A Mission Concept

So. I fell in love with a man when I was 18 years old. Eventually I married him, after a 12 year engagement.

There's so so so much in between those two points that Harlequin & whoever wrote "The Mermaid Chair" could probably never fathom nor insert the intensity of those years into a substandard summer read.

At the end... or the beginning, merci pour le cliche concept, my husband ended up balls deep in a Mary Kay lady slash failed pharmacist whose morals and let us say her "failure to" ummm Oh gosh what was that movie... that's right "Launch" along with her inability to select single, unmarried men, brought him to the pinnacle of his mid-life-crisis despair and took me places in my own mind, soul and whatever this sack of skin I'm in, places where my capabilities didn't necessarily come along, places I wasn't capable of handling.

Sooooo, this blog is to be about the affair. The processes, the events, the anger & the general truthful spew that I desperately hold in while offering to volunteer at the middle-school-book fair and maintaining a normal appearance to the outside world.

The truth is, as soon as my husband hit his big MLC, aka mid-life-crisis, (and long before the baleful eye of the OW's "aka other woman's" snatch rose into view) I looked around for books and articles and web sites that discussed what I needed, or rather what I thought I needed to know about "mid-life crisis" and later I absorbed everything I could about "stopping the affair" & "after the affair."

While there are great regular people from around the world posting their thoughts, and one woman has even written a successful book about how her husband's affair was the greatest thing that ever happened to her, (talk about turning crap around and making it about Y O U) at the end of the damn day what a load of shit they all were. I mean, don't get me wrong, there were a lot of people out there with ideas, concepts, plans, etc. etc. on how to get someone back who is affairing, how to cope with the affair, how to behave, how not to behave, how to move on. There are acronyms, numbers and letters and little things they type that mean things like Wronged Spouse, WS, in other words; the person who DIDN'T get screwed, but got screwed that a broken hearted, torn up person needs to learn, in order to understand exactly what freakin' club they've been cut up and thrown into. But where is the WTF???

So why the hell am I out here, why am I addressing this, why do I still need to talk about it at all, after everything... after the fact that in my mind the results of walking in front of a semi-truck on a 55 mph state route where most people drive 80 mph sounds easier than living through what he's managed to turn our life into.....?

Well, to be honest, I made it. And nobody is ever going to know who wrote this blog. What sort of person she is outside of what she presents here, half of which will be written while she has a few glasses of wine or a few shots of the Cap'n in her because that's the only time she leaves the washer and dryer behind her and feels brave... That's the only time she's capable of telling it like it is.

Nobody will be told a load of bull for a change, because even though I sat in therapy, read the stupid books, and even though I listened to what he had to say and held down the fort while some homewrecking skank held my husband at her beck and call.... at the end of my own not-so-graceful tale, I want to tell the truth. I want anyone peeking in at this little world to know what an affair really means.

I want to show it like it is from the "tell the truth or die" spectrum, from my personal viewpoint which is all I have. At the end of the day, I want the truth to MEAN SOMETHING. Because in-real-life when we reconcile with our WS, "wayward spouse" we have to pretend we're ok, or the mortgage doesn't get paid. We have to manage the kids, put that blue window washing fluid in the mini, smile at our in-laws who knew the truth and lied the whole time, while we choke down dry birthday cake. We have to pretend we have a hold on something that's as slippery as a cheating spouse's hopefully STD free ass.

But here, here in MY blog, I don't have to be kind or thoughtful if I'm feeling angry and spiteful. I get to say it like it felt. Say it like it IS. Even if all of that thought is limited by my own experience and mind... because what the hell, I LIVED it, and I'm still having nightmares.