Here’s something a lot of people don’t understand or don’t want to understand: you can be in love with two people at the same time. It’s not a crime, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, it just is.
See, I’m in love with you. I’m also in love with my husband, and I know you’re in love with your wife. One of my friends – I tell so few people about this that the ones who know are ones dear to me – said you should be my hall pass, then had to explain that to me. You’re not a celebrity, you’re not a rock star, you’re just you. Talented, funny, and sometimes so serious and awkward that I can’t help loving you.
I get the feeling sometimes that you have some sort of feelings for me too. I certainly know at the very least that you care about me. Whether it’s a favorite on Twitter, a like on Facebook, or just a passing word that you remember where I live when I don’t even remember telling you, you tell me in these little ways that you’re keeping up with me and my life. You were the first to say “Happy Birthday” to me this year, even before my family. You asked me how I was doing when you saw that my marriage was on the rocks. Like I said, I know you care. I just don’t know how much.
My husband thinks this is hilarious. Hell, he encourages it. He says things like “what if he likes you?” in a tone of voice you usually only hear from one middle-schooler to another. He knows how much I love you and he accepts it. It’s one of the reasons I love him so much.
I never want to lose my husband like I would never want you to lose your wife. But I can’t stop loving you and I can never, ever tell you how I feel. We’re friends and I wouldn’t want to lose that, but sometimes when we talk all I can think about is what it would be like to kiss you. When you hug me I want it to go on forever. And when you stand beside me I wonder if anyone would ever think I was your girlfriend.
Sometimes I cry because I have these feelings for you, this need to be with you and hear your voice and see you smile. I want to talk to you, to email or text you just to say hi so we don’t break our connection, but I’m afraid you’ll think I’m overbearing. If I ever held your hand I would probably just burst into tears. It’s like a sappy romantic comedy, only one-sided. You’re near me but just far enough away that I would never be able to reach you.
You toss around “love you” like it’s nothing, not knowing what it means to me. It drives me crazy but I never want it to end. I never want this feeling to end.
All the shattered hearts and broken promises that I thought I was angry about all seem so irrelevant now. I know that separating is probably the best thing for both of us, but it’s killing me. I no longer care about whether I pass or fail in school. I no longer care about graphic design. None of that matters without him.
How could I have been so blind? So stupid? I got so lost in the things that he had done to me that I forgot about the girl he brought to life. I may not be able to prevent the pain he causes me now and again, but I am in control of MY actions, and my actions have been deplorable.
This isn’t me. I don’t retaliate. I forgive, and I move on. When did I lose sight of that girl? His mistakes should have never been repeated no matter how much I wanted him to understand. He’s a man. He will never understand the emotions of a woman. I sure don’t understand the emotions of a man.
It’s probably too late for us. I simply hope someone else can learn from our mistakes. Forgiveness is a wonderful thing, and by forgiving your spouse you can make a stand. You can say that you will not allow the darkness to destroy what you both have built, even if you have to build the walls on your own.
The happiness in our eyes has been gone for quite a while. Once they told the world a story of a love that few would ever experience. Somewhere along the way, we forgot how lucky we were to have found each other. I wish I had been better at showing him how truly grateful I was to have him here. And while many might say that I should use these lessons for the next guy, I know, without a single doubt, that there will be no other for me. The attention that I was seeking from others never managed to replace what I was desperately in need of from him. And because of my foolishness, there will always be a break in his heart that won’t heal, and that I am responsible for. No matter how many times I assure him that I never followed through, he will always believe I did. Maybe that’s even worse. He will spend the rest of his life hoping that my words are true but never truly believing.
Dear God, what have I done? I ruined the only thing that was truly pure and beautiful in my life out of pure spite. My life has never had any light in it until he came along. The day I met him, everything sprang to life. The grass was greener; the sky was bluer. Exactly when did I lose sight of that? Was it the first time he slapped me? Was it the day he broke my tailbone? I seem to recall a spark up until the moment that I felt that a single promise from him had become necessary – that no matter how our fights ended, if something ever happened to me that he would not panic and kill our children as well. Anything that was left after that died the moment I pleaded for my own life.
I know this relationship isn’t healthy. I’m fully capable of taking a step back and screaming to the girl before me, “For God’s sake, run!” But I stand by a decision I made one night in our Blessing home: if I intended to love him, then I was going to love him to the end, whether it be tragic or happily ever after. It looks like tragedy is the theme of this play, but at least the heroes in question have lost only their souls and not their lives.
I have been married for over 5 years. My husband is a good, kind man. But he doesn’t meet my needs in the ways I need. He is not super affectionate; he doesn’t tell me I’m pretty, he doesn’t flirt with me. He rarely comes to me for sex (though he’s not going elsewhere, either). He’s an extreme introvert, and a poor communicator. I’ve talked to him numerous times about what I need from him in those ways. He says he will try–and doesn’t. I still love him more than life.
For my job, I had to take an extended trip–three weeks with another co-worker. This co-worker told me on this trip that for the entire time I have been at my job, he has had an interest in me. That has grown into something a lot more. He is a good man–single, nice, funny, affectionate. He tells me I’m beautiful, I’m important. He flirts with me. He makes me feel alive. I didn’t have more than friendship feelings for him before, but that has exploded into something much more.
I kissed him at some point on the trip. I’m not sure why–I just got it into my head I wanted to. This wasn’t his intention–I know it wasn’t. We swore that was it–it was the elephant in the room, now it was over, we knew what it was like, and it was done.
But it wasn’t done.
