you can tell a lot about a person by how they fuck

i'm going to begin by warning you right now that this post is going to be dirty and vulgar.  if your delicate sensibilities cannot handle it, i welcome you to move along to some other waste of your time...

if you have been following my story from the beginning, you know that i have not kept it a secret that the abhorrent sex life i shared with my ex husband, the good Dr. Kxxxxxx, was one of the primary reasons for our demise as a couple, married or otherwise.  when i was in the thick of my miserable marriage, trying desperately to reconnect with my sexually frustrating husband, i had a good friend advise me that if things were not good in the bedroom, they were never going to be good outside it either.  i remember balking at that idea, that a marriage would sink or swim merely because of the quality of a couple's sex life; but now, looking back, i see the wisdom in such a tenet.  if there is no intimacy, no bond or connection beyond playing house and paying bills, there isn't really a marriage, is there?  its roommates.

sex between my ex husband and i prior to our marriage was decent, somewhat plentiful, and vaguely satisfying.  after more than a few years together, a little boredom was to be expected.  i was always the more adventurous half, and so i was always seeking ways to keep things fresh, like lingerie and toys and role playing.  my ex husband had different ways of tackling the issue, i suppose, by seeking the attentions of various other women behind my back.  however, that was prior to him developing his speedy 'little problem' in the bedroom.  i always wondered how he handled that with the other women he bedded down while with me, because surely, he didn't suddenly gain control and endurance simply with a new pussy.

after we married, the sex we did have, those few and far between occasions, became increasingly strained and strange.  my ex husband began to develop certain obsessions and fetishes that became  increasingly more difficult for him to hide or suppress.  for instance, he had always loved and enjoyed my breasts, but in the last few years we were intimate, his fixation on them turned somewhat uncomfortable for me.  he seemed to enjoy suckling, like a child...and he would even call me 'mommy'.  it was strange to hear, but in the midst of our passion, it was accepted.  it was weird and unsettling, but i understood it on some level -- his mother is a very cold woman, very impassive.  i have never seen her display anything but uncomfortable intimacies when she must.  she is restrained, with a smile always forced across her face.  Freud would have chalked my ex husband's sudden 'mommy' fetish up to his mother's lack of affection during his childhood.  i learned to rationalize away a lot of aspects of my husband and his behavior this way.

it's why i was not the least bit surprised that my ex husband went out and got himself a 'best girl friend', in the form of a large, motherly nurse who worked with us at Children's Hospital.  she was one of those nurses that kissed his ass right away, and she tried desperately for a while to befriend me (she even made some sexual advances toward me on more than one occasion while we were out socially).  when my husband wasn't getting the emotional mothering he required from me, he went straight to her.  no surprise, she had huge breasts.  she tended to his every boo boo, physical and emotional.  if he got a sniffle, she swooped in with IV fluids and would confer with his mother by the hour.  they spent a great deal of time together, no doubt recounting all his dissatisfactions with me and plotting his escape.  you could always tell when he had been talking to her, because he would grow bold and more insolent.  she was his main confidante (makes me wonder how she's coping with his new wife).  they would travel together, and then he would try to tell me that 'there was nothing sexual' between them.  right...and i'm sure her husband believed that too.

sometime during residency, my husband came to me asking for anal play -- not for me, but for him.  he admitted that he enjoyed doing it to himself, and because he knew i was sexually open minded, that i would be open to joining him in the experience.  my ex husband was right, i am open minded, and i accepted these desires of his and even happily indulged him;  it was the neurotic, shameful, and self loathing parts of him that these things elicited that i despised.  he expected me to accept these parts of him, but he could not accept them about himself...so he would come to me begging for me to fuck him in the ass, but he would be riddled with shame about it.

after a while, sex was only acceptable upon my husband's terms -- when he wanted it, where, what position.  it always began with some overt and cheesy pick up line, accompanied by an aggressive groping of my breasts.  he became sexually bold, but in a sort of condescending manner.  when that stopped working on me, he resorted to demeaning me or making me feel shitty about myself in regards to our sex life, as if this would somehow convince me to fuck him.  sex became another power play between us, another factor to be manipulated and controlled.

there was a time, very early in our relationship, before all of his philandering, before all of his neurotic, narcisstic abuse, when fucking my ex husband was an enjoyable experience.  he may not have been the kind of guy i was into, but he was cute and he was equipped, and back then, he enthusiastically engaged in our escapades with this sort of 'sweet' vigor and passion.  of course, according to him, i was his first, so it explains his genuine eagerness.  the longer i shared a life with my husband, the more i got to know him, the less i wanted to fuck him.  he began to feel like my brother and an authority figure, not a lover.

i stopped fucking my ex husband for a couple of reasons...

