Being in good company could also soman going to watch a movie or some tv, though my taste in filmtv may be odd for some (think foreign animation). I'm young and in best shape.
|Relationship Status:||Not married|
|Seeking:||I Am Wants Sex Meeting|
|Relation Type:||Looking For Cool And Fit Lady Friends|
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If you are involved with a married person and reading this, chances are that you have already gone through the initial stage of infatuation and blinding bliss. In this initial stage you have not wanted to think too deeply about the realities you have been creating in your life by pursuing this relationship.
But as things progress and the honeymoon period wears off, you start to have questions. You bring them up to you lover, but most likely come away with answers that leave you only partially or not at all satisfied.
Here are some examples of questions that individuals in this situation find themselves asking. The strangeness of the situation cannot help but make you wonder what you really mean to your affair partner. Getting these answers can become more and more important as you become more involved and possibly obsessed with your lover. Rona Subotnik illuminates a list of paradoxical realities that you may find yourself living with as the other person.
Here is my version of her findings: If you were just your ordinary every day self, the way the spouse is, would they still treasure you? However, as time goes by they become one of the few people, or only person, even, that you can be emotionally intimate with because you are reluctant to share what is going on with with family and friends.
These family members and friends can probably sense that you are closed off emotionally, and can become confused and discouraged about your relationship to them. You might sense this, yet are afraid it would cause more damage to the relationship if they knew. Your sense of intimacy with your lover can seem more intense when they become one of the few people, or only person, you can really talk to.
You may find yourself forgoing activities that you used to enjoy that might make you unavailable to your affair partner should they suddenly have time to see you. You may become aware that your world has narrowed greatly. You know you are participating in something that is potentially damaging to many people and that there could be repercussions for yourself.
You may find yourself trying to maintain the sense of safety by trying not to think about these realities. Self-righteous, yet guilty You tell yourself you deserve to be happy, that you are making them happy.
You may even tell yourself you are helping them to be a better spouse by the love and comfort you provide. However, deep down, you cannot help but know you have made a choice to participate in something that can result in devastation for any number of people. Powerful, yet powerless You may feel very powerful in your ability to attract someone who is married, powerful enough to cause them to betray their spouse and family.
Yet as time goes on, it might become apparent to you that you frequently feel powerless. You may find yourself stood up when various situations arise with their family that prevent them from keeping dates. When the full reality begins to hit home, it can be a painful and frightening time.
Deep issues can surface, issues that, in the end, have to do with your relationship to yourself more than anyone else. If talking to your lover is making it worse, it is important to break your isolation by finding someone who you can trust to talk to. Therapy can be very helpful at this point. Lost Child, thank you for your post. My husband cheated on me after 25 years of marriage.
The OW knew our family very well as she once was our next door neighbor. Anyway, I have two teenage daughters, and I was so sickened by the possible short and long-term effects this would have on them. My husband has broke all contact, and we are working on our marriage. Oh, and one more note, the OW in my situation is divorced because her ex cheated on her according to her ; and she had two teenage girls at the time.
Can I ask all of you out there, what woman causes this much pain to another woman and her girls, when you know the pain yourself? To the adults who cheat….. I am the damage that no one thinks about while indulging in selfish pleasure. My sister is the product of the actions that destroyed our family. So while you are all out there unable to control your urges like a dog in heat, remember that their are children out there who know more than you think and they are the ones who pay the ultimate price.
Even now that I am married to someone who loves my deeply and swears should never hurt me, i internally panic when a text is sent or they step outside to talk on the phone. Every day I battle anxiety and fear of abandonment and have to fight to overcome my urge to read every text and facebook message and hear every phone conversation.
So the next time you reach out to your lover, remember that your child or their child knows what you are doing and know that you are creating unforgivable damage. You, the other woman, have a lot of self pity and a sense of lost values.
Yet you are given free will to choose to say no, no matter what these men tell you. Alright, it happened the first time, but why continue? Because you are right to say they have cheated before, and will charm you to the end to get what they want, and telling you what you need to have sex. My man cheated on his first wife and then killed the other woman. I met him twenty years later and married him not knowing too much about his background.
If I had known I would not have married him. I took the cell phone away from my so-called husband, and got him into individual counseling. He has since left his job, or they fired him. He has put a limit on who he comes in contact with. My message… get out run and do not look back. Do whatever is necessary to leave that type of relationship.
Not only do you all deserve better but you should have confidence in yourselves. This is a true story. The first wife divorced him behind bars the other woman ended up six feet under by his hands alone. I was still trying to reconcile but then filed for divorce as his behavior has developed again with another woman.
