that’s so ridiculous! i can’t even wrap my brain around the idea. and why me the worst? because i don’t beat around the bush? because i say what i mean? because i want what i want?
truth be told, i’m a pathetic OW. i couldn’t even seal the deal. couldn’t TAKE what i so desparately wanted. couldn’t “even the score.”
and why? NOT becuase i didn’t want Mister, Mister enough… but because I thought more of someone else than i did of myself/my needs.
if sacrificing MY NEEDS, for the good of someone else, makes me the WORST OW ever… than GUILTY AS CHARGED.
(but, hey, you’d at least think i’d have gotten some really hot, hot sex out of the deal… )
I’m losing it. no, really. I’m unhappy with the things that I should be happy with– and sad about the things that I should be grateful for. Pretty f*cked in the head, right?
I heard Sheryl Crow’s song on the car radio– the one about the secret to life being “not getting what you want, but wanting what you have.” I swear, I almost had to pull over to the side of the road and puke.
Maybe I’m just sick of life. I don’t really feel depressed, per se. But today, on my way home from work, I was a little spooked. I was driving a little fast (like 85mph FAST) while approaching a concrete divider that veers sharply to the left. Instinctively, I braked. At the same time, for a split second, I found myself wondering what it would be like to just hit the wall– FULL SPEED. To just be done with “things.” Honestly, that thought scared the living shit out of me– as in, where the hell did that thought come from?… and why?
It’s not a secret that I’ve never fully recovered from my husband’s infidelity. And, I’d be lying if I didn’t fully admit to wanting to “mess around” with an old boyfriend I crossed paths with last spring. You see, somewhere, in my screwed up head, I’d convinced myself that I had a “license to cheat.” And damn, if I didn’t try hard to use that “free pass” on Mister, Mister.
Then, last August, when things started to heat-up between us, I put the brakes on. Firmly. Told Mister, Mister some bullshit excuse about how much my husband loved me, and would do anything in the world for me. And I’m still not certain, to this day, WHY I stopped myself.
Well, ok, that’s not entirely true. What stopped me, most certainly, was the promise I had made to myself to NEVER hurt another female the way I’d been hurt. In other words, I didn’t want Mister, Mister’s wife to ever feel about her husband the way I feel about mine. I never wanted to be that woman who made her question her whole existence/world. That woman that made her sob herself to sleep at night. That woman that made her question her seemingly wonderful husband’s character till the day she died. That woman who made her think about crashing her car into a concrete highway block– on some random, f*cking hot day in early June– because her head was so messed up…
Yeah, that woman.
And yet, knowing all that– and having the clarity to write it all down– I still want her husband.
Master, Master e-mailed me early this morning telling me that he had secured tickets to a sporting event on Sunday. Even mentioned NOT to tell son.
In fact, just to be clear, here is his e-mail verbatim:
I think i may have secured <insert event name> Tickets for Sunday. I will let you know later. Don’t tell <insert son’s name>!
Now, I took this to mean that Master, Master secured tickets for us (and to keep it a secret from son so as not to make him jealous). However, I was mistaken…
[Conversation in kitchen upon Master, Master's return home from work this evening]
Master: I got two tickets for this Sunday’s event!
Contessa: I know, I got your e-mail, and I’m so excited to go!
Master: Ummm, I was thinking son and I would go…
Contessa: You’re kidding, right? Your e-mail said NOT to tell son.
Master: I wanted to surprise him. I didn’t think you’d WANT to go…
Contessa : So, you weren’t even planning on taking me? *crushed*
Master : Well, don’t get MAD AT ME!… YOU and son can go together. *huff, puff*
Contessa: Just forget it. Take son.
Master : I’ll purchase a third ticket so we can ALL go…
Movies and TV are good at making you want. making you dream of bigger things. putting notions into your head that such things are possible. Take love for instance. It’s been romanticized– and made bigger than life– in movies since before i was born. it makes us believe in extraordinary, fairytale love. in soulmate love. my one-and-only love.
We begin to imagine that such a love is possible. we begin to think in terms of “he/she is out there.” and, worse yet, for those of us with significant others, we may just examine our own loves and begin to think, “what’s wrong with my mate… where did i go wrong?”
I used to be a believer. Hell, not only was I a believer, I actually had convinced myself that I was living the “love that movies are made of.” Seemingly, we had it all– two wonderful kids (boy and girl)– 4 bedroom home in the suburbs, the Lexus and the Audi, well paying careers, an active sex life. BLISS from the word GO. so serenely happy. and then he goes and cheats with some 29-year-old soulmate from the office.
A second soulmate? a new THE ONE? this time it’s a “for real” extraordinary love– first try having been a terrible mistake. that first time, being me. the wife. the one that was living the “love movies are made of” life. remember me?
And this is why i begin to hate love stories. and why the term soulmate leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. and why i want to puke when I watch Grey’s Anatomy and they define Derek and Meredith’s love as EXTRAORDINARY.
And you know what? While it may seem that I’m blaming my husband for my disbelief, that I’m mad at him for making me a non-believer, it’s more like I’m mad at myself. for buying into the myth. for convincing myself that i had the movie love. for believing the fairytale…
It’s not what was spoken; it’s what went unsaid.
It’s not that you agreed; it’s that you failed to disagree.
It’s not that you couldn’t dream; it’s that you wouldn’t jump.
Speak to me– tongue ignited,
Fence with me– sharpened blade drawn,
Soar with me– clipped wings be damned. ~Contessa Confessa
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Mister, Mister, about me, hate, life, love, relationships | Tagged: cheating, guilty, guilty as charged, hot sex, infidelity, Mister, Mister, other woman, OW, slut sandbox, TOW, worst other woman | 
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Posted by Contessa Confessa