1. he continued to show more affection and consideration towards other women, even right in front of me, and i just decided it was time to take my dignity back.
2. he admitted to fucking a girl in my architecture program, a girl i asked him specifically NOT to go near or get involved with because it would make going to school every day extremely difficult for me.  he fucked her in my house, on my couch, in our bed, all weekend long when i was out of town.
3. he persisted in refusing to address his premature ejaculation problem that left me frustrated, demeaned, and unsatisfied.  he would orgasm in two minutes or less, and then descend into a self deprecating, tearful rant about how he wasn't satisfying me.  this, instead of just relaxing and tending to my needs too...
4. he became increasingly mean and nasty toward me, and his passive aggressive behaviors made me literally cringe and avoid him on a daily basis.  there was no way i was going to lay on my back for him and spread so he could get off and then go back to treating me like shit.

as our relationship inside and outside the bedroom continued to degrade, he seemed farther and farther away from me, and any hopes i had for rekindling and strengthening my marriage began to fade. 

doctors are just like you...

i'm always puzzled when i come across folks who still put doctors up on some golden pedestal.  i find it to be a funny psychological remnant of our Victorian past, this idea that physicians are somehow 'better' or 'more godly' because of the knowledge and skill they have collected.

so i'm going to let you all in on a little secret:  doctors (and sometimes especially doctors) are NO different than the rest of y'all.  there is absolutely no reason to elevate the egos of doctors everywhere, and in fact, the more humble you keep us, the better.

for the most part, we are a highly refined group of basket cases (please note that this is an obvious generalization, and does not apply to each and every physician.  there are many, many good people doing good doctoring out there, and i sincerely hope that each and every one of you is lucky enough to find one.), pushed to our intellectual, emotional, psychological, and occasionally, physical limits.  my years in medical school were like the co-ed high school experience i missed out on -- it was catty, judgemental, clique-y, full of large egos and weird personalities, and was often very regressive.  it was difficult for me to look around at my peers from day to day and think that in a mere couple of years, they would hold the fate of lives in their seemingly immature hands.

of course, it was a pressure cooker environment, meant to really weed out those who could adequately complete the training and take on the job from those who just could not cut it.  presumably, everyone there is considered smart enough, otherwise they would never have made it past the admissions process.  its the other, more taxing, parts of the job that they need to make certain we can handle...the stress, the grueling hours, the anxiety, the ability to perform ethically at all times, the inevitable failure felt when a life is lost, the neglect of one's own health and well being, the abandonment of one's own personal desires and agenda.  i could go on, but i believe you get my point.  i used to believe that anyone, as long as they had the mental acuity and the determination, could go to medical school and become a doctor like i did.  i still believe that, but only partly...

i guess it depends on your definition of 'doctor'.  if you're of the mind that doctors have a great and grave job to do, and they should approach their work like a vocation, then you and i are in agreement.  but, if you're of the opinion that they have a great, grave vocation and should be treated like rock stars who's egos are pampered and who's wallets are fat, then i'm sorry, you lose me there.  there was a day, not too long ago, when a doctor hung his shingle out over his door, set his own prices, and administered his 'care' with full independent authority.  those days, much to the disappointment of a lot of the older physicians who i found to be my teachers, are long over.  managed care and insurance systems have obliterated that mode of practice, but it seems they haven't erased that old mindset, from the populace or the doctors being cranked out of medical schools from year to year.

my ex husband is a pediatrician, not even a specialist, and he believes he walks on water daily.  he has been known to literally stomp his feet in tantrum over the fact that other 'lesser' professions can produce a higher salary or more recognition than his.  he has been overheard proclaiming that he 'saves lives every day' on more than one occasion. he does not believe, however, that the rules apply to him.  for instance, he is a routine violator of HIPAA regulations that have been created to protect patient confidentiality.  there have been countless times over the years, dating way back to medical school, wherein i have had to remind my husband that he should not be talking openly (or at all) about that patient or his/her case here at this family party or here at this restaurant.  he enjoys bragging about who's children he sees, especially if they are in the sports community.  on another most recent occasion, he openly recounted details of a very high risk case involving the child of a common friend in front of people who knew her -- details that she would not have wanted people to know -- all because he was the treating physician.  Doc Kxxxxxx's ego is his first priority, most certainly NOT your child's care or your privacy.  