I was in a bad relationship previously, and he unexpectedly became a rock for me, and it escalated from there. His wife also seems to be on the emotionally abusive side, and I think I helped him cope with that, at least at first. I also lost my virginity to him, and that admittedly makes it harder for me. A couple months ago a female co-worker of mine showed me messages he sent her on Facebook, basically asking her to be his secret girlfriend, just like he had asked me.
What right do I have anyway? My co-worker was better than me though, and turned him down. My husband currently left me for another woman he was having an affair with. I tried to talk to him about it but he would get angry and turn it all around on me. I guess I should of tried harder. Regardless, he ran away like a coward into the arms of another woman. I am willing to work on this marriage but he claims he is happy where he is at. I and my two kids are devastated. He is living in a fantasy world with this woman who has only been divorced for three months and who has two small children in her house.
It makes me sick to my stomach. His family and his friends have all supported me immensely and are furious about his decision to leave his family. This home wrecker will never be accepted anywhere in the family and it is likely that the relationship will not last longer than a few months. Check out the stats. He will have to live with the pain and the misery that he has caused the family for the rest of his life and will be all alone.
I just want to say … I love you all for your courage, bravery, all the steps you have taken to change your lives! Yes that is the way I saw it. After 5 physically abusive relationships,! I am not his first affair. Need I say anymore? It has only been the last few months that I have realized what a lying, cheating dirty rat he is. And that I deserve to be back out there having fun. Well, the most important lesson I learned from this was that I had allowed myself to be abused again in a different way.
And I was going to cause his partner and family pain if i carried on with this lie. Need a bit of a sleep in until we realize that life is passing us by too swiftly. We hardly go anywhere. Oh no, you become a show pony. We have a bit of an argument of late over lies he has told me. Now he is absolutely begging to see me. I have made a choice to dump him … but only at a point where he is feeling safe.
I totally understand, how women that are cheated on feel because some of us mistresses end up feeling the same. You, as wives, and those men are responsible too. I have from the beginning asked my man to go home to his wife and ask about her needs and share his with her too. It definitely will be over soon! Just a note… we both believed our love was blessed by Angels.
Undoubtedly, when Angels send you a lesson they send it with their love and their blessings. May you all receive the love and comfort you need. My husband had an affair with a woman who had previously been married and had had an affair while married./p>
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Call me and love to talk! Several men were present, their white shirts showing in the gloom, their dark faces invisible. They were sitting on a great log of smooth old wood, that lay along the far wall.
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The woman looked round. Four old men with grey hair sat on the log by the wall facing the door. Two other men, powerful and impassive, stood near the door. They all had long hair, and wore white shirts gathered into a loin-cloth.
Their powerful legs were naked and dark. There was a silence like eternity. At length the man returned, with white and dark clothing on his arm. The young Indian took them, and holding them in front of the woman, said:.
He looked at the two men by the door. They came quickly forward, and suddenly gripped her arms as she stood, without hurting her, but with great power. Then two of the old men came, and with curious skill slit her boots down with keen knives, and drew them off, and slit her clothing so that it came away from her.
In a few moments she stood there white and uncovered. The old man on the bed spoke, and they turned her round for him to see. He spoke again, and the young Indian deftly took the pins and comb from her fair hair, so that it fell over her shoulders in a bunchy tangle. Then the old man spoke again.
The Indian led her to the bedside. The white-haired, glassy-dark old man moistened his finger-tips at his mouth, and most delicately touched her on the breasts and on the body, then on the back. And she winced strangely each time, as the fingertips drew along her skin, as if Death itself were touching her.
And she wondered, almost sadly, why she did not feel shamed in her nakedness. She only felt sad and lost. Because nobody felt ashamed. The elder men were all dark and tense with some other deep, gloomy, incomprehensible emotion, which suspended all her agitation, while the young Indian had a strange look of ecstasy on his face.
And she, she was only utterly strange and beyond herself, as if her body were not her own. They gave her the new clothing: It was fastened over one shoulder only, and belted with a braid sash of scarlet and black wool. When she was thus dressed, they took her away, barefoot, to a little house in the stockaded garden.
The young Indian told her she might have what she wanted. She asked for water to wash herself. He brought it in a jar, together with a long wooden bowl.
Then he fastened the gate-door of her house, and left her a prisoner. She could see through the bars of the gate-door of her house, the red flowers of the garden, and a humming bird. Then from the roof of the big house she heard the long, heavy sound of a drum, unearthly to her in its summons, and an uplifted voice calling from the house-top in a strange language, with a far-away emotionless intonation, delivering some speech or message.
And she listened as if from the dead. But she was very tired. She lay down on a couch of skins, pulling over her the blanket of dark wool, and she slept, giving up everything. When she woke it was late afternoon, and the young Indian was entering with a basket-tray containing food, tortillas and corn-mush with bits of meat, probably mutton, and a drink made of honey, and some fresh plums. He brought her also a long garland of red and yellow flowers with knots of blue buds at the end.
