I intend to be in a relationship based on trust and honesty.
I intend to give myself wholly to my mate and demand the same in return.
I intend to realistically assess if my wife can be the person I do this with.
I intend to get a divorce if the answer is "no".
I intend to not compromise my need for the basic, simple happiness of loving and being loved.
I intend to decide before summer.
I intend to do everything I can to fix my relationship with my wife.
I intend to give more weight to my needs.
I intend to never do anything I am not proud of.
I intend to be the person I have always wanted to be.
I intend to live with intent.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Anger
Anger is a funny thing, it appears when you least want it, but hides when you need it. I want to feel angry. I want to rage at the injustice of living an honest, open life and being taken advantage of. I want to be able to yell and ask how my wife could do this, where was her conscience, her sense of decency? How could she violate my trust so completely when I gave it unconditionally? How could she so completely abrogate everything our marriage and relationship was supposed to be? How? HOW???
And yet I am not angry. I am baffled, puzzled, hurt, even resentful, but I find it hard to be angry. I'm working on it ;-). I think it is because I know my wife too well: I understand too well how it could happen, how the emotional abuse of her childhood may have caused her to shut down the part of her soul feeling loyalty and obligation to people close to her. Those people hurt her. I understand how her strict religious upbringing taught her guilt and self-loathing for the great sin of being a sexual being; how her father poured contempt and derision on her for being a woman and how he abused her vulnerability and relative weakness. I understand how she might have wanted to feel good about being a woman, a strong, tough woman in control of her own sexuality. I comprehend how she may have learned to shut down the part of her which sought out romance and intimacy, having been denied it in her marriage to me. I can see how she might have been desperate to feel the love and approval she wasn't getting from me, to feel the connection and tenderness I was unable to give her for my own reasons. I can see how she would have loved to feel beautiful, wanted, adored, how the ability to attract men would have been irresistible. I see the allure of feeling appreciated, being wanted and accepted. I understand her wish to wholeheartedly reject the shame associated with sex.
I can see how the seeming inevitability of her actions and the shame at having violated her own sense of morals might have been overwhelming and caused her to decide she no longer cared about right and wrong; how after a while she might have stopped even asking herself what is right and wrong.
And here we are, at a crossroad, deciding if we can recover from this tragedy and sally forth together or if the pain of deceit, resentment and past hurt is more than we can bear.
I understand all this I and I am sad. How I long for the simplicity of anger, that pure, beautiful, uncomplicated emotion.
And yet I am not angry. I am baffled, puzzled, hurt, even resentful, but I find it hard to be angry. I'm working on it ;-). I think it is because I know my wife too well: I understand too well how it could happen, how the emotional abuse of her childhood may have caused her to shut down the part of her soul feeling loyalty and obligation to people close to her. Those people hurt her. I understand how her strict religious upbringing taught her guilt and self-loathing for the great sin of being a sexual being; how her father poured contempt and derision on her for being a woman and how he abused her vulnerability and relative weakness. I understand how she might have wanted to feel good about being a woman, a strong, tough woman in control of her own sexuality. I comprehend how she may have learned to shut down the part of her which sought out romance and intimacy, having been denied it in her marriage to me. I can see how she might have been desperate to feel the love and approval she wasn't getting from me, to feel the connection and tenderness I was unable to give her for my own reasons. I can see how she would have loved to feel beautiful, wanted, adored, how the ability to attract men would have been irresistible. I see the allure of feeling appreciated, being wanted and accepted. I understand her wish to wholeheartedly reject the shame associated with sex.
I can see how the seeming inevitability of her actions and the shame at having violated her own sense of morals might have been overwhelming and caused her to decide she no longer cared about right and wrong; how after a while she might have stopped even asking herself what is right and wrong.
And here we are, at a crossroad, deciding if we can recover from this tragedy and sally forth together or if the pain of deceit, resentment and past hurt is more than we can bear.
I understand all this I and I am sad. How I long for the simplicity of anger, that pure, beautiful, uncomplicated emotion.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Questions
There are questions I need to answer:
1- Can I get past the hurt and resentment?
2- Do we have enough in the marriage to be worth saving?
3- Would it be different with anyone else, or would all the same problems reappear?
4- Will open marriage work for us?
5- Do we have enough commonality in what we want out of each other and marriage to make it work?
6- Is the price of divorce worth paying?