this kind of arrogant narcissism is absolutely toxic when it is inherent in a physician.  it will harm, and it will kill.  there is no doubt that physicians should categorically be held to a higher standard, in all aspects of their life as well as their practice.  they begin to drill this fact into our heads from the first day of med school -- don't even accept something as simple as an ibuprofen on the ward from a nurse, because that can be perceived as a future dependency issue;  don't go out for dinner on your night off, have a few drinks, and then drive home; don't screw around with your superiors, for it will demonstrate poor ethics.  yes, if we want to enjoy the high esteem of the populace we treat, we must uphold ourselves to a more honorable life.  

and i wholeheartedly agree with what i was taught.  the rules must apply.  you all see what happens when doctor's behave badly and get away with it (Dr. Corasanti, anyone?)...i can promise you that my ex husband will be amongst that group of bastards.  and then all those nurses who shower him with adoration, all those peers who think he's just a super stand-up guy, all those unknowing patients' families, will finally see who he is under his contrived facade.  this is a man who routinely goes out with friends for drinks, and then gets behind the wheel of his car and drives.  where is the higher standard in that?  this is a hypocrite with a kidney transplant, who routinely binge drinks himself into a stumble and then a stupor.  this is a man with extremely questionable morals who is a repeat adulterer, and he sees and treats YOUR children, Western New York.

listen, smarts doesn't make a doctor.  if there is an M.D. after their name, yes, you can be assured they have the knowledge and the training to treat you or your loved one, but it most definitely does not guarantee you a good doctor, and that is unfortunate.  it really is a personal choice for each of us, the kind of physician we want to partner with for our own care, and to those amongst you who find it is just as important the kind of person your doctor is outside the clinic when he/she is not wearing their white coat, i say good for you.  take control of your own care, and be sure you know who your doctor is and what they espouse.  and, if you should ever suspect that your HIPAA rights have been violated by your physician, the nursing staff, or support staff, i encourage you to seek recourse with the Department of Health and Human Services.  you can find a link to their HIPAA violation page, along with information on how to file a complaint, below...

http://www.hhs.gov/ocr/privacy/hipaa/complaints/hippahowtofile.pdf

the list...

1.  Morrissey
2.  Hugh Jackman
3.  Liev Schrieber
4.  Clive Owen
5.  Elvis Costello
6.  Richard Tompson
7.  Bob Mould
8.  Joe Strummer
9.  any member of The Hold Steady
10.  various Boston Red Sox

this is my ex husband's, the Good Doctor Kxxxxxx's that is, self proclaimed and self affirmed list of "men he would go gay for in an instant' -- his words, NOT mine.

he never openly admitted he was homosexual, or even bisexual, though there were plenty of indicators that i chose to ignore while others around us did not (like a penchant for inserting things into a below the belt orifice...yup, you read that correctly).  i routinely had acquaintances or friends inquire as to whether he might 'go that way', but i always poo poo'ed the idea, if only because his ego could never handle the shock of that kind of life.  and, he would never, ever be able to face his father, who's opinion and estimation were worth more than gold. he lived his life each day trying to impress his father, who only seemed moved by Jxxxxx's more successful friends.  i used to feel so sorry for him, because i knew what it was like to be desperate to make a mark with one's own parents.

but this list?  this is something he would talk about openly, whenever it came up and in front of all kinds of friends.  he thought it was a lark...he celebrated it.  now, don't get me wrong here, there is nothing wrong with the motivation behind such a list, i would have accepted this part of him openly and warmly, i assure you -- this is not just me hurling nastiness out there out of hurt and anger.  and it was the duplicity of his nature that bothered me day after day.  he assumed roles and endorsed sentiments only if they made him look good for others, or if they helped make him feel superior.  

if my ex husband thought for a second that kissing another man, or more, would garner him more adoration, he would have dropped to his knees in a heartbeat...of that, i am certain.

today...

i do not miss you.

i do not miss your boorish face and that stupid, tired and crusty old goatee that has been hanging off it for literally decades now...

or your wannabe dark framed glasses that you think make you look like Elvis Costello.  they don't, they just make you look like an old man trying way too hard to appear young and hip.  the same goes for all your ridiculous hats you like to wear...you've been a poser from the day i met you, and you'll be one til the day you go into the ground.