He sprinkled the garland with water from a jar, then offered it to her, with a smile. He seemed very gentle and thoughtful, and on his face and in his dark eyes was a curious look of triumph and ecstasy, that frightened her a little. The glitter had gone from the black eyes, with their curving dark lashes, and he would look at her with this strange soft glow of ecstasy that was not quite human, and terribly impersonal, and which made her uneasy. She sipped the liquor curiously.
It was made with herbs and sweetened with honey, and had a strange, lingering flavour. The young man watched her with gratification. Then he went away. And presently she began to be sick, and to vomit violently, as if she had no control over herself. Afterwards she felt a great soothing languor steal over her, her limbs felt strong and loose and full of languor, and she lay on her couch listening to the sounds of the village, watching the yellowing sky, smelling the scent of burning cedar-wood, or pine-wood.
So distinctly she heard the yapping of tiny dogs, the shuffle of far-off feet, the murmur of voices, so keenly she detected the smell of smoke, and flowers, and evening falling, so vividly she saw the one bright star infinitely remote, stirring above the sunset, that she felt as if all her senses were diffused on the air, that she could distinguish the sound of evening flowers unfolding, and the actual crystal sound of the heavens, as the vast belts of the world-atmosphere slid past one another, and as if the moisture ascending and the moisture descending in the air resounded like some harp in the cosmos.
She was a prisoner in her house and in the stockaded garden, but she scarcely minded. And it was days before she realised that she never saw another woman. Only the men, the elderly men of the big house, that she imagined must be some sort of temple, and the men priests of some sort. For they always had the same colours, red, orange, yellow, and black, and the same grave, abstracted demeanour. Sometimes an old man would come and sit in her room with her, in absolute silence.
None spoke any language but Indian, save the one younger man. The older men would smile at her, and sit with her for an hour at a time, sometimes smiling at her when she spoke in Spanish, but never answering save with this slow, benevolent-seeming smile. And they gave off a feeling of almost fatherly solicitude.
Yet their dark eyes, brooding over her, had something away in their depths that was awesomely ferocious and relentless. They would cover it with a smile, at once, if they felt her looking. But she had seen it. Always they treated her with this curious impersonal solicitude, this utterly impersonal gentleness, as an old man treats a child. But underneath it she felt there was something else, something terrible. When her old visitor had gone away, in his silent, insidious, fatherly fashion, a shock of fear would come over her; though of what she knew not.
The young Indian would sit and talk with her freely, as if with great candour. But with him, too, she felt that everything real was unsaid. Perhaps it was unspeakable. His big dark eyes would rest on her almost cherishingly, touched with ecstasy, and his beautiful, slow, languorous voice would trail out its simple, ungrammatical Spanish. He told her he was the grandson of the old, old man, son of the man in the spotted sarape: But he himself had been in Mexico City, and also in the United States.
He had worked as a labourer, building the roads in Los Angeles. He had travelled as far as Chicago. His eyes rested on her with a curious look of duplicity and conflict, and he mutely shook his head. I am the only one who has been away from here for a long time.
The others come back soon, in one week. They don't stay away. The old men don't let them. But she felt that this was perhaps just the effect of his Spanish. Or perhaps speech altogether was unreal to him. Anyhow, she felt that all the real things were kept back.
He came and sat with her a good deal--sometimes more than she wished--as if he wanted to be near her. She asked him if he was married. He said he was--with two children. But he answered only with that smile, a sweet, almost ecstatic smile above which the dark eyes hardly changed from their enigmatic abstraction.
It was curious, he would sit with her by the hour, without even making her self-conscious, or sex-conscious. He seemed to have no sex, as he sat there so still and gentle and apparently submissive, with his head bent a little forward, and the river of glistening black hair streaming maidenly over his shoulders. Yet when she looked again, she saw his shoulders broad and powerful, his eyebrows black and level, the short, curved, obstinate black lashes over his lowered eyes, the small, fur-like line of moustache above his blackish, heavy lips, and the strong chin, and she knew that in some other mysterious way he was darkly and powerfully male.
And he, feeling her watching him, would glance up at her swiftly with a dark, lurking look in his eyes, which immediately he veiled with that half-sad smile. The days and the weeks went by, in a vague kind of contentment. She was uneasy sometimes, feeling she had lost the power over herself. She was not in her own power, she was under the spell of some other control.
And at times she had moments of terror and horror. But then these Indians would come and sit with her, casting their insidious spell over her by their very silent presence, their silent, sexless, powerful physical presence. As they sat they seemed to take her will away, leaving her will-less and victim to her own indifference. And the young man would bring her sweetened drink, often the same emetic drink, but sometimes other kinds. And after drinking, the languor filled her heavy limbs, her senses seemed to float in the air, listening, hearing.