1- Can I get past the hurt and resentment?
I don't know. I hope so. I seem to be gaining perspective on it by the day, understanding why it happened, how it happened. I am almost not angry anymore. On the other hand, there are some core feelings of violation of trust, unfairness and loss (theft) that I am not seeming to really get past. Perhaps because those are things that are objectively true, determined by facts and not how I feel about them: my trust was violated, it was unfair and stuff was taken from my marriage.
2- Do we have enough of a relationship to be worth saving?
That's a bit easier. I think yes. All the gentle reader knows of my wife is that she cheated on me on and off for most of my adult life. That is the ugly side of her. The truth is that is only a tiny little slice of who she is (but an important one, as it lies at the core of what connects us). The vast majority of my wife is a really nice, caring person. If you met her, you would like her. Really. She has many great qualities, I just haven't really mentioned them. She made some very poor choices, hurting me and herself. That is not "who" she it. She is a good person. That is worth saving. We also have this incredible history together. We know each other better than anyone else ever could. Shared history, growing up together, kids, pets, houses. We are comfortable with each other. We understand and have mostly made peace with each other's peculiarities. We have developed the same beliefs and preferences. We have kids together which we are doing a pretty good job of raising.
So there is a lot to lose if we split up.
3- Would it be better with anyone else?
That is a hard question. I don't know. Would the deficiencies of our marriage (lack of passion, intimacy, and now trust) be different with anyone else, or would it be the same play with a casting change? Would I have enough of the good stuff I have now with my wife and get something else to boot? I guess they would not have cheated on me, and I would never *not* have an at least somewhat open relationship in the future. On the other hand, the pain of this experience would not go away and I might still have trouble trusting the new person, although I wouldn't be reminded of it daily. There might well be aspects of the new person and my relationship with her that would be better: more compatibility, less bad history and built-up resentment.
4- Will open marriage work for us?
That is a complete unknown. I feel like we have no choice. My wife has demonstrated as well as stated that she doesn't attach any moral question to secret affairs. She said she stopped even asking the question of whether they were good/bad. They were just something she was going to do to make herself happy, and didn't think of it beyond that initial decision. That being the case, I feel it is impossible for me to even consider a normal marriage with her: the next time things turned to crap between us, she would seek the same escape. She would lie again if she had promised not to. I would never know if she was telling the truth or not.
As harsh an assessment as that is, an open marriage may work: the only rule is that there are (almost) no rules. Use a condom, let the other person know it happened.
The problem I see for myself is that I am not looking for sex per se. What I want is romance, love. That is hard to achieve in casual sexual encounters, very hard. Impossible. I have a hard time seeing myself satisfied with one-night-stands. So where does one find real romance out there, and wouldn't it severely detract from our marriage? Lastly, if I did find real romance and "connection" with someone out there, wouldn't I just want the whole enchilada with them? Because the truth is that that is was I want: everything. I want to come home and have someone really happy to see me, want to talk to me, not be able to wait to be alone to do something with me: read, watch a movie, make love, have sex, make out. Did I mention sex? Not want to go to sleep because it is so much more fun to be up with me. That is what I want. I don't know, other than sex, what affairs could provide.
There are people who claim this works great. The disadvantage we have is that we are coming from a situation of complete lack of trust and more than a little hurt. I don't think I would engage in "angry screwing", but these aren't the best conditions under which to start something so rife with challenges.
5- Sufficient commonality
I'm not sure. In the recent past, I think the answer was "no". My wife sees/saw marriage merely as a vehicle for raising children, making a life together, being close friends, good roommates. I want, I need so much more. I need a hint of being in love. I need to really feel wanted in every way. I see marriage as this deep emotional bonding between two people. This is not completely unlike what one might have with a close friend, but it is more. I don't know if the "extra" part is just sexual or if it is a warm tenderness in your heart for each other. Whatever it is, I now need a lot more than just being friends and roommates.
The nature of our relationship appears to have changed, although the precipitating events are so new, it is hard to know what will stick, and if the freedom of honesty and her current external romantic experience will have changed her view of what she wants out of marriage, if indeed she returns wanting to remain married.
6- Is the price of divorce worth paying?
