Where I’ve been.

I’ve got this other blog. Y’all probably know about it. I link to it on my Facebook and my family reads it, which means that it has become yet another place where my true feelings (and true personality) are mostly underground.  Once again, I’m not writing anymore because everything feels silly and superficial. I don’t write about the affair there. Or, really, my marriage, since I’m friends with Boyfriend’s friends and family on Facebook, and I don’t really want them knowing those sorts of details about me. Boyfriend, however, doesn’t read the blog. He knows about it, but he prefers to hear about my life from me, not my impersonal blog. This works well for us.

If you read the other blog, an update is probably unnecessary. But then again, these are things I’ve never written about before. This is the only home for these things.

I moved back in with Cautionary Husband in October of 2009, right after I shut down this blog. That month, I saw Cautionary Lover again for the first time in almost a year and a half. We had sex. It was, as usual, mind-blowing. When I returned home, I finally admitted to myself that I never had sex like that with CH, I never would, and I couldn’t live the rest of my life like that. What it came down to, simply, is that I realized I never was sexually attracted to CH. I was a virgin when I married him. I didn’t even know what sexual attraction felt like. But I did by October of 2009, and I was certain it was never there with CH and never would be. Everything else we could fix with some hard work, but I knew we couldn’t fix that, regardless of how much we wanted to.

I told a good friend about seeing CL again, and she immediately dissolved our friendship. She said she couldn’t trust me as a person. She asked what was to keep me from fucking her boyfriend, since I was fucking another woman’s husband? The idea of pointing out to her the absurdity of her fears, the myriad differences between the situations, was just too tiresome. I decided I was better off without her as a friend. My friend count in this city dwindled further, to two or so. It’s still about there, in fact.

At the end of October, I took a walk through our neighborhood, called on some available apartments, saw one a day later, and moved in on November 1. CH and I spent Halloween night, our last night living together, watching the original Halloween on TV, surrounded by boxes. I cried because I sympathized with Michael Myers, a psychopathic murderer. I was moving for the third time in less than a year.

I spent November and December dating boys I didn’t really like. I hated being alone, so I took any excuse I could to get out, to be anywhere but home with myself. There was a guy who played keyboard in a band whose mouth became unbearably acidic when we made out. There was a guy from my high school youth group I’d always had a crush on; he took me on a date, got me drunk, fucked me, and then offered me cocaine off his granite countertop (I declined). There was a guy who was shorter than me whose O face still makes my stomach turn to remember it. There was a guy I met at the dog park who was out of my league, looks-wise, whose ex-girlfriend was on the current cover of a local magazine; he seemed to regard me as more of a little sister than a viable dating partner. There was a guy who worked on my floor and who bailed as soon as I told him about the affair; about CL, he said, simply, “that guy sucks.”

I had unprotected sex with both Cocaine Guy and O-Face Guy. I now have high-risk HPV and mild dysplasia (precancer) of the cervix, and I’m certain I contracted it from one of them. My money’s on Cocaine Guy. I’ve been tested for all the other STDs, and I thank God every day that I’m otherwise clean, though I will probably always have a nagging fear about HIV, since it’s known to hide from tests.

After Christmas, CL and I spent a night together in my apartment, the only night we’ve ever spent together, before or since. This was the last time I saw him. We made love all night and barely got a few hours’ sleep. He brought me a live bamboo as an apartment-warming gift. When he handed it to me, I said, “these are unlucky if you kill them.” He said, “well, don’t kill it.” It’s almost completely dead now, only one of the five stalks still green. The others are rotted and hollow. I have no idea how it died–they’re supposed to be very easy to keep alive. It just seemed determined.

As I lay in his arms post-coitus, he told me he was thinking of leaving his family. I didn’t ask any questions at the time. I didn’t want to assume he wanted to leave them to be with me. He didn’t say either way. A couple days later, on the eve of 2010, I found the courage to ask. He said he did want to be with me, but his exit strategy would take a while. A year or two. He told me not to wait for him; there were no guarantees. I asked him to please not to talk to me about it again until there were guarantees. There would never be guarantees.

That night I went to a party and met Boyfriend. Everything changed. I began to fall in love. CL couldn’t take it, so we stopped communicating. Boyfriend lives three hours away from me. All of 2010 is a blur of traveling there and back every other weekend, of him coming to see me the weekends in between. I got a new job. I stopped taking antidepressants. I was happy.

I think that about brings us up to speed. I take it as a good sign that an entire year passed, and the only thing I really have to say about it is that I was happy.

CH and I filed for divorce in October, and we’re still waiting for it to be finalized. Should be in the next month or so. It’s taken a while.

I was iffy on whether or  not to return here. I don’t feel like Cautionary Girl anymore. I don’t particularly want to reassume that title. I don’t want to associate myself with that life, those decisions. But it felt right, to resurrect this place from lockdown. To free all those posts that had required passwords at CH’s request.

Cautionary Girl is still a part of me. I’m still her. I’ve still got things I need to work through, which I’d like to write about here. I’m nowhere near perfect. Just happy now.

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1 Comment

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One response to “Where I’ve been.

  1. Hi S. Wow. I haven’t read your other blog…I wondered what happened to you. I think you still have permission to read my other now-private blog, if you want. I added you on Twitter.

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