i do not miss that giant bald head of yours.  it left greasy marks on everything it touched...the pillow cases, the back of the couch cushions, your hats...disgusting.

i do not miss that smug smile you like to flash, full of arrogance and self importance.  you're fooling no one.  everyone sees how you crack at the first sign of pressure and stress, and your meltdowns are never pretty...oh, and get yourself to a dentist!  the plaque is literally dripping off of your yellow teeth.  kissing you was never a pleasure...

i do not miss watching you preen and prance around in the mirror, taking more time to compose yourself than a self obsessed teenage girl before a date.  the obsessing over which tie to wear, when you end up wearing the same three week after week.  the way you couldn't pass a mirror without stepping back to admire yourself in the reflection was nauseating, because you care so much about how others estimate your appearance, yet...

you don't care that you burp and fart unapologetically in front of anyone, and take a shit with the bathroom door wide open (by the way, i'm sure the new wife must love this).  you're disgusting, and the smells and sounds that emanate from your carefully composed body are like a metaphor for who you are...a sack of shit trying to hide itself in J.Crew and Brooks Brothers.

i do not miss your prima donna antics, especially when it came to your salary compared to someone else's.  the way you carry on because 'you save lives everyday' (really doc?  wiping noses and cleaning up puke and shit is saving lives, huh?), and should therefore be celebrated with fanfare and obscene amounts of money is absolutely ludicrous, and you need to get over yourself.  besides, if that is what you expected out of your career in medicine, you chose the wrong the field, buddy...and the wrong town.  yes, my brother the car salesman, can and does make twice as much as you in a year easily, and if you don't like that fact, well, as they say, 'tough titties, my friend'.  stop your fucking whining, go do the job YOU chose, and be thankful that you still have it.  because, sooner or later, that big mouth of yours is going to break HIPAA laws YET AGAIN, and this time, someone is going to report you.

i do not miss spending time with you.  you became boring so quickly, i don't know when it happened, but it made you as dull as a rock.  it wasn't just that we had so little in common anymore, you really had no passion or interest in much of anything.  except buying records...like another aging hipster wannabe.  living vicariously through the talented expressions of others rather than your own.  you became sad and pathetic...flat.  i encouraged you so often to find things to make you happy, don't just be your job, but you ignored me.  it wasn't that we grew in different directions, it was that you chose to stop growing or evolving at all... 

i do not miss the way you would take the stress of your day out on me.  it was a never ending roller coaster that rode the waves of your emotional lability from day to day.  one moment you were giving me the cold shoulder and refusing to open up to me, and the next you would be lashing out at whomever was closest...me, your mother, your friends.  your passive aggressiveness knew no bounds.  i would give you a grocery list, and you would purposely bring home the wrong things time after time.  you would hold money over my head, like i was a child begging for an allowance.  there was a time when i wanted to be your solace, but you were as inconsolable as a child always.  i wanted a child, but i was damned if it was going to be a spoiled, grown ass man...

i do not miss your neurotic, histrionic personality, or your need to be coddled at every turn.  i am not your mother, and no matter how badly you wanted me to be, i wasn't going to treat you as if i were.  i was not going to greet you at the door each day you came home from work wearing an apron and handing you a beer.  i was not going to feed your flaws, the way everyone else around you did.  you can't conduct yourself and behave like a child, and then expect me to respect you like a man.  its just not how it works.  your constant worrying about everything, your inability to cope with the slightest obstacle or challenge, your inadequacy to make decisions for yourself, were all what led me to lose all respect for you...as my husband, as someone trying to be a man, as a doctor, as my friend.  

i do not miss your judgements or your criticisms of me or anything that i held important.  any effort i made, any challenge i took on for myself, any dream i wanted to pursue, was always accompanied by your very vocal doubts and denigration.  when i began my business from scratch, you told me not to bother going out and trying to sell anything, no one would buy.  you always had a 'yeah, but...' to give to me whenever i tried to take control of my own life.  both of us never perceived you to be a Dominant in our relationship, but you most definitely wielded your psychological and emotional power over me.  you aimed to make me feel so worthless and tiny, less than you, lucky to have you.  what was it, Jxxxxx?  were you just so damn afraid that i would be better than you at anything?  so good that i would eclipse who you are, and leave you?  was it your way of keeping me under your thumb?  because it worked...for years.