That is a tough question. I am adding this question after the initial post of this article, because we both recently came to the conclusion that we probably would be better off getting a divorce. We started discussing realistic options, negotiating terms. The conclusion of this first pass is that it would cost us a lot, in every way. Some of the more significant are how to split up the kids, the loss of a relationship that still has many great things about it, and the additional financial burden of maintaining two households. The kid-issue is the hardest: not being able to see your kids every day, not being there when they wake up in the middle of the night with a nightmare. That idea breaks my heart. The loss of the relationship with my wife would also be hard. In spite of everything, my wife an I have an extraordinarily close and (mostly) honest, open relationship. That would be a great loss. The financial reality would also be difficult: if we stay together, we will soon be in the enviable position of having a house that is paid for. This would free us up to pursue careers that do not generate 6-figure incomes.
I guess we'll see. We have a few months to decide, see what happens. Just think of all the great blog material.
Sorry for the brain-dump. I feel so much better now.
Goodnight.
1- Can I get past the hurt and resentment?
2- Do we have enough in the marriage to be worth saving?
3- Would it be different with anyone else, or would all the same problems reappear?
4- Will open marriage work for us?
5- Do we have enough commonality in what we want out of each other and marriage to make it work?
6- Is the price of divorce worth paying?
1- Can I get past the hurt and resentment?
I don't know. I hope so. I seem to be gaining perspective on it by the day, understanding why it happened, how it happened. I am almost not angry anymore. On the other hand, there are some core feelings of violation of trust, unfairness and loss (theft) that I am not seeming to really get past. Perhaps because those are things that are objectively true, determined by facts and not how I feel about them: my trust was violated, it was unfair and stuff was taken from my marriage.
2- Do we have enough of a relationship to be worth saving?
That's a bit easier. I think yes. All the gentle reader knows of my wife is that she cheated on me on and off for most of my adult life. That is the ugly side of her. The truth is that is only a tiny little slice of who she is (but an important one, as it lies at the core of what connects us). The vast majority of my wife is a really nice, caring person. If you met her, you would like her. Really. She has many great qualities, I just haven't really mentioned them. She made some very poor choices, hurting me and herself. That is not "who" she it. She is a good person. That is worth saving. We also have this incredible history together. We know each other better than anyone else ever could. Shared history, growing up together, kids, pets, houses. We are comfortable with each other. We understand and have mostly made peace with each other's peculiarities. We have developed the same beliefs and preferences. We have kids together which we are doing a pretty good job of raising.
So there is a lot to lose if we split up.
3- Would it be better with anyone else?
That is a hard question. I don't know. Would the deficiencies of our marriage (lack of passion, intimacy, and now trust) be different with anyone else, or would it be the same play with a casting change? Would I have enough of the good stuff I have now with my wife and get something else to boot? I guess they would not have cheated on me, and I would never *not* have an at least somewhat open relationship in the future. On the other hand, the pain of this experience would not go away and I might still have trouble trusting the new person, although I wouldn't be reminded of it daily. There might well be aspects of the new person and my relationship with her that would be better: more compatibility, less bad history and built-up resentment.
4- Will open marriage work for us?
That is a complete unknown. I feel like we have no choice. My wife has demonstrated as well as stated that she doesn't attach any moral question to secret affairs. She said she stopped even asking the question of whether they were good/bad. They were just something she was going to do to make herself happy, and didn't think of it beyond that initial decision. That being the case, I feel it is impossible for me to even consider a normal marriage with her: the next time things turned to crap between us, she would seek the same escape. She would lie again if she had promised not to. I would never know if she was telling the truth or not.
As harsh an assessment as that is, an open marriage may work: the only rule is that there are (almost) no rules. Use a condom, let the other person know it happened.
The problem I see for myself is that I am not looking for sex per se. What I want is romance, love. That is hard to achieve in casual sexual encounters, very hard. Impossible. I have a hard time seeing myself satisfied with one-night-stands. So where does one find real romance out there, and wouldn't it severely detract from our marriage? Lastly, if I did find real romance and "connection" with someone out there, wouldn't I just want the whole enchilada with them? Because the truth is that that is was I want: everything. I want to come home and have someone really happy to see me, want to talk to me, not be able to wait to be alone to do something with me: read, watch a movie, make love, have sex, make out. Did I mention sex? Not want to go to sleep because it is so much more fun to be up with me. That is what I want. I don't know, other than sex, what affairs could provide.
There are people who claim this works great. The disadvantage we have is that we are coming from a situation of complete lack of trust and more than a little hurt. I don't think I would engage in "angry screwing", but these aren't the best conditions under which to start something so rife with challenges.
