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Exactly three years ago today, I wrote a post while I was pregnant about talking to Andrew about polyamory and how he brought up the topic of divorce for the very first time in our marriage. Today we are talking about separating. I asked him to leave for a few days. He is refusing. Three years of this shit. Why don’t I just leave? So many reasons.

He continually brings up the one night stand that I had last year, in his attempts to justify why he wants to know who I am with, what I am doing with my day. Part of me understands that he wants to share in my life. But when he asks me not to ‘party’ without him, it pisses me off. Party is pretty unclear, and open to interpretation. His interpretation of whatever he doesn’t feel comfortable with. 

He is also worried that I will have an emotional affair. Which means he wants to know all about all my friends, how much time I spend with them, what we talk about.

Oh, the irony. The worst thing he can imagine is already happening–I am fucking an amazing, complicated man who loves me and who I love. But this ‘worst thing’ is not hurting Andrew, because he doesn’t know about it. What is actually causing him pain is his fear that it or something like it will happen. And the irony of course is that his requests to know what I am doing etc. are actually founded, and if he knew he would leave me. But because he doesn’t know and because I continue to say that I would never, ever do something like that, his requests in the context of that reality are unreasonable. In the context of a marriage in which both people are committed to keeping the marriage going and still being individual people, having space and freedom with friendships and time is part of how things work.

The irony is also that his fears, his desire to control me, my reaction to it, my acceptance of it and his viewpoints as ‘right’ for so long have all contributed to my desire for lovers, my attempt at open marriage, and my cheating now.

So why do I want the marriage? We are in many ways a good match. We are comfortable together. We know each other. We have kids together, and it is easier to parent them and live day to day life in a shared environment. There is love between us, and I feel connected to him. 

I am also scared, though not as much as I used to be, about finances and my ability to live on my own, and loneliness and lack of companionship. But I am at the point now where I am willing to make the step and give those things up.

I am also scared of his treatment of me if we are divorced. He does a lot for me now because he wants to be with me, but he can be very moody and he is very smart and can be very legalistic. I am afraid that he will hate me, that we won’t be able to be friends. We have been married for a long time. He’s one of the few people I can get mad at. I am more afraid of rejection than I think. 

I am very adaptable. This is partly why even though I am a strong person, the dynamic in the marriage has become so unhealthy. I see what people want, and I accommodate them, often to the effacement of my own true self expression. This is not sustainable over time. Even with my closest friends, I don’t feel I can display my truly negative emotions.

So does being close to someone mean that they get to see the worst side of you? Unfortunately. Because that’s when you know someone really loves you, right? When they see the worst, and they still love you. When I secure enough to express that I am angry with someone, I feel that I have a real relationship with them.

With my current lover, I often still wonder what he wants. I try to fit myself to him. I see myself doing this, and it worries me. But I don’t necessarily know how to stop. I know that the problem with divorce is that whatever the unhealthy dynamic was in one relationship will probably be repeated in the next, unless you address your own shit that helped create that dynamic.

There is no question of my lover and I being anything other than lovers, and honestly, if I was to get divorced, I don’t know if I’d want anyone to live with me. Especially with my kids, it gets complicated. But even without kids. I think if I was ever to live with someone else, it would have to be with the understanding that nothing is permanent. Big words, but maybe hard to live by. I do believe love can last forever, but situations change. Sometimes to keep love alive, you have to say goodbye to a certain arrangement, or even goodbye to each other for a while.

One of the main reasons I am not saying goodbye to Andrew is that we have plans for the next year together that I don’t want to give up. I know it sounds superficial, but it’s true. And if I give up those plans, I may also not get to be with my lover. And my work is unstable, and next year I will have a better idea of what the next few years for me will look like financially. Maybe not the most loving reasons to stay together, but I figure, the more time I give the relationship, the more chance something workable for me will settle out.

In the meantime, I have to figure out how to live a dual life and hold onto the real truths at the same time. The truths of who I am and what I value and what this means to me. The truths of each relationship I am in. The truths of creating my own ethics and my own values, so that I can live a life that is right and true to myself, in the fullest expression of who I am.







I started this blog without having read “A Room of One’s Own.” I had a general idea it was by Virginia Woolf, feminist, and about women, writing, countering cultural expectations, and the need for space. I am now writing this blog post without having seen the movie ‘Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?”

So I am now reading ‘A Room of One’s Own.’

I am also actively cheating on my husband. A few years ago, I wanted an open marriage. I wanted to find a way to meet the needs that I feel without breaking the bonds of family we have created.

A few months ago, Andrew consented to a threesome with a woman friend of ours. With his need for sexual boundaries and control, it was a bit of a nightmare. I couldn’t do this, she couldn’t do that, she and I couldn’t be together when he wasn’t there. Nightmare. After a few weeks of craziness, I realized that no matter how much I try to convince him to have an open marriage, even if he was to say yes there will always be these rules, and there will never really be the freedom I want. So I decided to give up on open marriage, and look cheating in the eye.