They had brought her a little female dog, which she called Flora. And once, in the trance of her senses, she felt she heard the little dog conceive, in her tiny womb, and begin to be complex, with young. And another day she could hear the vast sound of the earth going round, like some immense arrow-string booming. But as the days grew shorter and colder, when she was cold, she would get a sudden revival of her will, and a desire to go out, to go away.
And she insisted to the young man, she wanted to go out. So one day, they let her climb to the topmost roof of the big house where she was, and look down the square. It was the day of the big dance, but not everybody was dancing. Women with babies in their arms stood in their doorways, watching. Opposite, at the other end of the square, there was a throng before the other big house, and a small, brilliant group on the terrace-roof of the first storey, in front of wide open doors of the upper storey.
Through these wide open doors she could see fire glinting in darkness and priests in headdresses of black and yellow and scarlet feathers, wearing robe-like blankets of black and red and yellow, with long green fringes, were moving about. A big drum was beating slowly and regularly, in the dense, Indian silence. The crowd below waited Then a drum started on a high beat, and there came the deep, powerful burst of men singing a heavy, savage music, like a wind roaring in some timeless forest, many mature men singing in one breath, like the wind; and long lines of dancers walked out from under the big house.
Men with naked, golden-bronze bodies and streaming black hair, tufts of red and yellow feathers on their arms, and kilts of white frieze with a bar of heavy red and black and green embroidery round their waists, bending slightly forward and stamping the earth in their absorbed, monotonous stamp of the dance, a fox-fur, hung by the nose from their belt behind, swaying with the sumptuous swaying of a beautiful fox-fur, the tip of the tail writhing above the dancer's heels. And after each man, a woman with a strange elaborate headdress of feathers and seashells, and wearing a short black tunic, moving erect, holding up tufts of feathers in each hand, swaying her wrists rhythmically and subtly beating the earth with her bare feet.
So, the long line of the dance unfurling from the big house opposite. And from the big house beneath her, strange scent of incense, strange tense silence, then the answering burst of inhuman male singing, and the long line of the dance unfurling. It went on all day, the insistence of the drum, the cavernous, roaring, storm-like sound of male singing, the incessant swinging of the fox-skins behind the powerful, gold-bronze, stamping legs of the men, the autumn sun from a perfect blue heaven pouring on the rivers of black hair, men's and women's, the valley all still, the walls of rock beyond, the awful huge bulking of the mountain against the pure sky, its snow seething with sheer whiteness.
For hours and hours she watched, spell-bound, and as if drugged. And in all the terrible persistence of the drumming and the primeval, rushing deep singing, and the endless stamping of the dance of fox-tailed men, the tread of heavy, bird-erect women in their black tunics, she seemed at last to feel her own death; her own obliteration.
As if she were to be obliterated from the field of life again. In the strange towering symbols on the heads of the changeless, absorbed women she seemed to read once more the Mene Mene Tekel Upharsin. Her kind of womanhood, intensely personal and individual, was to be obliterated again, and the great primeval symbols were to tower once more over the fallen individual independence of woman.
The sharpness and the quivering nervous consciousness of the highly-bred white woman was to be destroyed again, womanhood was to be cast once more into the great stream of impersonal sex and impersonal passion. Strangely, as if clairvoyant, she saw the immense sacrifice prepared. And she went back to her little house in a trance of agony. After this, there was always a certain agony when she heard the drums at evening, and the strange uplifted savage sound of men singing round the drum, like wild creatures howling to the invisible gods of the moon and the vanished sun.
Something of the chuckling, sobbing-cry of the coyote, something of the exultant bark of the fox, the far-off wild melancholy exultance of the howling wolf, the torment of the puma's scream, and the insistence of the ancient fierce human male, with his lapses of tenderness and his abiding ferocity. Sometimes she would climb the high roof after nightfall, and listen to the dim cluster of young men round the drum on the bridge just beyond the square, singing by the hour.
Sometimes there would be a fire, and in the fire-glow, men in their white shirts or naked save for a loin-cloth, would be dancing and stamping like spectres, hour after hour in the dark cold air, within the fire-glow, forever dancing and stamping like turkeys, or dropping squatting by the fire to rest, throwing their blankets round them.
And the women have black tunics? He looked into her eyes, curiously, and the faint, evasive smile came on to his face. Behind the smile lay a soft, strange malignancy. They are like children, always with toys. We know the sun, and we know the moon. And we say, when a white woman sacrifice herself to our gods, then our gods will begin to make the world again, and the white man's gods will fall to pieces.
And the man all the time have to keep the sun happy in his side of the sky, and the woman have to keep the moon quiet at her side of the sky. All the time she have to work at this. And the sun can't ever go into the house of the moon, and the moon can't ever go into the house of the sun, in the sky.