5- Sufficient commonality
I'm not sure. In the recent past, I think the answer was "no". My wife sees/saw marriage merely as a vehicle for raising children, making a life together, being close friends, good roommates. I want, I need so much more. I need a hint of being in love. I need to really feel wanted in every way. I see marriage as this deep emotional bonding between two people. This is not completely unlike what one might have with a close friend, but it is more. I don't know if the "extra" part is just sexual or if it is a warm tenderness in your heart for each other. Whatever it is, I now need a lot more than just being friends and roommates.
The nature of our relationship appears to have changed, although the precipitating events are so new, it is hard to know what will stick, and if the freedom of honesty and her current external romantic experience will have changed her view of what she wants out of marriage, if indeed she returns wanting to remain married.
6- Is the price of divorce worth paying?
That is a tough question. I am adding this question after the initial post of this article, because we both recently came to the conclusion that we probably would be better off getting a divorce. We started discussing realistic options, negotiating terms. The conclusion of this first pass is that it would cost us a lot, in every way. Some of the more significant are how to split up the kids, the loss of a relationship that still has many great things about it, and the additional financial burden of maintaining two households. The kid-issue is the hardest: not being able to see your kids every day, not being there when they wake up in the middle of the night with a nightmare. That idea breaks my heart. The loss of the relationship with my wife would also be hard. In spite of everything, my wife an I have an extraordinarily close and (mostly) honest, open relationship. That would be a great loss. The financial reality would also be difficult: if we stay together, we will soon be in the enviable position of having a house that is paid for. This would free us up to pursue careers that do not generate 6-figure incomes.
I guess we'll see. We have a few months to decide, see what happens. Just think of all the great blog material.
Sorry for the brain-dump. I feel so much better now.
Goodnight.
The cost of an affair
So I've always had this rather "economic" view of affairs, namely the if they don't cost me anything, why should I care? This was an abstract theoretical position. It was recently put to the test.
I am now able to compare several different types of affairs: long ones with a strong romantic content, short romantic one, short unromantic ones, and "open" ones (where the spouse knows about it). Most of these experiences were my wife having affairs, I had a one-timer and an "open" one recently. I will draw from both of our reactions. I claim no universality to my observations, this is just how it seems to feel for us.
My first observation is that the thing that hurts the most by far is the deception, lying and betrayal. The sex or even romance is almost inconsequential. They could have been playing tiddlywinks and the effect would not have been much different. Being lied to for years attacks trust, which is foundational to any close relationship. The lack of trust will probably be the biggest problem we face, if I had to guess. My wife is right now spending time getting reaquainted with an old lover while on vacation in Spain. I wish it were me, so I am envious (I would love a vacation in Spain), but I am not really that bothered by it because I knew about it, even before her "confession". I had an overnight stay at a woman's house with my wife's approval. She claims, and appears, to not be bothered by it.
The second observation is that the cost of an affair seems to be proportional to how long it lasted and how much time/energy it took from the marriage. Most of my wife's affairs where short (a few days to a few weeks), and didn't really take that much time away from us. There are only two that I really have a hard time getting my head around: one is a two-year affair she had 15 years ago. This involved many (50?) encounters and a lot of time spent together. During this time, my wife had no desire at all for sex with me and even was denying it to me. That affair cost our marriage and me a lot. The other is her overseas boyfriend she goes and sees every summer for several weeks. That is mostly just time away. Vacation and fun experiences that happen with someone else instead of me.
My third observation is that much of what I feel can only be described as envy and resentment. I wish I could have been allowed to pursue "fun" during that same time. When I proposed openness, it was flatly turned down as gross. I dropped it and played by the rules. In the true definition of cheating, my wife wanted different rules to apply to me than to her. That wasn't "fair", as my kids would say.
Lastly, I don't think all affairs are bad in a practical sense. This may well seem self-serving, but I really don't think that my affair was bad for our marriage: it made me desperately want to try to get the spark of passion back in our marriage, and really re-awoke (or gave birth to) the hidden romantic in me. I was frantically wooing my wife for a couple months after it happened. It really gave me a whole new outlook on life.
So the cost of affairs for us seems to be: breakdown of trust caused by deceit, the time/energy diverted from the marriage and the resentment caused by the unfairness of two sets of rules.
