where to next?

Two more secret trysts, and we finally mustered the much needed valor to talk about letting go. A week ago, when we went out, he instantly dozed off in my arms. It didn’t bother me, as it would usually do to a woman. I wanted that chance to ponder until when will I be able to stand loving him in fragments? I wanted to hold that moment forever in my heart, him breathing the after-sex lethargy into my chest. I was getting used to his scent, his touches, the glances that gets my blood going. I was getting used, and getting scared at the same time. Too scared to be happy with him.

And yeah…the other day. It was supposed to be our last escapade. He said he couldn’t keep giving me the kind of love that destroys me. “I don’t know if you could ever forgive me for destroying you like this.” I started crying. I knew we were reaching that part of the journey where we need to stop and decide which way to go next. In my case, he was asking me to go back. I broke down again, saying I’ve gone a long, long way already I would be scared to go back.

I didn’t sleep a wink that night. I cried no end, feeling so perennially scared.

The following day he dropped by my workplace and we talked inside his car. He said we’re not letting go, we’re just changing route. He showered me with assurance that he’s not going away ever again, that I got him, that I have him, that we’re in this together.

That’s a lot of comfort for now. I do not know what kind of tears will I cry again tomorrow, or tonight. I do not know where all this is leading me. I do not even know how I should trust his words. Too scared to ever do that again. “Would you believe me if I tell you how much I love you?” I said no. “But will you give me chance to prove it?”

I hope he proves it. I so direly want him to prove it. Even if I should let go, I only need to know we’re here for a reason.

DISCONSOLATE

I am fuming mad. It’s been a week since we last hung out, and even then I was just pretty cool about that. Started to get used to the idea that soon enough we’re going to slow down, halt, and eventually stop. But he was the one persistently flirting and suggesting a next rendezvous. Of course that got me geared up once again. Since this morning we were already sort of finalizing our meeting after office. I went out much earlier, strolled in the mall, sat down and read the book I was going to give to him as a Christmas present, strolled around again, sat down and waited. Only to get a text from him saying he need to meet wifey that needed a ride home.

I knew I was literally turning red because I felt my blood burning and rushing up my face. I felt so dejected. I felt miserable because I couldn’t do anything about the situation, anyway. It’s not as if I didn’t know he’s married. I sent him a couple of messages ranting and all I got as a reply was: “Please bear with me…” His callousness is really getting into my nerves. He only pays attention to me whenever he’s horny. But really, do I mean anything to him. He cannot even give time just to check out this blog I started about him. He’s written a couple or so items on his own site, and they’re all about the lust that he feels for me.

I guess I only needed to keep getting hurt this way, so I can muster enough strength to finally let him go. I can keep hanging out with him, even if there’d be no sex anymore, I swear. I can love him like that. I know I can. But if he’s only there for me just for the sex, I don’t think I can stay forever giving such “favors”. He’s already making me feel like a real slut.

Now that I know he's with his family, I feel like sending him a text, or call him relentlessly. I feel like doing something really stupid and bad, like blowing his covers. I feel like living up to my present slutty status.

And right now I just feel so so so sorry for myself.

What have I become so far, out of loving him?

distract me?

I was talking to one of my two therapists over the weekend. After intently listening to me for an hour, crying, ranting, and gulping in some tonic, he told me “You know what, I think you don’t need a husband in the first place. You need an intellectual partner…and a sexual partner.”

I was struck by that. That made me think more and frustrate myself more, anyway. But I am willing to look into that possibility. I am hoping to get some answers in the next few days.

I went to hole up somewhere for the full two days. I regretted not having my laptop with me, but nevertheless it was a great help not being able to write anything while in that wilderness. It allowed me time to breathe in the breeze. The smell of the sugarcane field hushed my battered resolve. I cannot really say that it helped to gain back my tenacity, but at the least, it made me rest in the knowledge that I still have it in me to live the next 10 minutes of my life. I had the temptation of texting him, but the signal was intermittent. It didn’t piss me off, like it would usually do. I thought that should spare me from disappointment. He likes to snub me especially on weekends when he’s busy with wifey and daughter.

I went back to the hassle and bustle and showed up at a party I initially turned down. There's something in the gaudy world that muffles my faint cries. They all wowed at my little black dress, silver shoes, and red toenails. If not for the disturbing eye bags, they said Alessandra de Rossi could move over. I drank in all their lurid attention like a witch downing a concoction of a magic spell. I think I should try and go out more often.

I need some distraction.

SKIRMISH

what are we?

Is he an asshole for sleeping with his friend and colleague's wife? Am I such a slut for sleeping with my husband's friend and colleague?

The more that I dissect this the more that I'm getting deeper into the murky waters.

TORMENT

A few minutes ago I got a call from my mother. Uncle who molested me is back in town. For good. I do not know what to feel. Just the other day I had nightmares of myself strangling him till he’s blue. I cry thinking about his sinister smiles, the way he would look at me. Mother said he’s old, frail, sickly, so they took him in to take care of him.

My end of the line was dead with my silence. Nothing left for me to say.

Let Go

How do I let go? Do I really need to let go? Why should I let go?


