Control

I don’t look forward to weekends much and it’s not even cause those are the days I don’t see or hear from Ray.

During the week I leave my house and head off to work, I get to dress up, do my job (which I’m very good at), socialize, have lunch with friends. I am in control and I get to be myself. It’s a completely different story at home. My husband (John) is under the impression that I am his 4th child. He wants a say in everything I do. I don’t remember him always being like this, I remember a time when we used to actually get along. It seems that those days are over.  

I work in a very professional setting where professional attire is a must. Skirts can’t be too short, pants can’t be too tight, cleavage is frowned upon, etc, but even so the office guidelines aren’t the only ones I have to abide by. My husband is never pleased with my wardrobe choices, they rarely pass his inspection, he has appointed himself God’s fashion police. I am only half joking when I say that maybe I should start wearing a burqa. He does not find this humorous. Big surprise.

On my way to work I turn on the radio and have a dance party for one. This is a big No-No as far as John is concerned. I am not allowed to listen to “secular” music at home or in the car if he is with me. All the indecent song lyrics are displeasing to John. And to God.  During lunch with my work friends, I go ahead and order a glass of wine, that’s something else John frowns upon. I am not a big drinker at all, but nothing tastes as good as something you’re not allowed to have. My work friends try to convince me to join them for Zumba classes during lunch time, John flatly refuses for reasons that only make sense to him and I am not allowed to Zumba. I guess the joke is on him, had I been taking Zumba classes with friends, I would not have had all that free time to do my naked workouts with Ray.

John thinks the pictures I post on my Instagram are stupid. He criticizes my need to post pictures for attention. He finds something wrong with pretty much every single picture. I don’t care what he says cause Ray likes them all.

Life at home is rough. I cannot be myself. I have to watch what I say to John during our  casual (and infrequent) conversations, if I am not careful I will get a lecture for using a “bad” word or for saying things that aren’t pleasing to God, to John, I never remember which of the 2 is more disappointed in me. When we go out with friends or family, my outfit has to pass inspection, and if I decide to order a drink John will spend all night monitoring how fast I am sipping on my (ONE) drink, waiting for me to do or say something out of character so he can say I am drunk. If he feels that I am acting “drunk” another lecture will await me at home. I am not the wife and mother he envisioned, but I am the one he picked.

I miss the days during which I was in control of myself and of my life. I am not quite sure about whether John has taken control of my life from me or if at some point I willingly handed it over, whatever the case I want it back.

 

 

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Hotels.

I have been with my husband for half of my life. I was 17 when we started dating and 20 when we married. (He’s 10 years older than me.) I was young and perhaps a bit immature but I knew that I was in love. When I said my vows, I meant them. This was the man I wanted to grow old with and spend all the days of my life with. I couldn’t imagine myself with anyone else, there was nobody better for me. And then out of nowhere, someone else came along.

I didn’t go out looking for someone to have an affair with. This is very unlike me. I am not adventurous, I am not deceitful, I am not a liar, I am a normal wife and Mom who got in way over her head and barely recognizes herself at times. This friendship began innocently enough, on my part at least, and while I did enjoy the compliments and the flirting, there was nothing inappropriate going on at first. I didn’t think of Ray “like that” but Ray says that from the moment he saw me he knew he had to be with me.

Ray & I agreed to meet up for lunch on a Friday. We decided to meet up at a restaurant that was 10 minutest away from the office. I parked and walked over to Ray’s car, waiting for him to get out but instead he told me to get in. I figured that just like other countless times before, we’d forgo the food and have one of our car make-out sessions, but Ray had other plans.

Ray drove us a couple of streets over, never telling me exactly where we were going. When he arrived and parked at a well known hotel in our city I didn’t know whether to be nervous or excited. I think I was both. Ray grabbed my hand and led me to the elevator, we went up to the 12th floor and into Room 1278, I shook the whole way there. I don’t think I realized at that moment that there would be no turning back from this moment. I could no longer call what we had innocent, those days were over. I was minutes away from allowing myself to enter into a full blown affair. Life as I’d known it was over, the images of this day would replay in my head for the rest of my life, whether I wanted them to or not. I could’ve walked out, I could’ve said no, I should’ve said “I don’t want to do this” but I knew that was not true and he knew that was not true so I stayed and had the glass of wine Ray offered me.

