Much like a baby witch who is still clumsy with her powers and is yet to learn how to master and harness their true potential, I feel like I have just let loose a raging inferno that I am frantically trying to get under control.
For starters, I’m amazed that I could hold it in so long. It should be a crime against humanity to repress one’s true desires that long. I guess then it shouldn’t be a surprise that it’s been a real struggle reigning it in. I’m learning to pace myself, savour moments and plan carefully, coldly, logically and scientifically.
It’s certainly a new life. Neutral. Neither good nor bad. But I’m living, and that’s the most important thing.
A rare chance for a mini-vacation has turned my life around, enabling me to spend plenty more time on my own. In this time, I have re-discovered certain things about myself.
>I’m agnostic, swinging between theism and atheism regularly. I don’t know, can spirituality exist on a spectrum?
>Decadence is for me. Luxury. High end. First class. Top quality. I can make do in the unfortunate event of lack but also know that I will live large or die trying. All my hard work is so that I can swipe my debit card without batting an eye. I want to feel my precious high heel sinking into a plush carpet while my gorgeous gown brushes against my ankle as I walk into a 10 star for catered service, leaving a trail of opulently fragrant perfume in my elegantly coiffed wake. This is the dream. Literally. This is my why. I had compromised this for so long in a bid to appear humble or down to earth for prospects, now I realize I don’t really have to.
>I’m straight straight. By this I mean that I love men. Belabouring these statements will water down what I mean.
>Motherhood is fine. Life is much easier and fuller without it though. I find that mothering flattens me into a nearly one dimensional, chronically fatigued, sleep deprived shadow of my true self. Now I realize that it gets easier as the kids grow older but still feel like it’s an insurmountably high sacrifice to give up the years of one’s life that coincide with the children’s early years.
>Apart from my insatiable appetite for the finer things in life, money and men, I also have come to make peace with the fact that I am frighteningly ambitious. I am naturally competitive and do not rest until I have swept all the accolades there are to collect, wherever they are.
>I can’t be bothered about food. Neither its preparation nor its partaking are subjects of particular interest to me. As a matter of fact, I abhor anyone who overindulges in eating. Yes, even cake. If I really have to eat, I prefer that paid hired help does the cooking. This hasn’t really changed much from when I was little even when I tried to convince myself otherwise to try and nourish my family. It really isn’t me.
>My hobbies haven’t changed either. Music. Reading. Writing. Illustration. Dancing. Puzzles. Just because I haven’t done any of them in ages…on that, I’ll have a sketchpad soon and fire up the old drawing hand again and see how it goes.
I figure the all the above sound selfish, but who isn’t and more importantly, who cares?
>My ultimate goal remains to have a tastefully furnished exclusive penthouse on a cliff where I can engage in all my hobbies. ALONE.
This is my place holder post because nearly five years later, I am finally taking the plunge and making a radical decision whose consequences are hard to forecast at this point. No, I’m not getting a divorce. It is too complicated and messy and would ruin the kids. Several years of me always being the initiator and getting rejected and being given strict conditions for sex and the hoops being held higher and higher every time I jumped through the previous ones, after expressing my dissatisfaction with our sex life and discussing the matter ad nauseam and still being accused of being the reason for the dead bedroom, after numerous half hearted attempts at stepping out that left me feeling more hollow than the marriage was making me feel, I have finally decided to throw all caution to the wind and have one afternoon of illicit sex. My partner has communicated severally how he feels the marriage is over, even said he’s thinking about separation but I wasn’t sure about the seriousness of the latter.
The last time we had sex (about a month ago) was at my insistence after we had gone almost three months without and he spoke through it about how he had so many constraining factors that it killed the mood. There’s so much I could type about how I arrived at my decision.
For some reason, I was convinced that no one would want a 33 year old mother of two, turns out plenty of men think I’m pretty hot stuff and would crawl through shattered glass to knock my boots. I’m more angry at myself for wasting almost ten years of my life with subpar sex when sex is top on my priority list than I am guilty or remorseful. I am going into this sober and level headed and intend to have no regrets, whether the sex is bad or good. Call it an exit affair if you will. I hate that it’s ending because even though I have consistently griped about my unhappiness, I love this man, he is good father and a good man, just not to me. Conversation is great, it’s the sex and communication issues that are causing the rift. Anything I say he misconstrues as an argument. Yesterday I suggested we hold on a little longer on a particular decision but he felt we should make the decision sooner. Something as simple as this led to a shouting match where he repeatedly yelled at me in front of our child: “ARE YOU INSANE??!!!”
In that moment, I knew. I have always had several moments where I’m cowering in a shell and he’s shouting at me where I have simply shut my mind off and thought to myself happily “one day I will cheat on this man and I will love it and will have no regrets” Welp. I guess the day has come I can’t stress how much it breaks my heart to have been reduced to soliciting men when I have a partner that vowed to take care of my needs. Oh well, it is what it is.
