The last post was supposed to be the last post about First Love. The love that when I was young felt s a c r e d, literally s a c r e d. The love I wasn't able to let go of. The love that re-emerged and gave me the impetus to divorce my Ex.
EX. Ex had a lot of affairs since 2004, there was at least one before we got married, that I forgave. I forgave. I forgave and forgot until recently. Then in 2004 there was another affair, that Ex told me about because he was afraid, she told him she was on the way to our house and was going to kill him and I. That was the first one that I know of while we were married.
Although there is that matter of finding a pair of very small panties in the dryer (maybe around 2002-3) once too. I had no idea where they came from. I saved them for evidence in case the Ex was ever accused of murder, then I'd have the evidence. I'm not joking, I believed he was capable of murder, serial murder even.
I don't mean to be flippant, I was really messed up while I was married to Ex. He is a kind and gentle person, he really has been for as long as I've known him. It's not as if he enjoys torturing little animals or anything, he's gentle in an impersonal way. It's just that he told me he had once been, sort of, a person of interest in a serial murder case. So that's why I wrote that. He was very angry that his father was so disloyal as to NOT tell the police that he thought the Ex was incapable of such acts.
Before I met Ex I was still in love with First Love. Had not gotten over him. Looked him up on-line to see if he resided in the last city I knew he moved to, and found his name with his wife's name in the phone book, so concluded he was still married and gave up on ever finding anyone I would ever love as much.
As a last ditch attempt to find someone to marry I posted an on-line ad and the first person who responded was Ex. That was around the anniversary of when First Love and I had a tramatic event, Dec 26-28 was that traumatic event. I met Ex on Dec 22, the day of his wife's birthday, I later learned.
It felt different from the beginning. It felt possible that we could have a real connection. I had been on lots of dates over the years, but only one came remotely close to marriage. Remotely.
So I'd given up hope, or maybe I had one last hope. One last hope that I pinned onto Ex.
Then in 2004 is when all the affairs started. Every time I knew one ended I thought "That's the last one." Until I heard myself say it so many times I finally laughed and realized, "Yes, it was only the last one, not the final one, but the most recent one." It was so humiliating. He told me once. "Five. Five just seems to be the right number [of people to date at one time]. It just works out best." That five did not include me. Of course the memory of that woman who threatened us with murder, always loomed like a sharpened pendulum over my head.
When a person thinks they are in love . . . I didn't know the characters of any of these women Ex dated, except I did know they were daing him even when they knew he was married. So I assumed they were desperate. I was worried that one of them might be capable of violence towards him or me. I felt unsafe in that way, and in other ways too. Maybe its just my imagination that people commit murder in the name of love, but anyway, its the stuff of gothic horror stories. It was a lot of confused and constant worry and hurt.
So finally when three of the Ex's girlfriends ganged up on me, phoning me, leaving stuff at the house, writing me, just relentlessly badgering me for several months. Accidently-on-purpose sending me a letter that was addresssed to me, but written to the Ex, accusing that he gave her herpes. Well it all got to be too much.
There was so much written material found openly around in his car and in books, on our shared email accounts, letters from them and from him to them, that I started to see so much of how the Ex acted towards them. He said and did the exact same things to them that he had said and done to me. Exactly the same. Exactly the same.
That's when it felt so impersonal, all those words I thought he meant very personally. All those sentiments I felt very personally. I was just another face; those were just words out of a doll with a string that when pulled a recorded voice repeats over and over. They mean nothing to me. They are just the recording. I am just an anyonmous provider of whatever the Ex wanted.
FIRST LOVE. Now I know that First Love, all of his girlfriends and most recent wife, they were all very similar to me. Not in looks but in the way they are involved in theatre and like old-fashioned early 20s-40s songs, and fine art, sewing and crafts, and I'm a little bit of a hippy, and a lot new-ager. Even their birthdays were in the same month as mine.
So the way they all resemble me in that way, in my personal taste, this situation again makes me feel so impersonal. As if there is no such thing as true love. Just any number of interchangeable faces who meet First Love's needs at the moment.
I feel impersonal and used. As long as I brought no debt, have assets and ask only as much as they want to give, I'm fine, I'm managable. But they don't really care about me personally.
Why does that hurt so much? It does. To be treated like "The Giving Tree" by Shel Silverstein, one who provides but asks little in return. I don't like this life. This life of my worth being so impersonal, so little. I know its endemic in the world today. We each kill hundreds of insects with our cars every day, and eat scores of animals every week. We use and abuse without a thought of their lives.