So the woman, she asks the moon to come into her cave, inside her. And the man, he draws the sun down till he has the power of the sun. All the time he do this. Then when the man gets a woman, the sun goes into the cave of the moon, and that is how everything in the world starts. She listened, watching him closely, as one enemy watches another who is speaking with double meaning.
But they can't keep him--they don't know how. They got him, but they don't know what to do with him, like a boy who catch a big grizzly bear, and can't kill him, and can't run away from him. The grizzly bear eats the boy that catch him, when he want to run away from him. White men don't know what they are doing with the sun, and white women don't know what they do with the moon.
The moon she got angry with white women, like a puma when someone kills her little ones. The moon, she bites white women--here inside," and he pressed his side. The Indian, can see it--And soon," he added, "the Indian women get the moon back and keep her quiet in their house.
And the Indian men get the sun, and the power over all the world. White men don't know what the sun is. Winter had now come, in the high valley, with snow that melted in the day's sun, and nights that were bitter cold. She lived on, in a kind of daze, feeling her power ebbing more and more away from her, as if her will were leaving her. She felt always in the same relaxed, confused, victimised state, unless the sweetened herb drink would numb her mind altogether, and release her senses into a sort of heightened, mystic acuteness and a feeling as if she were diffusing out deliciously into the harmony of things.
This at length became the only state of consciousness she really recognised: Then she could actually hear the great stars in heaven, which she saw through her door, speaking from their motion and brightness, saying things perfectly to the cosmos, as they trod in perfect ripples, like bells on the floor of heaven, passing one another and grouping in the timeless dance, with the spaces of dark between. And she could hear the snow on a cold, cloudy day twittering and faintly whistling in the sky, like birds that flock and fly away in autumn, suddenly calling farewell to the invisible moon, and slipping out of the plains of the air, releasing peaceful warmth.
She herself would call to the arrested snow to fall from the upper air. She would call to the unseen moon to cease to be angry, to make peace again with the unseen sun like a woman who ceases to be angry in her house. And she would smell the sweetness of the moon relaxing to the sun in the wintry heaven, when the snow fell in a faint, cold-perfumed relaxation, as the peace of the sun mingled again in a sort of unison with the peace of the moon.
She was aware too of the sort of shadow that was on the Indians of the valley, a deep, stoical disconsolation, almost religious in its depth. But he is wild with us, and shy like a horse that has got away. We have to go through a lot. And she, as if bewitched, replied:. She felt she was drifting on some consummation, which she had no will to avoid, yet which seemed heavy and finally terrible to her. It must have been almost December, for the days were short, when she was taken again before the aged man, and stripped of her clothing, and touched with the old finger-tips.
The aged cacique looked her in the eyes, with his eyes of lonely, far-off, black intentness, and murmured something to her. She was fascinated by the black, glass-like, intent eyes of the old cacique, that watched her without blinking, like a basilisk's, overpowering her.
In their depths also she saw a certain fatherly compassion, and pleading. She put her hand before her face, in the required manner, making the sign of peace and farewell. He made the sign of peace back again to her, then sank among his furs.
She thought he was going to die, and that he knew it. There followed a day of ceremonial, when she was brought out before all the people, in a blue blanket with white fringe, and holding blue feathers in her hands. Before an altar of one house, she was perfumed with incense and sprinkled with ash. Before the altar of the opposite house she was fumigated again with incense by the gorgeous, terrifying priests in yellow and scarlet and black, their faces painted with scarlet paint.
And then they threw water on her. Meanwhile she was faintly aware of the fire on the altar, the heavy, heavy sound of a drum, the heavy sound of men beginning powerfully, deeply, savagely to sing, the swaying of the crowd of faces in the plaza below, and the formation for a sacred dance. But at this time her commonplace consciousness was numb, she was aware of her immediate surroundings as shadows, almost immaterial.
With refined and heightened senses she could hear the sound of the earth winging on its journey, like a shot arrow, the ripple-rustling of the air, and the boom of the great arrow-string. And it seemed to her there were two great influences in the upper air, one golden towards the sun, and one invisible silver; the first travelling like rain ascending to the gold presence sunwards, the second like rain silverily descending the ladders of space towards the hovering, lurking clouds over the snowy mountain-top.
Then between them, another presence, waiting to shake himself free of moisture, of heavy white snow that had mysteriously collected about him. And in summer, like a scorched eagle, he would wait to shake himself clear of the weight of heavy sunbeams.
And he was coloured like fire. And he was always shaking himself clear, of snow or of heavy heat, like an eagle rustling. Then there was a still stranger presence, standing watching from the blue distance, always watching. Sometimes running in upon the wind, or shimmering in the heat-waves.
The blue wind itself, rushing as it were out of the holes in the earth into the sky, rushing out of the sky down upon the earth. The blue wind, the go-between, the invisible ghost that belonged to two worlds, that played upon the ascending and the descending chords of the rains.
