I promise to return to the present soon and to offer up some fun and titillating details of my ventures in entering the adult world but this is where my mind is today. I apologize for the gravity but I need to take a moment to wrap myself around it.
Well, I guess my discretion is unnecessary since once again my husband has decided to air our private lives in Facebook conversations. Sigh. And I am once again to watch him dally amidst our friends as I remain uncomfortably ensconced. He says it is unfair for me to expect him to move outside the group because he doesn't meet people. He is very good at hurting me. He has always been good at it. Together, I think perhaps we are experts.
There was a time when we first dated that he skipped the opening night of a show I was starring in to spend the afternoon at the beach with another woman. He showed up to the cast party that night wanting me to feel sorry for him because he was so very sunburned. I didn't really even understand what had happened. I was 16 at the time. At another point, he thought he would have to leave me to marry the woman who claimed to be carrying his child. She wasn't but does it matter? I was 17 at the time. When I was 18, after we had broken up and I had dated and then left Mr. Darcy to be with him again, he proposed to me. I was the fifth woman he had proposed to. He married me because I said yes. I have always known this. And I said yes, because he needed me. He was a mess. A philanderer and at the time, completely bankrupt. He is an amazing musician, have I mentioned that? He put me in his band-at that time he had dated and/or slept with every female member. It was I who asked for the open marriage, not he. I thought maybe if we already had it in place, then when he cheated it wouldn't hurt. I never expected it would be me who would have an affair, if you call it that in such a situation. And I always thought if he had that freedom, at least he would choose to be discreet. But instead he publicly courted women amongst our group and got reinvolved with women who had already taken great pleasure in hurting me. And he complains that my presence causes his lack of success because our female friends like me too much to do something they worry would hurt me. Perhaps it is time to get out into the world.
I like to be in the company of men. It doesn't mean that I sleep with them. It doesn't mean that I don't. I simply like being around people and particularly people who find me interesting and attractive and enticing. I delight in the ambiguity of my life which affords me the opportunity to be amongst people without having to worry too much what it means. But he does not like to go out. He does not share my interests. He does not want my company.
I don't wish to paint such an uneven picture of the man and I know a great deal of time has passed since my teen years. We have had some wonderful times together and I would hardly call myself a victim, because not only have I allowed myself to be injured and scarred, I have stayed, left and returned. And I too have drawn my share of blood. My husband is at times a good man and a better man for me in his life as arrogant as that sounds. But he is often a stupid man. And immensely thoughtless. And very hurtful. It sucks.