married

May 10, 2022

The Soundtrack of My Life – 18 – Cry Me a River

For the record, I genuinely am not a fan of Justin Timberlake. He has an okay voice, but after seeing how he treated Britney Spears and how he left Janet Jackson out in the cold for nipplegate, I’ve realized he might not be a good person. Someone’s actions tells you far more about them than their words. He may be a perfectly lovely person, but I will proceed with caution in regards to him.

The only reason I’ve included him now is because it fits the narrative I am trying to tell. The only song of his I have genuinely enjoyed and like is a duet he did with Chris Stapleton. (P.S. check that shit out. “Say Something.” Ugh, so good.) This particular song reminds me of a specific person and time in my life. One that lasted for two months but it felt like it was forever.

Have you ever heard that old saying “to get over someone, you just need to get under someone else?” Well, in an attempt to get over Sergio I tried to slut my way to emotional freedom. Thank Albus that Grindr didn’t exist at that time. If I had had untethered access to horny dudes I would have been a way bigger slut. All I had at my disposal was AOL chat rooms and that was a hit or miss situation. I didn’t even know gay.com chat rooms existed. Which is a blessing in disguise because it kept my selection limited. Being the pulsing sack of testosterone, I ended up meeting with this much, much, MUCH older dude who had promised a “fun time” with a third. I was hesitant, because I had met with this gentleman once before and he was a weirdo. Not the scary kind. He was just sad.

This guy was infamously known on AOL as Blur69. While not caring for his aging mother, he was fishing for dick online. The first time we met up he was stinking drunk. When this older woman came out to investigate the noises, he pushed me into his bedroom, shut the door, and turned to viciously yelled at her to get back in her room. Super cringe.

While in the middle of doing “stuff” he fell asleep. I showed myself out and swore I would never meet up with him again.

Well… Evidently my resolve is easily ruined with the offer of a three-way.

Please, keep in mind that at this time I am 17. I look back now and yeah, cool, they helped a sister out, but they 1,000% should not have. I was underage! Regardless… That did not stop me.

The night of the promised group action I snuck out my window, stole my parents car, and drove across town to meet with “Boozy” and mystery dude.

The third turned out to be this twenty-something man named “Mike.” He was a chubbier than described and had a nasty attitude. When I met him I wanted to turn around and leave. Did I? No. For three reasons: one, I am someone who feels obligated to follow through with an agreed upon event; two, I was freshly thin and knew what it felt like to be rejected for my weight; and three, I was blinded by my sex drive. Plus, I drove all that way on a suspended license…

Not even two minutes in Blur69 passed the fuck out. It was down to just “Mike” and I. We did our thing and snuck out, hoping not to wake Blur’s mother. On the way to our cars we started talking and he was very nice. Not my type in the slightest, but nice enough that I was willing to exchange numbers with him. That was the last time I ever just willy-nilly handed out my digits. To this day, if I do give it to you, it is the equivalent to a commoner being knighted. Okay? So feel honored. I don’t like random people messaging me. It bugs.

Before I had set this boundary for myself, “Mike” continued to text me randomly. We ended up becoming pretty good friends. Unfortunately he liked me way more than just an acquaintance. Those feelings were not reciprocated. But did that stop me from agreeing to meet with him when he dangled the opportunity of another three way? (Are you seeing a pattern? Because I am.)

Against my better youthful judgement I let my libido answer for me and agreed to meet up with “Mike” and another stranger.

(Side note, I don’t know how I’m still alive, with all of the risky shit I was willing to do. Truly.)

Once again, after my parents were soundly asleep, I snuck out and met the two men at a hotel around the corner from my house. There I was introduced to the married man who would become my second “boyfriend,” Jason.

Jason was 10 years older than me, with a little pooch, blonde hair in a buzz cut and tons of freckles. At the time he was married to a woman and had 3 little boys around the ages of 6 months to 4 years old. How they knew each other was that “Mike” lived with this growing little family and the two worked together at a telecommunications business.

That night, Jason and I ended up being the only ones to do anything. To this day I would describe our encounter as electric. He and I had this connection I could and cannot explain. I did not want it to end and we only got to third base.

The entire time, Mike sat in the corner of the room, sulking. I expected him to join us at some point but evidently he was waiting for an invite. Without any explanation, he got so offended that he grabbed his things and left the two of us in the room alone.

“Okay,” I said to Jason.

“Eh, don’t pay him any attention. He’s just butt hurt. He’ll get over it.”

I drove away from this episode thinking I would never see him/them again. But I was wrong.

As it was, Jason had also felt the same way about our tryst. In a roundabout way he got my contact information and from the moment he first instant messaged me on AIM, we began meeting nearly every day. I was on my summer break from high school and Jason was on medical leave for his gall bladder. His wife worked an office job so that meant we had full access at his place.

At first I was uncomfortable with the entire thing. Who was I to come in and ruin this man’s marriage? My friends told me to be careful. And even when we met up one time and I saw his son’s car seat in the back seat it made me cringe but did not deter me. I didn’t seem to care. It was then that I adopted my personal philosophy when it came to married men: I don’t care, I’m not the one cheating.