More and more her ordinary personal consciousness had left her, she had gone into that other state of passional cosmic consciousness, like one who is drugged. The Indians, with their heavily religious natures, had made her succumb to their vision. It is the colour of what goes away and is never coming back, but which is always here, waiting like death among us. It is the colour of the dead. And it is the colour that stands away off, looking at us from the distance, that cannot come near to us.
When we go near, it goes farther. It can't be near. We are all brown and yellow and black hair, and white teeth and red blood. We are the ones that are here. You with blue eyes, you are the messengers from the far-away, you cannot stay, and now it is time for you to go back. The white women have driven back the moon in the sky, won't let her come to the sun. So the sun is angry.
And the Indian must give the moon to the sun. And the Indian women will open the gate to the moon. The white women don't let the moon come down out of the blue coral. The moon used to come down among the Indian women, like a white goat among the flowers. And the sun want to come down to the Indian men, like an eagle to the pine-trees. The sun, he is shut out behind the white man, and the moon she is shut out behind the white woman, and they can't get away.
They are angry, everything in the world gets angrier. The Indian says, he will give the white woman to the sun, so the sun will leap over the white man and come to the Indian again. And the moon will be surprised, she will see the gate open, and she not know which way to go. But the Indian woman will call to the moon, Come! Come back into my grasslands. The wicked white woman can't harm you any more.
Then the sun will look over the heads of the white men, and see the moon in the pastures of our women, with the Red Men standing around like pine trees. Then he will leap over the heads of the white men, and come running past to the Indians through the spruce trees.
And we, who are red and black and yellow, we who stay, we shall have the sun on our right hand and the moon on our left. So we can bring the rain down out of the blue meadows, and up out of the black; and we can call the wind that tells the corn to grow, when we ask him, and we shall make the clouds to break, and the sheep to have twin lambs. And we shall be full of power, like a spring day. But the white people will be a hard winter, without snow--".
She could never quite understand the way he looked at her. He was always so curiously gentle, and his smile was so soft. Yet there was such glitter in his eyes, and an unrelenting sort of hate came out of his words, a strange, profound, impersonal hate. Personally he liked her, she was sure.
He was gentle with her, attracted by her in some strange, soft, passionless way. But impersonally he hated her with a mystic hatred. He would smile at her, winningly. Yet if, the next moment, she glanced round at him unawares, she would catch that gleam of pure after-hate in his eyes. They were gentle with her, and very considerate with her. Strange men, the old priests and the young cacique alike, they watched over her and cared for her like women.
In their soft, insidious understanding, there was something womanly. Yet their eyes, with that strange glitter, and their dark, shut mouths that would open to the broad jaw, the small, strong, white teeth, had something very primitively male and cruel. One wintry day, when snow was falling, they took her to a great dark chamber in the big house. The fire was burning in a corner on a high raised dais under a sort of hood or canopy of adobe-work. She saw in the fire-glow, the glowing bodies of the almost naked priests, and strange symbols on the roof and walls of the chamber.
There was no door or window in the chamber, they had descended by a ladder from the roof. And the fire of pinewood danced continually, showing walls painted with strange devices, which she could not understand, and a ceiling of poles making a curious pattern of black and red and yellow, and alcoves or niches in which were curious objects she could not discern. The older priests were going through some ceremony near the fire, in silence, intense Indian silence.
She was seated on a low projection of the wall, opposite the fire, two men seated beside her. Presently they gave her a drink from a cup, which she took gladly, because of the semi-trance it would induce. In the darkness and in the silence she was accurately aware of everything that happened to her: Then they laid her on a couch under another great indecipherable image of red and black and yellow, and now rubbed all her body with sweet-scented oil, and massaged all her limbs, and her back, and her sides, with a long, strange, hypnotic massage.
Their dark hands were incredibly powerful, yet soft with a watery softness she could not understand. And the dark faces, leaning near her white body, she saw were darkened with red pigment, with lines of yellow round the cheeks. And the dark eyes glittered absorbed, as the hands worked upon the soft white body of the woman.
They were so impersonal, absorbed in something that was beyond her. They never saw her as a personal woman: She was some mystic object to them, some vehicle of passions too remote for her to grasp. Herself in a state of trance, she watched their faces bending over her, dark, strangely glistening with the transparent red paint, and lined with bars of yellow.
And in this weird, luminous-dark mask of living face, the eyes were fixed with an unchanging steadfast gleam, and the purplish-pigmented lips were closed in a full, sinister, sad grimness. The immense fundamental sadness, the grimness of ultimate decision, the fixity of revenge, and the nascent exultance of those that are going to triumph--these things she could read in their faces, as she lay and was rubbed into a misty glow, by their uncanny dark hands.