i do not miss feeling like i would be the one to have to protect us if we were in any kind of peril.  i do not miss being the only one who could properly swing a hammer.  i do not miss your widemouthed snoring that echoed through the house, driving me into another bed just to get some rest.  i do not miss the way you showed more affection to every other woman except for me.  i do not miss how you gave gifts only to receive recognition, or how you only helped others when it meant something good for you.  i do not miss having to beg you to pick up your messes or spend time with our dog.  there is so much, Jxxxxx, so much...

but most of all, i do not miss watching you put yourself up on that pedestal, Doc.  you, and everyone else around you who doesn't know any better yet.  i know there will be a day that one by one, they will.  they will see what a superficial fraud you are; what a self centered, narcissistic child you really are...and they're going to wonder, just like i did, how they went so long suffering your bullshit.

socially accepted prostitution...

i gave You my heart, very purely and truly from the moment i committed to You way back in 1995. i never cheated on You, i loved You, adored You, lusted after You, made sure You knew it all the time...Your first blow was choosing to bring a girl home that summer night when i had to work, march her right past Your parents and up to Your room, so that You could 'listen to music'. You and i 'listened to music' all the time up in Your room, didn't we? 

i know that i should have walked then, but i didn't. and how was my love and adoration returned to me? You joined volleyball, and then began fucking around with a skank on Your team, so much so that i had to come out to see it for myself, and after four long island iced teas, You watched me drive myself home to lancaster from angola. what a gooood and caring boyfriend You were, Jxxxxx Kxxxxxx...

Jxxxxx, even if You didn't ever touch a single one of the handfuls of girls that You have associated with outside of our marriage, it was the ILLUSION OF IMPROPRIETY on Your part that crushed me. You failed. You failed to make me see or feel Your love. Your only demonstrations of love from the very beginning were monetary and material. do You recall that first christmas? You went way overboard, and You set the tone for the rest of our lives together. it taught me that well, if i couldn't have a real act of Your love, at least You would buy me something...You created a brat in me, the way Your parents and family made a brat out of You.

see? what i have never, ever heard from You is a truly genuine apology, one that reflects that You took me and my heart and You crushed them both from the very beginning, unprovoked. no one around You knows that...how You are an attention whore so badly that You will break commitments and vows and crush people who love You deeply, just so that You can get the fix You need from someone in the moment You need it. it happened again and again, and each time, You had a choice: You could have said no, i have made a commitment to someone; or, if You did not want to be with me, and You were unhappy and just wanted out, You again had a choice to buck up like a MAN and just tell me so that we could part and go be happy. instead, You let it drag out for fifteen years. 

do you know why i really asked for the open marriage? it was not just because Your limp dick became useless after only two minutes in the bedroom...it was because i wanted to know that You would fight for me, that i was worth THAT much to You. You don't believe this, i know, but if You had simply looked at me from across that dining room table that evening when we discussed it, and said, 'i love you, you're my wife, and there is no way i'm going to let you go be someone else's...i will do my part to make you happy.' it really would have been that simple -- all of our lives together -- all i needed to see was that i was cherished and loved above all else in Your life, like i was supposed to be. i would have never moved away when i did. and as for my final infidelities to You, they were absolutely retaliatory for Your treatment of me. i'm no whore...but i am human, and i deserved to be loved and touched and satisfied just like You. You reduced our marriage to prostitution -- every single time we tried to make love, You came in less than two minutes. DOZENS of times. it was as though You were pissed and resentful that You were 'footing the bill', and You felt like i owed You something. whether it was Your sentiment or not, it is exactly how it was perceived. i didn't emasculate You...You did it to Yourself. You have to be a man with a spine and a set of balls before someone can take it from You...You never grew up and got out of that sick bed, Kxxxxxx, and i was tired of waiting for You to come join me so we could enjoy our life as Man and Wife.

i guess i am starting to realize that You -- pathetic and childlike and spineless as You are -- were my first Dominant.  my self imposed inertia in our relationship was my tacit allowance of Your horrendous treatment of me for so many years, especially in the beginning, and long before i went seeking something like that out for myself...

Ah, there's no place like the City of Good Neighbors...