I wanted the path of honesty–this would be better. But the path of honesty now would require me to break this marriage, which I don’t want to do for so many reasons, pragmatic and romantic.

I have fought, hard, for the right to have my own space. I have a job now. I take time for myself.

But I made one big mistake–before the threesome, I had a one night stand, and despite my intentions to never tell anyone, I told Andrew a few days later. If I hadn’t told him he wouldn’t have known, and he wouldn’t be so suspicious now of the time I take for myself. Some of that time is legitimately me time–some of it I am spending with lovers.

Sweet, sweet lovers.

I have discovered one thing for sure about cheating: it takes a lot of work. Mental energy is required to think of what I am going to say I was doing, since I can’t say what I was actually doing, which is fucking a lover. I need to be sure I have a good excuse to hop in the shower when I get home, so I don’t smell like sex. I have to keep an eye on the time, and not leave things lying around in my purse or the car that might give me away.

Cheating is not quite as spontaneous as I had hoped. This is due in part to the fact that Andrew is accustomed to knowing what I am up to, and partly to the fact that he doesn’t want me out at night, and that he has asked me not to go to bars & clubs, and gets anxious about that. Also, he wants to know what food I’ve eaten, and etc. etc. All these silken threads that tie me down.

But, the fucking is glorious. And wanting to be fucked is glorious. I am glorying in being a slut. A selective slut–I had sex with someone I felt unsure about a while ago, and I don’t want to do that again.

My body is MY BODY. It’s strange how we moved from women as men’s property, therefore women weren’t allowed to have sex with people other than their husbands but men were allowed to have sex with whoever they wanted, to both genders as the other’s property, so now if I am ‘committed’ to someone, their body belongs to me and I get to say they can’t have sex with anyone else. Why? How does this really affect me, in any way?

Historically, it had to do with pregnancy. A man wanted to be sure the baby was his own. Women are powerful that way–we can grow a baby and you’ll never really know if it’s your DNA. Very scary for men.

But now? Men can’t have babies. And women have birth control. Babies are essentially out of the picture. What makes us believe that having sex with only one person at a time is morally right? Morally required for a successful relationship?

The only thing I can come up with is tradition. And tradition is usually not kind to women.

I want to have sex, lots of it with lots of different people that I connect with. This desire has nothing to do with my value, worth, goodness as a person.

I’m trying to figure out the lying piece. I wish I could find another way, but I can’t. As long as the lying doesn’t get too stressful for me, I will keep doing it. My life is becoming a work of fiction, where the facts never happened but the truth is still there.

What the fuck? I was supposed to go out for lunch with my husband, our first date in seven months, and now he says he doesn’t want to go.

Our one year old daughter has been making strange with everyone since she was 5 months old, and just recently has gotten comfortable with other people. My in laws are visiting, she warmed up to them right away, and they are happy to babysit her while we go out. So yesterday we arranged that we would go out for lunch today. But my husband has been in a bad mood since last night, claiming tiredness, which very well may be, but other people in this house are tired and have gotten little sleep too. Fucking bastard.

I know he’s being moody and withdrawn because his parents are visiting – they inevitably affect him this way. The irony is that he has actually been able to sleep in since they looked after the kids this morning, and since I got up with the kids yesterday morning. We both woke up in the night to look after the kids last night and the night before, and I’m pregnant, so I’m just as sleep deprived, if not more, than him. He’s such a jerk.

He won’t talk to me either. Just says, “I don’t want to talk about it, leave me alone.” I am so done with trying to make this marriage work. What does he think this date was about? Being in the greatest mood ever? Not possible with two young kids. He also claims he is not hungry. Give me a break. This date is not about food. It’s about us spending time alone together out of the house for the first time in over 7 months.

I can’t handle this withdrawn behaviour on top of everything else. If he’s not going to take a prime opportunity for us to try to add at least a little romance back into our lives, I don’t know where we’re going. But here’s the kicker – I feel that I can’t leave him because I’m pregnant and have two little kids. Wouldn’t I just be the stupidest person on the earth to leave now? Plus, I need someone to physically help me with tasks, since I am easily injured when I am pregnant. But I hate living in this apathy zone. But if I try to bring anything up then our house is just full of conflict. And then it’s my fault because I brought it up, not because there’s actually a problem! Fucking hell.

I know I haven’t been easy to live with lately because of my physical limitations due to pregnancy, my tiredness due to pregnancy, and my depression due to pregnancy. But come on. Our first chance to go out and do something slightly fun just the two of us and he’s brushing it off? Cancelling? I really don’t see any love between us right now. And this may be the final blow.

I wish I had more time and privacy to write. There are so many things I need to say.

Right now I am in the midst of wondering if I love my husband. What does it mean to love someone? I remember being in love. It was fantastic. A fairy tale come true. Thrilling, absorbing, exciting, enchanting. Those first few months I was in a different world.

Two kids and halfway through a third pregnancy later, there are none of those emotions left, none of the newness, the discovery, the romance, the passion. I know this is not unusual; there’s a reason a lot of people get divorced but stay friends. And of course, along with the lack of all the good stuff are the glaringly obvious faults my husband has. Faults I did not anticipate back in fairy tale land.