Her limbs, her flesh, her very bones at last seemed to be diffusing into a roseate sort of mist, in which her consciousness hovered like some sun-gleam in a flushed cloud.
She knew the gleam would fade, the cloud would go grey. But at present she did not believe it. She knew she was a victim; that all this elaborate work upon her was the work of victimising her.
But she did not mind. Later, they put a short blue tunic on her and took her to the upper terrace, and presented her to the people. She saw the plaza below her full of dark faces and of glittering eyes. There was no pity: The people gave a subdued cry when they saw her, and she shuddered. But she hardly cared.
Next day was the last. She slept in a chamber of the big house. At dawn they put on her a big blue blanket with a fringe, and led her out into the plaza, among the throng of silent, dark-blanketed people. There was pure white snow on the ground, and the dark people in their dark-brown blankets looked like inhabitants of another world.
A large drum was slowly pounding, and an old priest was declaring from a housetop. But it was not till noon that a litter came forth, and the people gave that low, animal cry which was so moving. In the sack-like litter sat the old, old cacique, his white hair braided with black braid and large turquoise stones.
His face was like a piece of obsidian. He lifted his hand in token, and the litter stopped in front of her. Fixing her with his old eyes, he spoke to her for a few moments, in his hollow voice. Another litter came, and she was placed in it. Four priests moved ahead, in their scarlet and yellow and black, with plumed headdresses. Then came the litter of the old cacique. Then the light drums began, and two groups of singers burst simultaneously into song, male and wild. And the golden-red, almost naked men, adorned with ceremonial feathers and kilts, the rivers of black hair down their backs, formed into two files and began to tread the dance.
So they threaded out of the snowy plaza, in two long, sumptuous lines of dark red-gold and black and fur, swaying with a faint tinkle of bits of shell and flint, winding over the snow between the two bee-clusters of men who sang around the drum.
Slowly they moved out, and her litter, with its attendance of feathered, lurid, dancing priests, moved after. Everybody danced the tread of the dance-step, even, subtly, the litter-bearers. And out of the plaza they went, past smoking ovens, on the trail to the great cotton-wood trees, that stood like grey-silver lace against the blue sky, bare and exquisite above the snow.
The river, diminished, rushed among fangs of ice. The chequer-squares of gardens within fences were all snowy, and the white houses now looked yellowish. The whole valley glittered intolerably with pure snow, away to the walls of the standing rock.
And across the flat cradle of snow-bed wound the long thread of the dance, shaking slowly and sumptuously in its orange and black motion. The high drums thudded quickly, and on the crystalline frozen air the swell and roar of the chant of savages was like an obsession.
She sat looking out of her litter with big, transfixed blue eyes, under which were the wan markings of her drugged weariness. She knew she was going to die, among the glisten of this snow, at the hands of this savage, sumptuous people. And as she stared at the blaze of blue sky above the slashed and ponderous mountain, she thought: What difference does it make, the transition from the dead I am to the dead I shall be, very soon!
The strange procession trailed on, in perpetual dance, slowly across the plain of snow, and then entered the slopes between the pine-trees. She saw the copper-dark men dancing the dance-tread, onwards, between the copper-pale tree trunks. And at last she, too, in her swaying litter, entered the pine-trees. They were travelling on and on, upwards, across the snow under the trees, past the superb shafts of pale, flaked copper, the rustle and shake and tread of the threading dance, penetrating into the forest, into the mountain.
They were following a stream-bed: There were dark, red-bronze willow bushes with wattles like wild hair, and pallid aspen trees looking like cold flesh against the snow. Then jutting dark rocks.
At last she could tell that the dancers were moving forward no more. Nearer and nearer she came upon the drums, as to a lair of mysterious animals. Then through the bushes she emerged into a strange amphitheatre. Facing was a great wall of hollow rock, down the front of which hung a great, dripping, fang-like spoke of ice.
The ice came pouring over the rock from the precipice above, and then stood arrested, dripping out of high heaven, almost down to the hollow stones where the stream-pool should be below. But the pool was dry. On either side the dry pool, the lines of dancers had formed, and the dance was continuing without intermission, against a background of bushes. But what she felt was that fanged inverted pinnacle of ice, hanging from the lip of the dark precipice above.
And behind the great rope of ice, she saw the leopard-like figures of priests climbing the hollow cliff face, to the cave that, like a dark socket, bored a cavity, an orifice, half way up the crag. Before she could realise, her litter-bearers were staggering in the footholds, climbing the rock. She, too, was behind the ice. There it hung, like a curtain that is not spread, but hangs like a great fang. And near above her was the orifice of the cave sinking dark into the rock.
She watched it as she swayed upwards. On the platform of the cave stood the priests, waiting in all their gorgeousness of feathers and fringed robes, watching her ascent.