      

     so i have begun to hear from some of my friendly neighbors, and as expected, the sentiments are mostly critical and antagonistic:  i'm apparently a 'fatty hater' with 'no game'.  *nods*

     let me re-iterate something:  i'm not here doing this to get your support, readers.  i don't need any approval or commiseration, and i am not looking for your pity.  i'm here for two reasons:  

     1. to tell my side of the story, whether there is an audience for it or not (though i suspect that there is...which one of you have not had your heart broken by someone you trusted?  someone who perpetrated himself one way to everyone in your life, but behind closed doors was an utter cocksucker to deal with on a daily basis?)  we all have our stories, this is mine.  for once, i'm going to stand up and defend myself, because i'm tired of wearing the Big Bad Bitch badge for a boy who didn't even have the balls to walk away from me when he knew he wanted to, or at the very least should have.  every single person in our life quietly saw me (and still does, i'm sure), and me alone, as the reason that 'poor Jxxxxx' was so miserable all of the time.  i'm here to say that is total bullshit.  i have no doubt i caused that boy some grief, but i'm also certain he fully deserved it, especially when he spent so much of his energy making his own life miserable...and he also deserves to suffer the same humiliation i did all those years at the hands of him and his parents.  so while i may not be able to publicly 'out' his identity here, you've already shown me that you're as savvy at internet research as you are at pithy, flaming comments to complete strangers sharing their story with the world.

     2. to shine a light on why I allowed this.  if you do not care to read what is written here, i welcome you to move along.  perhaps there is a more fitting diversion for you elsewhere on the net (i happen to enjoy iheartchaos.com).  however, i will take a moment to pose the question again:  which one of you has not had your heart broken, for any reason?  yes, i'm nasty here, and of course i'm bitter, and i'm sure as hell angry...but i'm also real, and what i'm thinking, what i'm feeling, and the ways i search to make sense of losing everything in my only known world, is also very real.  and all these things that i'm feeling right now, all these things that are unfortunate parts of who i am right now, are not who i have been or who i will be.  i'm outing myself here just as much as i am him.  this is my way of holding myself accountable too, because when i read what i share here, when i choose to put it out there for you to survey and judge, i'm ashamed of myself.  i kid myself into thinking that i'm striving to become a good buddhist, but even buddhists suffer heartbreak and devastation from time to time too, and no amount of meditation or sweating on the yoga mat holding crazy asanas is going to change the anger or pain or vulnerability they feel.  i know this, because i've been trying ardently for a year now...

        we are all human.  i am, and so is the good doctor, and so are you.  when you choose to entrust your heart to another, and you begin to build your life and who you are around that fact, only to realize that his idea of marriage and your idea of marriage couldn't be more diametrically opposed, it sucks.  there is no other way to put it, really.  so it may be just another 'depressing' story to you, but to someone else, what i share here may reverberate with someone who has experienced the same hurt, maybe someone still trying to make sense of it.  if you are one of those readers, then i say, welcome, and i hope that you can find some solace in my mess of a story.
  

        if making myself vulnerable and opening up to the world proudly, for what is really the first time in my life helps just one person get through their day, i'm good.  i'll suffer the ill informed, often illiterate and myopic commentary of the peanut gallery...it ain't no thang.  but to those of you who may also be suffering this kind of hurt, you're not alone.  you can find your voice too...

post script.  so, City of Good Neighbors, i pose the question to you:  given the limited details supplied to you thus far (yet apparently sufficient enough for some of you to hastily pass judgement), how am i supposed to feel and handle this life changing experience?

post post script.  the new wife is not younger, and no where near being "trim".  and the Doc?  he's pretty crusty now himself... extremely balding, graying, sallow, and puffy.  definitely showing more than his share of years.  he wound up with her because she was the next most accessible thing, for that is his modus operandi:  he doesn't put himself out there for hot, young pieces of ass...he goes for convenience and a sure thing. and trust me, this chick is thanking her lucky stars she got a ring from someone, anyone.

I never cheated on you...

I want You to know that from the beginning, up until that fateful weekend I went away, I NEVER cheated on You, with anyone.  No matter how I was tempted to do so out of retaliation because of how You repeatedly crushed me by lavishing Your affection on other women, I never acted upon it.  What changed my mind was Your obstinate selfishness when it came to our intimacy.  You had every power to take control of Your "issue", I tried to help You and be supportive with You many, many times.   

     But it was years…it was full months and years that went past us, wherein You would just take what You wanted, and then leave me to take care of myself as You sat there all pouty faced about it.  After dozens of times, how was I supposed to react?  How could I be expected to continue to coddle Your childish behaviors, when what I needed in bed was a man, MY man.