Once inside the room, Ray began to kiss me and proceeded to remove all my clothes. He removed his tie and blindfolded me with it. I was just about to start freaking the hell out when I felt him pouring wine on my neck and chest. I was going to make a joke and tell Ray he had been reading too much 50 Shades of Grey, but when I felt his warm body on mine and his hands starting to explore I forgot what I was going to say. I forgot everything.

We made the most of our time together. Ray made sure I would not soon forget our first time together. We were relaxing in each other’s arms, ready to go for round 3 when his phone started to ring. First we pretended not to hear it, then we just ignored it, we didn’t want our time to be over. Ray finally reached over to answer the phone, from my side of the bed I could hear his girlfriend yelling at him cause he was late picking her up from work. I suppose we should have hurried then, but we took our time getting dressed. I was sad to leave, and for a second I thought this would be our first and last time but it’s impossible to fool yourself, I knew there would be many more hotel room lunches in our future.

 

 

 

 

 

Honesty

I must be honest and say that I’m pretty shocked at the kind of attention I’ve been getting for this blog. I suppose I shouldn’t be all that surprised given the hot topic. It wasn’t that long ago that I was the one judging the people having affairs. The difference was that my judgment was done from afar, I would’ve never actually confronted anyone and given them a piece of my mind, no matter how close we were. I am certain my real life friends would somewhat judge me since it’s wasn’t that long ago that we sat together in judgment of cheaters (male and female), so I turned to strangers for advice and I am getting way more than I bargained for. Good or bad, I appreciate it. I did ask for it after all.

I don’t expect people (especially ones that don’t know anything about me) to be understanding, give me the benefit of the doubt, or at the very least wait for me to go deeper into my story before they call me a whore. However, I do have a problem with people coming on to my blog and commenting on my posts, calling me a whore and wishing me ill. That’s the part that’s shocking me. How can you be such an asshole to someone you don’t even know? (You better believe though, that I will be an asshole back.) I think I am polite and receptive of critical criticism but if you’re going to be offensive, you’re going to get offensive right back, but THAT IS NOT THE POINT OF THIS BLOG.

I am the first to admit that I have a screwed up sense of humor. I suppose you can say that it’s my defense mechanism. It’s a quality that a lot of people appreciate in real life, but I guess it does not come  across the same “on paper”. I keep having to explain myself over and over and I’m done with that. This is MY blog, about MY feelings and MY experiences. Being honest does not equal bragging. Sharing experiences does not mean I don’t feel remorse. Having a sense of humor (even a screwed up one) does not mean I don’t take my actions seriously. Discussing what I’ve done and what I’ve felt at CERTAIN moments does not mean I don’t constantly battle myself over what I have done and why.

This isn’t happening because I’m whiny and selfish and I’m not getting attention from my husband. It isn’t because I miss feeling butterflies or because I don’t know what REAL love is. This is happening because I feel as if my husband has beat the crap out of me, not physically, but emotionally and verbally. I am not blaming my actions entirely on him, but his behavior towards me for the last couple of years has made it way easier for me to tune out feelings of remorse or guilt. When someone constantly belittles and finds fault with you, tears you down at every opportunity sometimes in front of family or friends it fucks with your mind. I am a smart, well-educated, successful woman and there are moments that after 15 minutes in the same room with my husband I forget all about my good qualities. I don’t care how strong you are mentally, if someone you love is constantly treating you like shit, you’re going to snap eventually and I finally snapped.