I know we’re all human and therefore flawed. But it’s these particular flaws that I’m finding so hard to live with. And I wonder; if I can’t accept him for who he is, if I can barely scrounge up a particle of appreciation for him most days, then do I really love him? What does it mean to love someone when the feelings are gone? When you don’t really enjoy spending time with him anymore? When it seems like our life together is all drudgery and boredom and conflict?

There are good moments. But I feel like these are merely shadows of how things used to be. Does loving him mean that I simply endure? Or is that not really loving him but just saving our life together? Because I think there is a difference between just going about your business together, even if you feel unhappy or lonely, and actually loving each other, being loving.

I haven’t felt lonely since I met him, but for the first time I am starting to feel lonely again. He says I am chronically discontent, and that may be true. But I don’t feel understood, and it doesn’t seem like he wants to understand me. We had a very large disagreement about polyamory a while ago. I was theoretically exploring the concept, and he basically rejected me in an extremely self-righteous, religious way. He put divorce on the table, which I found extremely ridiculous, considering that polyamory is the concept of being able to have many loves at one time, whether that be just emotionally intimate relationships or sexually intimate as well. Polyamory attempts to preserve relationships, recognizing that jealousy and ownership are not actually part of love, while divorce is simply breaking relationship.

I think I started exploring this concept because I feel bored with our relationship, and I want the excitement of meeting someone new. I don’t find much of anything fun anymore, but I’ve always found it exciting to meet new people. I feel a lack of community, as my husband is not particularly social and we don’t ever do anything together with other families. I spend time with my friends alone or with my kids, but it’s not the same. Our family spends a lot of time in the house together by ourselves, and it drives me insane. Obviously, my husband is not bothered by this in the same way that I am.

I wonder if I am mildly depressed, due to winter, pregnancy, and isolation. I fantasize about running away to somewhere warm, but then I realize I couldn’t leave the kids, and then I realize that I can’t take care of them by myself right now, as I am pregnant and can’t lift anything heavy, like a toddler, and then I just feel trapped and…depressed.

I think about leaving my husband when I get tired of how controlling he is, how easily offended he is, how difficult it is to talk to him about anything that matters, how he doesn’t make any effort to improve our marriage, how he works all the time, how he judges me, how he nags me, how he resists me. But then I don’t know what I will do for money, as I don’t want to put the kids in daycare, and I don’t know how I will take care of the kids by myself. Plus, he is a good dad who spends time with his kids, even if he sometimes too harsh, and I don’t think it’s good for kids to be separated from their dad. But I also don’t think it’s good for kids to have an unhappy mom and have their parents in an unhappy relationship. Although my husband probably doesn’t think we’re unhappy.

I don’t like bringing this stuff up with him because it’s always me that sees the problems therefore (according to his logic) I must have the problem.  But I’m seriously getting tired of this lack of passion, this lack of love between us. I don’t feel cared for. I don’t know if he feels cared for by me, but I certainly don’t feel caring.

And I especially don’t feel that he has a proper sense of amazement or awe or wonder for me being pregnant. I am creating life. I am providing space for life to grow. In particular, for his offspring. I have done this twice already, and he loves his kids. But he doesn’t seem to get it that I am the one making it possible for him to be a dad. And that it’s a big sacrifice. My body is literally taken over. Everything changes, from the hormones coursing through me twenty four hours a day to my blood volume to the shape of my body to the aches and pains I feel to my nutritional needs. He doesn’t say “yes dear” or the equivalent. Everything has to be a conflict. Everything has to be a negotiation, an explanation. It pisses me off. I should get carte blanch if I want to drink the expensive orange juice or feel upset about nothing.

I know it’s hard for him to have me tired and not capable of doing what I normally can, but he also doesn’t understand what it’s like to be stuck at home all day with the kids with no vehicle, in the winter, pregnant, tired, and grouchy. Taking care of kids is physical labour, and it wears me out, not to mention how emotionally draining and mentally unstimulating it is.

Anyway, I don’t have much more time to write. Gotta take care of the kids.

So, do I love my husband? I don’t know. I don’t even know what love is. I know it’s not always a feeling, but man, it sure seems like it should be.

I am starting this blog because I need a place to write that is totally anonymous.  A written journal could be found – I’m hoping there is no way to connect this blog with me.

I am prone to censorship. To censoring myself, even when writing in a journal, because what if someone finds it someday? I have all sorts of ideas for fiction writing, but I am afraid of what those close to me would think. Particularly my husband. He is easily offended and does not want anything that could be perceived as negative about himself published.

So here, on this blog, for all the world to see, I will reveal my secret thoughts, things about me that only I know.  You will come to know me and my family, but I will keep the details vague.

I think in some ways we all need a pseudonym of our own, but especially women. Although we live in an era that allows great personal freedom, societal expectations and norms can be very constricting. It takes great courage to say what you really think and feel, or even to discover what you really think and feel.

This is my place of discovery.