I genuinely don’t know how his wife never caught on. We texted constantly. He would find any excuse to come and pick me up at my parents house. We would drive somewhere and do our thing, and each time was awesome. I will not lie to you dear reader. I think the sin of infidelity made it all the more delicious. (Eesh I’m not a good person.)

One night he picked me up in this old, white Ford F-150, with Justin’s song playing on the radio. He said, “What do you think of my boyfriend?” Referring to Timberlake.

“Meh,” I said.

“Bitch!” He replied.

Again… I am truly dumbfounded that she did not know.

Jason broke it off with me the day before the start of my senior year, at the end of August. I was annoyed and pissed that I did the most immature, manipulative, thing I have ever done; I lied about killing myself. I know as a sane adult that you don’t do shit like that. Then… I knew I just didn’t care. I was burnt out that I was dumped AGAIN that I wanted someone else to feel uncomfortable.

It wasn’t long before I was absolutely over Jason. Yeah, it was fun while it lasted, but what was the end game? He wouldn’t have left his wife for me. I was still in high school. The best option was for us to go our separate ways. Whatever it had been had run it’s course. He had to deal with his shit, and I needed to grow up.

Years later we reconnected and I apologized for being so immature. He found the courage to come out to his wife. She took it really well and they’re still very good friends. They talk to the other about their boy problems. And it’s weird seeing photos of their sons… They’re literally the age now that I was when I met their father. While I haven’t, because I lack the courage to do it, I have wanted to ask how he would feel if one of his sons met up with someone ten years older than them for sexual encounters. It’s interesting to see the difference of opinion when one is on the outside.

March 22, 2021

The Struggle to Breathe

We are nowhere near the time that my husband has left me. That moment sits as a tiny spec on the horizon of my timeline, but, as with time, we march ever toward it. And knowing that it’s there, rots me from the inside.

My grief of the situation comes and goes. I have gotten to a place where I can handle it when it does exist in my headspace. Those are the days I ugly cry in my car, hoping no one in the vehicle next to me happens to look over. I am very unattractive when I cry. I literally struggle to breathe, as if every breath becomes thinner and thinner and I am just gasping at air. The only other time I have experienced such tears was the time my husband and I had a brief separation.

Before we became polyamorous we basically just cheated on each other. Our relationship had turned into lies and secrets and neither one of us had the guts to be honest. The truth came out when I downloaded Grindr to cheat. I caught his profile at the end of our street, on his way to visit his dad in Palm Springs. Over the course of his brief trip I watched his account like a hawk. I was obsessed. When he returned I was honest. We struggled with things after that, and at one point I asked him to leave. He went and stayed in a hotel for a few days, and that morning I cried much like I do now. I could barely get out of bed. If I attempted to get dressed for work, I would start to cry again and my legs would buckle out beneath me. It was one of the worst mornings of my life.

At the time I didn’t understand these tears. I have cried before but never like this. And I always questions their sincerity. Even now I wonder if they’re real, or if it’s just because I am expected to feel something. I think I’m the only person who doubts such things.

After his return to our house our relationship changed. We started to communicate and eventually the truth about his infidelity came out. Instead of being angry with him I was overcome with relief. Finally, I wasn’t the worst one in the relationship. The one who cheated on an honest, dutiful, good man. At least that was the narrative I told myself, because I had repeatedly asked him if he had. He would always tell me that he hadn’t and I would feel ever worse. When I finally got the truth it felt like I could finally breathe. A gigantic weight had been lifted from our relationship and my shoulders. Since then our bond has never been stronger. All it took was the truth, and the inability (both of us have) to give up.

It seems to track that once we finally move into a better place in our marriage he would be taken from me. Even now my eyes fill with tears. I just want to scream. I want to take a sledgehammer and destroy everything in my path until I am too weak and too tired to carry on. There are days that I literally just want to die. Losing my father, my mother dwindling due to Alzheimer’s, and my husband to ALS is just too much sometimes.

Just know, I am too much of a coward and (bizarrely at the same time) too conceited to take my own life. That being said, just know that if I were hit by a car I wouldn’t try and hold on.

March 22, 2018

A Seer Reads the Stones

It’s going to be hard, but doable, not to read into the actions and words during this time. When I’m left with no answers and my mind is searching for some sense of stability or ‘realness’ I begin to look for the answers around me. Like when Charlie sleeps on the complete opposite side of the bed, where he used to hog all of it, is that a subliminal message that he’s trying to get away? Or when the last two days he’s been chatty and we’ve spent the evening holding each other and talking, and then it doesn’t happen is it different? Did something change?

The answers I divine to why are all stupid and probably not true. The further proof of this fact is that these are all my interpretations of perceived realities. For all I know the bed just feels bigger because of how I feel right now. I feel small and insignificant. Thus the spaces in between are vast and seemingly unending.

Then, like last night, charlie was tired and spoke very little and quickly turned around and fell asleep. Not at all like the past two nights. I could see that as he’s getting closer to this other dude or it was just that he’s a 40 year old man who is currently juggling a husband and a boyfriend. I could very well see how that in itself is exhausting and when you’re tired, you’re tired. (Not saying 40 is old.)