So spare me the condescending comments because you don’t know what my day to day life is like. I have complained to my husband nicely, I have complained angrily. I have argued, I have tried being sweet, I have begged, I have pleaded, I have threatened and his change doesn’t last for more than 2 weeks. I haven’t left him because as shitty as he is in the husband department, he is an excellent father. He has refused to go to counseling. I have suggested divorce on various occasions, soon after he becomes the ideal husband but that is always short-lived. Sometimes you just snap.

Judgment

I made the enormous mistake of going to a popular website where people share all sorts of crazy drama and shared the link to this blog. I admit that I didn’t think it out properly and I might have possibly jumped the gun. Maybe I shouldn’t have shared it till the whole blog was complete or till I was at least half way through. I was told that I was “pimping” my blog, some people thought I was making it up, that I didn’t sound distraught enough so it was either made up or I had no heart, they said that I didn’t seem very sorry to be cheating on my husband, that I just wanted blog viewers and finally, (my personal favorite) that I was writing erotica. (I’m still laughing at that one. I’m not sure if that was a compliment or criticism.) Anyway, I digress……..

Ahhh, how easy it is to sit from behind your computer (or phone) screen, looking down your nose and pointing fingers at complete strangers.

Let me start with the obvious—I am not actually proud of the things I’ve done or of the decisions I have made. I am not looking for approval or understanding. I completely understand that most people would completely disapprove of my current situation and the choices I’ve made that have put me in this crazy situation, I can even accept the negative opinions and disapproving remarks made in a respectful way, but the disrespectful commenters can fuck off. It’s really quite simple, don’t read the blog.

I’m writing this blog first and foremost cause I want to. It’s for me to write down all my feelings, good and bad. It’s not like I can discuss this matter with people in real life. So what if I wouldn’t mind having the blog read by a few people? Isn’t that the purpose of blogging in the first place? Isn’t that the purpose of most social networking type places? Everyone has a voice that wants to be heard, if you don’t want to hear mine, that’s fine. No hard feelings. Goodbye & have a nice day.

My favorite comments are the ones that tell me that you could NEVER do this. Let me tell you that 2 years back I was pretty sure I could never do this and chances are I was pretty judgmental towards those that did these kinds of things. Well, here I am doing things I couldn’t have even imagined a couple of years ago. I am not making excuses for myself, I’m just stating the facts. Shit happens. Never say never.

 

 

 

Lover

I’ve heard that having an affair could help improve your marriage. I always thought that was pretty ridiculous and stupid, but I’ve come to accept that maybe it’s true. 

After various “lunches” in Ray’s car where the only thing we were tasting was each other, he told me that as much as he was enjoying our frenzied and passionate lunches, it was time to kick it up a notch. (Not to mention the great risk that comes with going overboard in a car. In public. Near your place of employment.) I told him I had to think about it and needed some time. I hadn’t fully forgotten that I had a husband and various children at home whose lives could be greatly affected if I wasn’t careful. But who says no to someone whose kisses leave you in a daze? I am not a prude but this man handled my body in ways I had never experienced. He constantly left bruises on my inner thighs and I loved it. They were my souvenirs. While I never had any major complaints about my husband when it came to sex, Ray was way more adventurous and demanding. He made me feel aroused and alive. He left me shocked when he slipped his fingers inside me and then shoved them into my mouth so I could taste myself, his favorite flavor. This behavior was out of character for me, but I became a fan very quickly. And on the days we couldn’t see each other, the memories of what we done with each other, to each other played over and over in my head. My husband didn’t seem to notice that suddenly I wanted to have sex more often nor that if I seemed more into it than usual it was because I was thinking of Ray.

Between the constant telephone conversations, romantic emails, song dedications, texts and lunch time sexual activity, Ray has forgotten to tell me that he has a live-in girlfriend. I should be upset but I’m not. I figure it will make things less complicated. I tell myself that this will just be a temporary respite from my marriage, a little fling to recharge my batteries and give me the “pick me up” I desperately need before the constant arguing with my husband drives me to insanity. What do you get when you add 2 crazy people, a husband, a girlfriend and an endless amount of stupidity? No Strings Attached Sex. Where do I sign up?