So here is some simple unsolicited, opinionated advice about a standard affair:
1- DON'T DO IT if you care about your marriage. If you don't, go nuts.
2- Try to fix your marriage.
3- If outside sex/romance is something you need, negotiate an "open" marriage which can at least still be based on trust. The violation of trust is the worst thing by far, perhaps the only bad thing. The time spent can then be negotiated too.
4- If you can't negotiate an open marriage, either suck it up or get a divorce.
5- As a last resort, if you do it, NEVER, EVER, EVER confess. Lie through your teeth until the day you die. Never tell anyone else. The cost of this is high though: it puts up a huge barrier to intimacy and closeness. I am convinced that was a lot of the problem in my marriage for the last 17 years. This may kill your marriage, just much more slowly and subtly. This is a real hidden cost, which is why it is the last resort.
So that's my free advice, and it's worth every penny.
I am now able to compare several different types of affairs: long ones with a strong romantic content, short romantic one, short unromantic ones, and "open" ones (where the spouse knows about it). Most of these experiences were my wife having affairs, I had a one-timer and an "open" one recently. I will draw from both of our reactions. I claim no universality to my observations, this is just how it seems to feel for us.
My first observation is that the thing that hurts the most by far is the deception, lying and betrayal. The sex or even romance is almost inconsequential. They could have been playing tiddlywinks and the effect would not have been much different. Being lied to for years attacks trust, which is foundational to any close relationship. The lack of trust will probably be the biggest problem we face, if I had to guess. My wife is right now spending time getting reaquainted with an old lover while on vacation in Spain. I wish it were me, so I am envious (I would love a vacation in Spain), but I am not really that bothered by it because I knew about it, even before her "confession". I had an overnight stay at a woman's house with my wife's approval. She claims, and appears, to not be bothered by it.
The second observation is that the cost of an affair seems to be proportional to how long it lasted and how much time/energy it took from the marriage. Most of my wife's affairs where short (a few days to a few weeks), and didn't really take that much time away from us. There are only two that I really have a hard time getting my head around: one is a two-year affair she had 15 years ago. This involved many (50?) encounters and a lot of time spent together. During this time, my wife had no desire at all for sex with me and even was denying it to me. That affair cost our marriage and me a lot. The other is her overseas boyfriend she goes and sees every summer for several weeks. That is mostly just time away. Vacation and fun experiences that happen with someone else instead of me.
My third observation is that much of what I feel can only be described as envy and resentment. I wish I could have been allowed to pursue "fun" during that same time. When I proposed openness, it was flatly turned down as gross. I dropped it and played by the rules. In the true definition of cheating, my wife wanted different rules to apply to me than to her. That wasn't "fair", as my kids would say.
Lastly, I don't think all affairs are bad in a practical sense. This may well seem self-serving, but I really don't think that my affair was bad for our marriage: it made me desperately want to try to get the spark of passion back in our marriage, and really re-awoke (or gave birth to) the hidden romantic in me. I was frantically wooing my wife for a couple months after it happened. It really gave me a whole new outlook on life.
So the cost of affairs for us seems to be: breakdown of trust caused by deceit, the time/energy diverted from the marriage and the resentment caused by the unfairness of two sets of rules.
So here is some simple unsolicited, opinionated advice about a standard affair:
1- DON'T DO IT if you care about your marriage. If you don't, go nuts.
2- Try to fix your marriage.
3- If outside sex/romance is something you need, negotiate an "open" marriage which can at least still be based on trust. The violation of trust is the worst thing by far, perhaps the only bad thing. The time spent can then be negotiated too.
4- If you can't negotiate an open marriage, either suck it up or get a divorce.
5- As a last resort, if you do it, NEVER, EVER, EVER confess. Lie through your teeth until the day you die. Never tell anyone else. The cost of this is high though: it puts up a huge barrier to intimacy and closeness. I am convinced that was a lot of the problem in my marriage for the last 17 years. This may kill your marriage, just much more slowly and subtly. This is a real hidden cost, which is why it is the last resort.
So that's my free advice, and it's worth every penny.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
I love, I hate
I love your strength.
I hate your addictions.
I love your independence.
I hate your lack of respect for yourself and your body.
I love your determination.
I hate your lack of self-control.
I love your boldness and courage.
I hate your anger.
I love your passion for your passions.
I hate your lack of motivation for things you find uninteresting.