The thing about reading our own meaning into anything is that the pendulum can swing either way. It doesn’t matter what the facts are, they can be read in such a way that it is misinterpreted as negative. Case a point, Charlie was reading into my actions as wanting him to end the relationship because I couldn’t do it myself. In reality I was angry at him because I knew about the Derek thing and instead of talking to him or asking him about it I chose to keep it to myself which further drove a rift into our relationship. I was angry. As it also turned out, I was genuinely furious with and blamed him for our dog Klause getting out of the yard back in November. It was these things that made me angry with him and I was very cold to him as a response. It had nothing to do with me wanting to end the relationship, but that’s how he saw it.

Instead of talking to him and voicing these fears I kept them bottled up inside. They festered and made me feel something else entirely. If I had just done the “adult” thing and had a discussion about all of it, none of this may have transpired. My reality may have looked totally different. Yet, even that, right there, is me reading into it.

I want to think that “looking for answers” is a natural human response. It is our way of attempting to take the control back in a situation in which we feel we have none. We don’t like uncertainty and living in a “zen-like” state of letting life wash over us is against our usual factory defaults.

March 20, 2018

It’s a Brave New World…

…At least that’s what I keep saying to myself, and have been since December when I asked for an open relationship.

My husband doesn’t recall our conversation, in January, when we agreed to close it. I can specifically remember the location and how I felt in the moment in which I snapped and agreed. I then changed all of my stuff on all the apps and went back to that mindset. As it turns out, he was under the assumption we were still open which is when he started talking to this other dude.

We have talked a lot since our initial conversation on Saturday. What I have since learned, was that the reason he spoke to his mother about the state of our relationship and telling her about Derek (his boyfriend) was because he thought it was over between us. He had planned on ending things with me that night because he thought I was waiting for him to pull the trigger. However, when we talked on the car ride home from my parents, after St. Patrick’s Day dinner, his mind changed. What I told him was I wasn’t done. And I’m not. Like I mentioned in my previous post, regarding my midlife crisis, I was on the fence of what to do. I wanted to be single but I also wanted to stay in my relationship because at my core that is what I want. But, I also want to be single. Evenly distributed. (I’m kind of fucked up.)

After our conversation last night I have found further peace with this arrangement, which is basically a polyamorous relationship. I have my boyfriend (I hesitate to use that word for the baggage it brings) and he will have his. At least, for the time being. (It should be noted all four of us have deleted grindr and scruff, further upping the ante.)

A friend of mine, back when we were wrestling with it just being an “open relationship,” told me that we both have to be in agreement, and if one of us isn’t in it, the situation has to end. He is/was right. Which is why I have informed the husband that at the moment he is uncomfortable (and the husband said “I agree”) I will not hesitate to pull the chord on this arrangement. Now, whether he still feels that way in a few weeks, months or years (however long this fucking lasts) may be something else entirely. I just can’t be too concerned with thinking that far ahead. (I can hear the voice of my besty, Shelby, and her subsequent eye-roll, informing me how I’m being stupid.)

I have made peace with the notion that if he ends up ‘head over heels’ with this dude and would rather be with him I will be okay. I mean, of course I will. It will hurt like a mother-fucker, but I will remind myself I set this situation into motion. As he likes to remind me, I chose this. I asked for it when I wanted the open relationship and I chose it (yet again) when we talked the day after the car ride home. He set forth 3 options and I chose the ‘keep things the way they are and stay together but see these side pieces’ plan for only 5.99 a month.

I have no illusions to the contrary that this is absolutely playing with fire. Emotions WILL run high. And someone will be hurt in the end. The gamble is, who is going to be hurt. In the effort of full disclosure I have let my guy, Josh, know everything. I have not hid the fact of what is transpiring. I even want to send him the contact info of my previous ex for further reference to the agony that comes with dating me. I am trouble, plain and simple.

One of the changes I am making, to keep myself sane in this insanity, is to not read into the actions he takes and any assumed underlying message in what my husband says to me. My previous post was me reading into what he said way more than I should have. My therapist said that if we do this there has to be trust and I am just going to trust that he will be honest with me. What he says is what he says. If it turns out that there wasn’t any honesty in his words I imagine I will find out by our relationship ending.

I just find it odd that my husband, who has such anxiety about the future and how things will play out, is okay with this. For once he’s living in the moment and that is some major change. We’re both changing evidently.

The one thought I came to today was that we had previously known of similar situations with other couples in the past and we poo-pooed them and judged. I think we were just belittling them in an effort to tamp down our own desire for something similar. I probably shouldn’t be thinking that because it’s reading into things I shouldn’t. (It’s going to be a hard habit to break.) I just can’t help but look at it the same way I did when I was denying my sexuality. I vehemently hated gay people because I thought if I hated it enough outwardly it would kill that part of myself inside. Well, we see how that worked out.

I probably shouldn’t be airing my dirty laundry, but I have only one story to tell honestly and speak on with certainty and that is my own.

Stay tuned for further episodes of “Gays of Our Lives.”