I have wings to fly. But they're fragile, flimsy, delicate. Would I be able to fly high and far enough?

qualms

Two days ago we were out again to our secret den. I learned his wife is pregnant. Condition is kinda delicate, so it means no sex for him, "till she gives birth," he says. It somehow stung my heart, thinking about the obvious implications to me being there, always ready for a good lay. I kept asking him, "What am I to you right now?" He wouldn't look at me, he wouldn't give any sensible answer. "I don't know, a concubine, maybe..."

The last time we hung out, he told me he wanted me to be his concubine forever, and that it will take a "very, very long time" for him to get over his attraction to me. "As long as you look like that, as long as you talk like that..."

But this time, he seemed to insinuate a halt to our frequent meetings. I asked him to elaborate and he said, "you want me to say it without crying?" He said he's learned to love me enough to want to see me happy with my life and not screwing it up.

At first it pained me, thinking I've already served my purpose, anyway. I've already quenched his desires, fulfilled his fantasy. He's got me already. There's nothing left to discover. There's nothing left to say. After all, I only appeared to him as highly-sexed, exciting, smart wife to his friend... "but what will it profit me to have you? Don't you think you're too much risk?" he told me while I was crying, the first time we did the gory deed. "but you are worth all that risk."

I do not know how to believe him. Ours is not a normal relationship. No commitments. No obligations. "Everything between us must be voluntary," he would say. So what we have is like a bubble floating in the air. We do not have any solid foundations. That's why we are both insecure. We are both scared and shy to ask for what we want. I am pretty sure he, too, got his own qualms, even fears. I wish he would tell me. I wish I would know of his fears. I wish he would ask me to say more. I wish he would listen.

I wish he would ask me to stay.

Then again, would I stay? Will I know how?

Which path to take

Wrote this three years ago... it just got worse, since then...clearly I've been dealing with such loneliness and isolation for years. And the road ahead is so so so long I just constantly feel weary and scared. I have to make my decision final, later if not sooner.

I am reading The Road Less Travelled by Sott Peck. It's quite an amazing book, telling me things I already know but I always forget. I am now along the 'Love' chapter and I am learning a lot. I am starting to understand my own everyday angst.

When I fell in love with my husband, I thought he would be someone I would be sharing everything with -- all my thoughts, feelings, dreams, fantasies. Everything. When we got married, I even got my hopes higher and higher, especially when he would spoil me and shower me with his attention. But two years to the marriage and a 7-month-old kid, all my hopes sometimes dwindle, seem elusive. We have grown farther apart. I don't know how that happened. All I know right now, is that, we both have left each other out in the cold. Reaching out seems to be more and more difficult job, everyday. There are some needs that are not met. Emotional and sexual for the most part. I know that, I can feel that, I am aware of that. But I don't know what to do.

I want to stay in love with him. I don't want us to drift apart and let things wither without doing anything. I want to keep loving him. But these days, I find it hard to do that. I am so full of resentments, so full of words unsaid in my heart and they are building up. I always find myself wishing for someone else. And I hate that. I don't want any of that. I want to stay faithful to him. All I do right now is try and remember that day when I said my vow to him before God, that Day of February 14, 2004. Somehow it is helping. Somehow.

hello void

My brain is an ocean of thoughts. Oftentimes I keep them to myself as I don't trust others to understand what I think about, or feel for that matter. Keeping it to myself means writing them down in a journal, enjoying the catharsis of it, reading them again later, and learning from my own foibles.

Is someone reading me? Is someone out there feeling the same array of emotions I've been struggling with? I wish to know. This total silence is too frightful for me right now. At least for now. I'm throwing this collection into the internet bin. I wish some hankering emotional ragamuffin would rummage through this and find me. All the crazy thoughts and emotions that I am. I want to know there's someone out there also lost in the forest of pains. Just want to know I'm not alone.

I'm pretty sure there is still somewhere inside me that's unharmed, not pained at all. I want to take the route back and dwell in there. There's a time in my life, when I lived without him in my life. I want to go back to that time, just so I won't be too dependent on him all the time.

I hate having to feed on other people's happy emotions. I have to strive to be happy again, all by myself. Without the aid of some false comforts. That's just plain pathetic.

I guess I will have to start from scratch, yet again. I'm gonna make it this time.

WHAT'S YOUR MILLION YEARS?

"I'm not just some kind of a whore to you, am I?"

"You're not...Not in a million years..."

...But I feel like I am, whenever we go out, go straight to the action in some dark, discreet rendezvous, and he would have to drop me off quickly after that. Nothing worse than a wham-bam-thank-you-mam after-sex upshot, for a woman who's so into his man.

The other week we spent a couple of hours by that shore, just talking and kissing a bit. But mostly talking. It was way more gratifying for me, than perhaps a hundred quickies in bed. But I do understand him, our situation. As much as I would want to sulk and demand, I know I will have to understand and consider these little inconveniences.

Until when? I do not know. I can either stop now, while I still can, or just allow myself to get lost in the present moment, learn from it later. I am inclined to consider the latter. I can't seem to get enough of him...at least not yet. I think about him all the time, well, most of the time. And I automatically heat up every time. It's like there's a push button in my brain that connects his name to my vasopressin and oxytocin supply...funny, but that's how raw and primal it always goes.

I want him right now. I don't want to think of the days to come. They will come, I know. But I am just weary of it...Will I have strength to say no later? Should I be the first to say no? Or is he just waiting for me to say no? Will he get tired of me? Will he go get another new girl soon enough?

Not in a million years...does that mean forever? How?