I'm maudlin, aren't I? Yes, I am feeling very sorry for myself right now.
EX. Ex had a lot of affairs since 2004, there was at least one before we got married, that I forgave. I forgave. I forgave and forgot until recently. Then in 2004 there was another affair, that Ex told me about because he was afraid, she told him she was on the way to our house and was going to kill him and I. That was the first one that I know of while we were married.
Although there is that matter of finding a pair of very small panties in the dryer (maybe around 2002-3) once too. I had no idea where they came from. I saved them for evidence in case the Ex was ever accused of murder, then I'd have the evidence. I'm not joking, I believed he was capable of murder, serial murder even.
I don't mean to be flippant, I was really messed up while I was married to Ex. He is a kind and gentle person, he really has been for as long as I've known him. It's not as if he enjoys torturing little animals or anything, he's gentle in an impersonal way. It's just that he told me he had once been, sort of, a person of interest in a serial murder case. So that's why I wrote that. He was very angry that his father was so disloyal as to NOT tell the police that he thought the Ex was incapable of such acts.
Before I met Ex I was still in love with First Love. Had not gotten over him. Looked him up on-line to see if he resided in the last city I knew he moved to, and found his name with his wife's name in the phone book, so concluded he was still married and gave up on ever finding anyone I would ever love as much.
As a last ditch attempt to find someone to marry I posted an on-line ad and the first person who responded was Ex. That was around the anniversary of when First Love and I had a tramatic event, Dec 26-28 was that traumatic event. I met Ex on Dec 22, the day of his wife's birthday, I later learned.
It felt different from the beginning. It felt possible that we could have a real connection. I had been on lots of dates over the years, but only one came remotely close to marriage. Remotely.
So I'd given up hope, or maybe I had one last hope. One last hope that I pinned onto Ex.
Then in 2004 is when all the affairs started. Every time I knew one ended I thought "That's the last one." Until I heard myself say it so many times I finally laughed and realized, "Yes, it was only the last one, not the final one, but the most recent one." It was so humiliating. He told me once. "Five. Five just seems to be the right number [of people to date at one time]. It just works out best." That five did not include me. Of course the memory of that woman who threatened us with murder, always loomed like a sharpened pendulum over my head.
When a person thinks they are in love . . . I didn't know the characters of any of these women Ex dated, except I did know they were daing him even when they knew he was married. So I assumed they were desperate. I was worried that one of them might be capable of violence towards him or me. I felt unsafe in that way, and in other ways too. Maybe its just my imagination that people commit murder in the name of love, but anyway, its the stuff of gothic horror stories. It was a lot of confused and constant worry and hurt.
So finally when three of the Ex's girlfriends ganged up on me, phoning me, leaving stuff at the house, writing me, just relentlessly badgering me for several months. Accidently-on-purpose sending me a letter that was addresssed to me, but written to the Ex, accusing that he gave her herpes. Well it all got to be too much.
There was so much written material found openly around in his car and in books, on our shared email accounts, letters from them and from him to them, that I started to see so much of how the Ex acted towards them. He said and did the exact same things to them that he had said and done to me. Exactly the same. Exactly the same.
That's when it felt so impersonal, all those words I thought he meant very personally. All those sentiments I felt very personally. I was just another face; those were just words out of a doll with a string that when pulled a recorded voice repeats over and over. They mean nothing to me. They are just the recording. I am just an anyonmous provider of whatever the Ex wanted.
FIRST LOVE. Now I know that First Love, all of his girlfriends and most recent wife, they were all very similar to me. Not in looks but in the way they are involved in theatre and like old-fashioned early 20s-40s songs, and fine art, sewing and crafts, and I'm a little bit of a hippy, and a lot new-ager. Even their birthdays were in the same month as mine.
So the way they all resemble me in that way, in my personal taste, this situation again makes me feel so impersonal. As if there is no such thing as true love. Just any number of interchangeable faces who meet First Love's needs at the moment.
I feel impersonal and used. As long as I brought no debt, have assets and ask only as much as they want to give, I'm fine, I'm managable. But they don't really care about me personally.
Why does that hurt so much? It does. To be treated like "The Giving Tree" by Shel Silverstein, one who provides but asks little in return. I don't like this life. This life of my worth being so impersonal, so little. I know its endemic in the world today. We each kill hundreds of insects with our cars every day, and eat scores of animals every week. We use and abuse without a thought of their lives.
I'm maudlin, aren't I? Yes, I am feeling very sorry for myself right now.
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