intention to let him fully in to the fact that I was engaged, and happy about it, but that we could still be friends. but as time progressed, it was all so new to me, so real, and fun and adventurous. He was truly the sweetest person I had ever met in my life. And for the first time in a long time, I felt adored, admired, beautiful, wanted, loved, needed, sought after. I felt REAL. And for a long time, (even though this was only a 6 month time span) I didn't want it to end. Not until reality started to sink in, and I had to man up and face the fact that I wasn't the only person begin affected in all this. I had him, my fiancee, and myself. And in my heart of hearts, I knew I would almost always choose my fiancee over anyone. So I let him go, and I have to tell you it was the hardest that I've had to do in a long time. And not because I loved him or still wanted him, but because I knew that he loved me and still wanted me, and I didn't want to hurt him. He cried in my arms that night. And sometimes it hurts more to hurt someone else than to be hurt yourself.

At this time, I think my husband must have finally opened his eyes and started to see me for the "good catch" that I am. Because he made an complete 360. We got married, have been that way for almost 3 years now...
And all of a sudden here it is, dead smack in the middle of our lives together, with two beautiful children in tow...I wanna be with someone else.
And I couldn't even begin to tell you what I think is lacking amongst my husband and I. Maybe it's that he's always gone, in our 3 three years of marriage, he's been gone approx. half of it. Missed the birth of my second child, all the "important" moments for my first. And it's not even that our connection is bad now, that we aren't bonded the same, because when he's here we have fun, we get along for the most part, and I do love him. I just think I have that old: "the grass is greener" complex.

And I know I know, sometimes that's not always as such. I know all the sane answers to this, like: why risk what you have now, for something that you're totally unsure about...etc.
It's just hard to fight it, hard to tread this water that's becoming so increasingly deep. And I don't want to hurt my husband, I know he loves me. And I don't want to be the reason my kids grow up without a father in the home either.

There's just no way to have both? And have everyone happy? My kids, my husband, myself...?