     Jxxxxx, it became systemic for me – after so long, after so many instances of infidelity on Your part (physical or emotional), after You neglected and refused me sexually on our honeymoon (as I sat in 100 dollars’ worth of lingerie purchased especially for the occasion), and after Your repeated childish antics in the bedroom, I felt as though I had nothing inside of myself that was worth loving, because my own husband and best friend didn’t seem to find anything worth loving in me.  I was never the priority with You when it came to intimacy – You may disagree, but Your actions spoke loudly.  For years, we could have afforded a new, more comfortable bed for us, a bed that was not Your childhood sick bed, so that I could sleep next to my husband, and it was never important enough for You, though You whined about it…

     By the end of our marriage, I had such little respect for You, because You persisted in behaving like a child, rather than meeting me as an adult ready to tackle our life.  I stopped investing in You, and I know You stopped investing in me.  You were a coward, and You still are.  You are afraid to take what You want and need, because You are afraid of disappointing Your parents.  Your present, new marriage included.  I assure You, no matter how much everyone says they are happy for You, for having finally found ‘the right one’, they also secretly are looking at You and feeling sorry for You.  You’re afraid of losing everyone’s adoration and praise.  It was always the thing You moaned about most loudly, especially when someone else was the center of attention.  I saw it flash in Your eyes the night my architecture professor told You that I had talent and could go far on my own merit.  I heard the reluctance in Your voice on the way home that night as it came up again…like You doubted it, or at least You didn’t want to admit it or agree with him.  What kind of partner is that?  How did that make You a supportive husband?  You know, it takes more than just paying the bills, right?  You took every single opportunity You had to cut me down, and when my own business that I began from scratch did not make millions from month one, it was not successful enough for You.  Your expectations were ridiculous, and in those moments, You have never resembled Your pathetic father more.  Because I used to watch how he treated Your mother…for years, I felt very sorry for her.  Even way back, when we were dating, I saw the warning signs in You, and yet I ignored them.  And yet again, I am left to question why?  Why??  You were no better than me, there was nothing special about You…You weren’t even my type.  But somehow, I drank the Kool-Aid everyone else around You had been sipping, and I believed that You were someone I wanted to be near.

        For fifteen years, You convinced me that I was a horrible person.  My self-esteem was so low, I could not hold my head up and look people in the eye.  My therapist noted it immediately – that my affect was like that of a battered woman who was afraid to speak to anyone.  It shocked me to hear her tell me this, but then I slowly began to realize she was correct.  You never hit me, but You struck me hundreds of times with Your thoughtless actions and Your lack of support.  I believed I had no worth, that I was a stupid, miserable, cynical, cold hearted bitch who would never find happiness or peace.  Your family’s treatment of me reinforced this – I know they were always civil to me on the surface, but I knew otherwise.  And why did I know otherwise?  Because my beloved husband would tell me how his family felt about me:  the dumb pollack bitch that was ruining their son’s life.  You know what I say to that?  What a fucking CROCK.

     I got my distance from You, and You know what I found?  I am a blissfully good and warm hearted girl, and I’m smart and funny as fuck…I make others smile and giggle, and I go out of my way to help people around me, even strangers.  I have found that I can and achieve whatever I set out to do, no matter what it is.  I work hard, I have talent, and I have many, many skills.  I think it’s the one quality in me that You were always quietly jealous of – I can do ANYTHING I set out to do, and do it with at least some success.  I take risks, and I put myself into foreign situations that can be scary, that I might fail at, and I face them head on.  You do no such thing.  You never have, and the minute You are asked to or have to, You crumble…because Your ego cannot stand the possibility that You might not succeed, and someone else might.  It’s another narcissist trait of Yours, and that one single handedly killed us, I want You to know that.

     By the way, have you pitched a nice tantrum yet for the new wife?  I can't wait for her to enjoy all those dirty, nasty little idiosyncrasies of Yours...

a bucket full of sorry...

I wish I could say I was sorry to You, and in a way that You would understand that it comes with nothing but love and gratitude from deep within my heart.  My deepest regret is that I will not get to look You in the eye again and communicate to You what my heart needs to tell Yours.  After so many years, so long and so hard, but also full of so many beautiful moments we shared.  I am still not able to reconcile the fact that we went from two people who shared so much vulnerability and closeness to total strangers in a matter of a day.  That is what hurts me most, even now after all that has transpired and all the time that has passed.  I always missed You, even though You always seemed to be right there.  Somewhere along the line, we stopped connecting.  There were so many reasons for this, I know…but did we not owe some grace towards one another as it all ended?  After all that we had endured together, bittersweet good and plenty of bad…You were the one I gave my heart to in a way I had to no one else in my life, and I committed to You with every hope and desire that You and I would grow old together enjoying life and exploring the world.