We didn’t have sex, but we did practically everything else on this trip. It felt natural, and the chemistry was unlike anything I have ever experienced–not even with my husband. Since we’ve returned, nothing has happened, but we flirt. We talk about our next work trip. We text constantly. We hide it from everyone at work.
Now I’m in trouble. I love them both. My husband is comfortable and kind, respectable and smart. He cares for me. My co-worker is exciting, he communicates how he is feeling, he flirts, and tells me every chance he can how important I am to him. He struggles because he wants me in his arms, and hates that I can’t be there. He knows he wants more than I can give him, but he would never ask me for it.
I want them both. I love them both. I can’t imagine life without either. But one I have to hide, and the other I have to lie to. And you can’t have both.
How did I get into this mess? I am going to destroy three hearts with my own already split in two.
We all have letters we’d like to send, but know that we can’t. A letter to someone we no longer have a relationship with, a letter to a family member or friend who has died, a letter to reclaim our power or our voice from an abuser.
Letters where actual contact is just not possible.
Do you have a letter you can’t send?
Why not send it to The Band?
Dear Nick,
Fine, I’ll be here for when you need some quick sex or someone to yell at. Don’t worry about my fucking sanity, all that matters is yours. You have put me through so much yet hardly want to own up to it.
I have told you things about me that no one knows. When I opened up to you last night about some things that my ex said, I thought that I would receive the same compassion and comfort that I give to you when all you want to do is die. But I was wrong. You had zero compassion, or love, or understanding for what he put me through. I don’t care about him, I really don’t. But it still hurts that someone I had given everything to told me that I don’t meet his standards. Can you understand that?
Do you know how much that hurt me? You don’t seem to care what I’m feeling as long as you get laid and have someone to comfort you. What the hell am I supposed to do if I get hurt? If you can’t say a few comforting words when I’m reliving a bad memory, what happens if I really get hurt? Why am I so willing to put myself through the wringer for someone who doesn’t seem to care?
You know, reading books and watching movies you often see the protagonist face a crucial decision. Would he or she become the large-hearted, generous person he or she should be? What would be the outcome of not doing so? What should he or she hold on to? What are the priorities?
And while they say “Fancy please, all I want is everything,” the real world is made of bleaker atoms than that.
Something has been disturbing my peace of mind, and while there isn’t much that I can do about it, there is much fretting that I can still do.
Let me pen portrait the background first. My hubby and his brother had a complicated upbringing (as is my perception of it). Both the boys grew up to be very different even though they have a very strong bond.
My husband is the diligent one. My brother-in-law is the happy-go-lucky one. Both of them have some complexes, and they are different. My husband is his mother’s baby. His brother is father-mushy.
My husband had a hard beginning in his career, but he is a saver. He never splurges more than his means, and always makes sure we are adding to the savings, even if they may be minuscule amounts. And I work. There are two incomes, and that makes the cushion stay.
My brother-in-law has worked at better places comparatively, and ended up living in a big city for a couple of years. The cost of living was high, and his lifestyle habits and demands of the city put a hole in the wallet. His wife stopped working after the first baby arrived. There was no cushion. They lived paycheck to paycheck, and with unexpected expenses shooting in, they looked to family to help them out.
I have never interfered with the monetary and other offers of help extended to the family.
When my sister-in-law got pregnant again, she chose ostensibly to not tell our side of the family till her sixth month (which has permanently dented my desire to communicate with her). During her last trimester she shifted to the hometown for the last stretch.
Then, my brother-in-law lost his job.
His wife was pregnant, and he knew that she will eventually deliver, but my brother-in-law did not pick up the tab of his wife’s labor and delivery charges. My father-in-law did.
And then he was pittied because he had lost his job. He too shifted back to the hometown and began looking for another job.
My sister-in-law stayed with her mum, and conveniently got the older child enrolled in the school that was a stone’s throw away. My brother-in-law lived with his parents, and both of them became bigger martyrs for not being able to stay together.
In the mid-2000’s, we had bought a duplex in our hometown. The next year we rented it out to a family. The rent we received helped us pay our home loan. We were lucky to have very nice tenants, and the same family still inhabits the house.
The house of my in-laws is ancient, and situated to the ill-convenience of everyone. Also, it has now become difficult to manage for my mother-in-law who doesn’t want to hire paid help for household work. My brother-in-law floated the idea of selling it and moving into a smaller flat, so that things would be better. My father-in-law asked for my husband’s opinion. My husband was against selling the property. He did not mind the move but did not want the parental home to be sold. His brother does not have the money to buy a flat on his own, and the idea died a natural death.
Now a new idea has mushroomed. Since my niece has now shifted to a senior class and the building is closer to our duplex. we will give up the rental income and my husband’s family will shift in. My brother-in-law said he and his wife would move in first and then a few months later, he would shift his parents with them.
I cannot change my husband’s decision to get the house vacated, but I made it very clear that the house was not meant to be occupied like this. I don’t want my husband’s brother to move in, unless my in-laws are moving in at the same time.
Now the entire burden of the loan payment will fall on us. My husband’s income is not consistent. We often spar on money related matters. I don’t need a crystal ball to see that he will eventually realize that the drain on him has increased and it will irritate him, even if he does not believe that his family has contributed to his stress.
I can’t make him remove his rose-tinted glasses for his family.
I know I have to let this go, and accept the change, but I am feeling selfish over handing the house to them. I am trying to find the frame of mind of being very generous, but I am struggling.
What would you do if you were in my shoes? Am I being too petty?