I love your generosity and selflessness
I hate your narcissism and selfishness.
I love your attentiveness to the physical needs of your family.
I hate your abuse of my unconditional trust.
I love your kindness.
I hate your willingness to expose me to health risks.
I love your empathy.
I hate your lying and deceit.
I love your concern for the integrity of other marriages.
I hate your lack of concern for ours.
I love your ability to make decisions.
I hate your lack of passion for me.
I love your spirit of adventure.
I hate you writing off your betrayal as normal, common, excusable.
I love your positive attitude.
I hate your stubbornness and inability to take suggestions.
I love your dedication to our kids.
I hate your abuse of my generosity and reluctance to leave you.
I love that you know every bit of me.
I hate your rejection of any specific responsibility for our problems.
I love that we grew up together.
I hate being #5 on your list of priorities
I love that we are entering middle-age together.
I hate the distance between us which your infidelity contributed to.
I love that you support me in everything I do.
I hate that you cheated on me while adopting our youngest.
I love that you are my best friend.
I hate that your lovers stole mental focus and passion from our marriage.
I love that you are brave and had the courage to tell me about them.
I hate having to reinterpret history.
I love that you are open-minded and flexible.
I hate that you lost your sense of obligation and duty, honor and morality.
I love that your are willing to reinvent yourself, start over with yourself.
I hate that I will never be able to trust you again.
I love having inside jokes that no one else would understand or appreciate.
I hate your disbelief in romance.
I love having you be able to finish my sentences, or being wordlessly understood.
I hate that you denied me physical intimacy when I was young.
I love your dedication to being happy.
I hate the means you were willing to take to ensure your happiness.
I love that we can talk openly about almost anything.
I hate that you are so conflict-adverse that constructive discussions of serious differences are so hard.
I love your love of me despite my genuine failures as a person, husband, father.
I hate it when I think that we might be in the last days of our marriage.
I love that I know 99% of you.
I hate that we have different ideas of what marriage should be.
I love that you genuinely love me.
I hate that I have been unable to meet your needs.
I love you.
I hate your addictions.
I love your independence.
I hate your lack of respect for yourself and your body.
I love your determination.
I hate your lack of self-control.
I love your boldness and courage.
I hate your anger.
I love your passion for your passions.
I hate your lack of motivation for things you find uninteresting.
I love your generosity and selflessness
I hate your narcissism and selfishness.
I love your attentiveness to the physical needs of your family.
I hate your abuse of my unconditional trust.
I love your kindness.
I hate your willingness to expose me to health risks.
I love your empathy.
I hate your lying and deceit.
I love your concern for the integrity of other marriages.
I hate your lack of concern for ours.
I love your ability to make decisions.
I hate your lack of passion for me.
I love your spirit of adventure.
I hate you writing off your betrayal as normal, common, excusable.
I love your positive attitude.
I hate your stubbornness and inability to take suggestions.
I love your dedication to our kids.
I hate your abuse of my generosity and reluctance to leave you.
I love that you know every bit of me.
I hate your rejection of any specific responsibility for our problems.
I love that we grew up together.
I hate being #5 on your list of priorities
I love that we are entering middle-age together.
I hate the distance between us which your infidelity contributed to.
I love that you support me in everything I do.
I hate that you cheated on me while adopting our youngest.
I love that you are my best friend.
I hate that your lovers stole mental focus and passion from our marriage.
I love that you are brave and had the courage to tell me about them.
I hate having to reinterpret history.
I love that you are open-minded and flexible.
I hate that you lost your sense of obligation and duty, honor and morality.
I love that your are willing to reinvent yourself, start over with yourself.
I hate that I will never be able to trust you again.
I love having inside jokes that no one else would understand or appreciate.
I hate your disbelief in romance.
I love having you be able to finish my sentences, or being wordlessly understood.
I hate that you denied me physical intimacy when I was young.
I love your dedication to being happy.
I hate the means you were willing to take to ensure your happiness.
I love that we can talk openly about almost anything.
I hate that you are so conflict-adverse that constructive discussions of serious differences are so hard.
I love your love of me despite my genuine failures as a person, husband, father.
I hate it when I think that we might be in the last days of our marriage.
I love that I know 99% of you.
I hate that we have different ideas of what marriage should be.
I love that you genuinely love me.
I hate that I have been unable to meet your needs.
I love you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