Rejuvenated.

Remember when you were a teenager and the tiniest bit of communication between you and your crush would send your blood rushing and your heart pounding? If you’re anything like me, there was nothing you looked forward to more in your day than just the slightest contact. It didn’t matter if it was a conversation about whatever mundane subject or even just the simple act of exchanging looks, those tiny things were enough to make (or break) your day. I thought those days were long gone for me, but no, I found myself re-visiting those feelings again and they were as wonderful as I remembered them to be. Except for the having a husband and 3 kids part. Nothing will burst your daydreaming bubble faster than remembering there’s laundry waiting for you at home and homework that requires Mom’s help.  

I couldn’t escape my reality but I could take breaks from it and that’s exactly what I did. I couldn’t wait to get to work in the mornings. While Ray and I didn’t work in close proximity, just knowing that at any moment there could possibly be a call (full of flirting and compliments), (sometimes naughty) email or text from him was enough to keep me happy and on my toes. We decided it would be best to communicate only during working hours. I didn’t want to think about Ray while I was with my husband and kids, but as much as I tried to keep him off my mind while at home, it was near impossible. Thoughts of him consumed me at ALL times. I would replay our conversations in my head. He started referencing specific songs and lyrics that reminded him of me so of course those were the songs that would play as soon as I got in my car (with my family), I found myself constantly distracted and wanting needing more of Ray.

I thought I was doing a good job acting normal, but soon people began to take notice that there was something different about me. There was no denying that I was in a better mood, everybody noticed the change. Well, everyone except my husband. We were never seen together at work really, I would even go through the trouble of taking Ray’s calls in the bathroom to ensure that nobody would overhear anything and realize what we were up to. I looked forward to our occasional lunch dates (more like make out sessions in a car filled with sexual tension) but our opposing schedules made it hard to see each other as frequently as we would’ve liked, maybe that was for the best. Between Ray constantly listing all the things he wanted to do to my body and my constantly thinking of everything I wanted Ray to do to my body, it was only a matter of time. I can’t deny that we were both enjoying acting like teenagers, the stolen moments, the passionate kissing in the car, but the reality was that we were well aware that we were a long way from being teenagers, instead we were crazy adults that had entered dangerous territory and were loving every minute of it.

Work

I’d always liked going to work, not only did it provide an escape from my crazy every day life but I happen to like my job. I work in a large building located in the middle of a large city where I’m constantly surrounded with an endless stream of people. The pace is crazy, busy and loud.  I would have to deal with a certain guy from time to time, mostly over the phone. Our relationship was strictly professional. One day out of the blue, something in our relationship changed. Our work related conversations became friendlier, nothing personal at first, just general conversation. I thought nothing of it when my new work friend began asking me questions about my personal life. It’s what friends do, you get to know each other. My first thought was that I should introduce him to one of my single friends. I tried bringing that up but he was never interested and the conversations always came back to me, us. One day he called me and invited me to lunch, I accepted his invitation cause it was just a regular lunch date with a co-worker, no big deal. Friends have lunch. I should have known better.

We had agreed to meet in the parking lot and head over to a nearby restaurant. Lunches with friends don’t normally make you nervous. They don’t make your heart pound, they don’t have you changing your outfit 7 times, that should have been my first warning. I was a ball of nerves by the time I headed to meet up with him. We sat in his car making small talk and before I knew it, he leaned over and kissed me. I wasn’t thinking clearly or I would’ve stopped him. I have a husband, I have kids, this is not what married Moms do on their lunch breaks. I don’t recall the exact thoughts that ran through my head at that moment but I felt guilty. I felt guilty and liberated, but mostly liberated. We never made it to the restaurant and instead we stayed in the car talking and kissing. By the time it was time to get back to work, I was a new woman.

I wondered if I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life. Should I put a stop to this before it gets started? Or should I just go with the flow and see where it leads me. I think it’s quite clear what I decided that October afternoon.