I look back at all that time we shared, and I feel as though I was the only one who fought for us, who wanted us to be strong and bonded and harmonious.  I tried my damnedest to make myself healthy and better for myself and for You.  I wanted and expected the same kind of commitment from You, but it never seemed to be on Your agenda.  I wanted You to understand me, and I You, and I wanted so badly for us to succeed, despite our flaws and limitations as individuals and as a couple.  But I was alone, and I felt it most of the time.  You made me feel different and less than You, and that made me resent You, and finally despise You.  I was Your wife, Your woman…I wanted You to own that, and respect it, and protect me.  I wanted to know and feel that You had my back, and sadly, I never really felt as though You did.  I will forever be grateful to You for how You took care of me and us by bearing the brunt of our financial life after I decided to leave medicine.  You gave me shelter when I truly needed it, allowing me the time and space I needed to heal myself and get my head right.  I will never forget that, or how gentle and caring You were for me during that time.  

But I also cannot forget all the times You hurt me, in what seemed like very inconsiderate and deliberate ways.  I never felt secure in Your love for me, and that was not something borne out of poor self-esteem on my part – it should have been Your responsibility to make sure I knew and felt how You loved me, so that I could feel secure in it and in us.  Countless times, You made me doubt that and question Your fidelity to me, from as early as our first year of dating.  You watched my weight soar and my sense of self-worth plummet, as a direct result of Your behavior and lack of integrity, and You did nothing to make it right.  If You never wanted me, why did You persist in your relationship with me?  I distinctly remember sitting at home literally sick waiting for Your return from the transplant games in Columbus, so You could decide whether You wanted to continue to be with me.  Why?  Why did I allow You that power over me?  Why did I not love myself more in those moments, and declare right then that You did not deserve me?  What exactly made You worth more than me?  I gave You the option yet again when You screwed around with Your gross anatomy partner and with old college girls and You chose to persist.  Was it because maybe somewhere down deep inside, You enjoyed that power You wielded over me?  The moment I couldn’t lavish You with attention, or someone more preferable came along to give it to You, You happily drank it up…I began to see in You such a narcissist, and how Your entire life was designed to support that aspect of You.   

I understand now why I allowed myself to fall for You, why I stayed with You, and why I manipulated the demise of our marriage.  I accept that I have serious issues with abandonment, with attachment, and with trust.  I know exactly what events in my childhood added up to make me this me.  I continue to work hard on bettering myself in therapy, so that I do not repeat my mistakes.   I have to live with my decisions for the rest of my days, and while I try not to live with regret, I do find myself regretting that I could not be more honest with myself and with You and everyone else so much earlier.  But would it have made a difference?  The people around me who love me tell me that there were two people in this marriage, and that two people made it end, but I cannot help but feel guilty for ever hurting You…because what I keep remembering over and over again lately is how sweet we were before we lost it all.  And then, I remind myself that even though there was sweet, at the very same time, there was obvious condescension on Your part to me, and passive aggressiveness, and competition.  I remember how You would belittle and make jokes at my expense as if it were nothing in front of my family and my friends…how You would pick fights, or go out of Your way to demonstrate that You were right about this or that…how You would not stand up for me when Your father disgraced me and hurt me deeply…how watching the baseball game came before making love to Your new wife on our honeymoon…

If given the choice, I would not choose to be back with You, Jxxxxx Kxxxxxx.  But, if given another choice, I would choose to do it over again with You.  I know how utterly insane and repellant You might find that notion, but I know that we both know now what we did wrong.  We’re older, and we are most definitely wiser.  We were young and we were very naïve when we began, and I think we both thought that we knew more than we did about life and love and what it took to make them work.  Some of my life’s best moments have been with You, I gave You my heart for a very long time before I had to take it back for myself.  I know I was not what You thought You would be getting…I most certainly was not who Your parents wanted for You, and I think that was part of the allure for You in the beginning.  Then, I think once it got real, You couldn’t figure out how to own it and appropriately handle it.   I always felt that You were shameful of me…with Your family, with Your friends from school, with Your work peers.  We would be out, and run into someone You knew, and You would completely ignore me, neglect to introduce me or even acknowledge me.  Do You understand how deeply hurtful that was for me?  To live with that on a daily basis, ground me down to nothing.  And the whole time, I yearned for my old friend, I missed laughing with You and listening to music, cutting class to find a place to fuck.  When did that part of us die?  Because it was well before we got married…