Say the cheater’s prayer for me because my life depends on not getting caught.
This is probably how people discover their repressed sexualities.
On my way to work today I got to thinking about what I would really love right now. Our baby just made a year and I’m as unattached to them as I am to their father. I would have no qualms with not having custody.
So what I would really love is a secluded cliff glass house overlooking water, where I would get to live by myself, and have the kids visit every weekend. I would have a fully stocked bar and a succession of paid athletic lovers (male and female) whenever I’m in the mood for it.
This is the place I escape to whenever the bullshit that is marriage, motherhood and wifehood threatens to bury me in its mundanity and drudgery.
It has taken a third posting on Craig’s List for me to acknowledge that I need to deal with issues before they get out of hand. I keep posting ads for casual encounters and never follow through because surprise, surprise, I feel guilty about attempting to cheat even though I haven’t had sex with my husband in months.
So I’m almost halfway through with my first pregnancy and this complicates matters a bit. I worry about the safety of the child even though I know I would take maximum precaution to ensure both our safety.
Yes, I have tried communicating, it hasn’t worked. My husband seems to be suffering a type of erectile dysfunction owing to the fact that he’s depressed about not having a job in almost a decade. Unfortunately, life has to go on.
We do have sex occasionally when I badger him relentlessly, which is how I got pregnant but his heart is not into it and the pity fuck leaves me feeling even worse than I was before we had sex. Masturbation just doesn’t do it for me anymore.
Our first anniversary came and went with no incident. So did Valentine’s day. I understand that he has no income to treat me but I also know that writing a note doesn’t cost money. He just isn’t into anything anymore and has sunk into a severe kind of depression that even I can’t help him out of. He won’t see a professional about it.
And so it is that a year and three months into our ill advised marriage, it is on its deathbed. I know that the child will not fix it, I am mainly having her for my own selfish reasons that led me into the marriage in the first place, which were that I didn’t want to enter my 30s single and childless. Now I am attached, turning 30 in three months and about to have a child but also the most miserable wife on earth who keeps refining her CL casual as until she can pluck the courage to step out of the marriage for the sexual fulfillment that is sorely missing at home.
As expected, it’s barely three weeks into the marriage and I’m already looking for an escape route.
There was no honeymoon to break the routine, because we couldn’t afford it, but knowledge of this hasn’t stopped me from resenting my husband.
I desperately needed a break, a change of scenery, being in this tiny, hot apartment is driving me crazy. So, yes, marriage is nothing to write home about. So far it looks like it’s just more housework and more responsibilities.
I barely recognise myself anymore. My dress sense, hobbies, friends and pastimes have drastically changed from what they were before I got into this relationship. I’m always planning to take time off to be by myself and never going through with it.
I saw an old picture of myself and was startled. It was like looking at a total stranger. I no longer have the accessories I had in the picture, or the smile or take pictures anymore, to begin with. I wonder how I’m going to reconnect with myself.
I feel numb and my days pass mundanely, like I’m a piece of lint floating about aimlessly. My dreams have been put on hold. My hobbies lie forgotten and neglected. My friends are no longer in touch because they got tired of trying to get together and failing. And to think that I did all this to myself.
I’m going back home next week to think and just sit with my parents and siblings and enjoy a meal without any anxiety.
Lately I’m so sad and angry, I fear I may burst into tears at the wedding or the days leading to it. Because it’s already not going the way I would want it because it’s being arranged by the groom’s family, I’m letting them do whatever they like.
I really don’t care about any of it, as long as I get through the day in one piece. I got to think about it and almost wept anticipating how cruel and inconsiderate my fiancé can be. I was picturing my gown (which is almost the only thing I have any say over) and could already imagine him disparaging me for choosing a gown that requires a train bearer if it got in the way.
I can’t remember the last time he touched me. I fear that I may cheat in a senseless silly meaningless moment. I don’t think I would regret it. I crave a man’s attention more than I crave cigarettes even though it’s only been three days without cigarettes. Go figure.
Nevertheless, the planning goes on, less than four months to go now. I’m calm on the outside but would bolt given half a chance. I just want to get through with it. I figure things can’t possibly get any worse than they already are.
As if being terrified of the marriage itself is not enough, I now have to deal with friends who suddenly aren’t as supportive as I had expected. Female drama.
I asked an old friend to be bridesmaid and she said no straight up. She probably took the growing apart that’s been happening personally. My peace offering was thrown back in my face.
In retrospect, I’m glad we don’t have to be awkward with each other all day on a day that’s supposed to be the happiest day of my life and truth be told, I was hesitant to include her from the get go because I know how competitive she is but still, I didn’t count on her being this petty.
What I have learnt from the numerous weddings I’ve attended though is that the show goes on. Whether your father boycotts or your grandma, the vows still get said and two people get married. It’s a relief. When she’s ready, she’ll tell me what that was all about. If she doesn’t, I’m not going to get into that. Life is hard enough as it is.
terrifiedbride 