Two of them stooped to help her litter-bearer. And at length she was on the platform of the cave, far in behind the shaft of ice, above the hollow amphitheatre among the bushes below, where men were dancing, and the whole populace of the village was clustered in silence. The sun was sloping down the afternoon sky, on the left.
She knew that this was the shortest day of the year, and the last day of her life. They stood her facing the iridescent column of ice, which fell down marvellously arrested, away in front of her. Some signal was given, and the dance below stopped. There was now absolute silence. She was given a little to drink, then two priests took off her mantle and her tunic, and in her strange pallor she stood there, between the lurid robes of the priests, beyond the pillar of ice, beyond and above the dark-faced people.
The throng below gave the low, wild cry. Then the priests turned her round, so she stood with her back to the open world, her long blond hair to the people below. And they cried again.
She was facing the cave, inwards. His wife asked me what kind of woman sleeps with a married man and she is right. Had I had respect for myself I would have never allowed it. Listen to your gut; it knows the truth. Be good to yourself and kind and mostly love yourself and be with yourself until you are strong enough to venture out into the world to find someone who will truly love you.
Hugs to you all…we are all in pain…. Hi, I am the other woman. We were high school sweethearts both married when we reconnected 5 years ago.
He was unhappy and so was I. Both left our marriages, though he continued to co-habitate with his ex for 3 years due to financial reasons, not ready to sell their house and him wanting to avoid court.
During this time, his wife contacted my ex-husband still to this day, none of us are divorced , and the two of them began a 4-year full on affair as a result of our actions. During this time, his wife still cried and maintained that she loved my lover her husband.
Which I told her she was crazy and none of this was true, it was wishful thinking on her part and she read more into what her husband was saying, hearing only what she wanted to hear. Over the next few months I put my foot down, told him it was her or me.
Finally on year 4, he moved out of their house for 15 months and got his own apartment. I have attended his family reunions, holidays with his parents and brothers, and am considered now part of his family. Fast forward to 5 years… after 15 months, he has moved back into the house he shares with his wife. He states that they share different rooms and it is strictly a roommate situation- she has no job and nowhere else to go.
She has since cut off all contact with my ex, he calls me to discuss this often, as he cannot understand how she cut him off so cold, will no longer speak to him for the past 5 months — he really loves her.
I feel sorry for him. I still continue to see my lover, we are planning a future together. I understand his living arrangements but am wondering how much longer this will last. My ex called me about a month ago and told me his friend witnessed them together at a beach, this friend also knows her. The friend said they were camping together, headed down the coast. When is she going to get a life and move on? I think this woman has done enough damage to all of our lives.
He is still paying for her everything! Can you give me any advice on this crazy situation? I can imagine the turmoil and heartache you are going through. I too sought sexual fulfillment outside of my marriage. It is a basic human desire…My belief is that if you are truly meant to be with this other woman it will happen.
If not, then time is the only thing that will help. Your wife will probably intuitively know something is amiss with you but she may keep it to herself.
If she is not acknowledging the importance of having your sexual and with it, intimacy needs met then I think the marriage is doomed. My case is a little unique, plus my affair partner and I had a deep friendship when we were teenagers. Our sexual affair has now become a love affair but this has taken a long time to get to this point and we are at a place of torment.
I wonder if you have been so starved of affection and attention that this led to your affair. Your affair partner was probably swept away by the excitement of the affair but the reality of it all was probably too much for a 24 year old to handle. If nothing changes in your marriage then you can either accept the continued death of your soul by remaining in it, get out and feel you have scarred your children for life , or choose to have another affair more pain.
Only you can decide. I feel your pain and confusion in trying to make sense of it all. From pain comes growth. I wish you well. Anyway, we have two kids and went on vacation with our babysitter. She is 24; I am We innocently talked while on vacation and after the trip we were texting basic stuff since we innocently got to know each other for a week… Well, one thing led to another and we went from having an emotional affair without seeing each other and texting and talking everyday for a month to me flying to see her in Arizona for two days and going to Sedona.
It was wonderful, she ended up moving back to the Midwest after she broke up with her boyfriend, not due to me, but being unhappy. The affair ended due to my affair partner not being able to handle the guilt and worrying about what others would think. I get it but we or I felt we were deeply in love. She told her ex about what happened too. I was willing to leave my wife for her and gave her true time frames for when this would happen. She also no longer babysits, she keeps blowing off my wife with lame excuses why she cannot babysit.
So obviously the storm is brewing. I feel like I really love her but there is nothing I can do. Serves me right I guess with karma biting me quickly and her breaking my heart instead of other way around.
Any advice for my messed up head? Like I said before, you do not know my circumstances. He never made any promises and I never expected him to leave her. He loved us both—and yes, it is possible. We were both satisfied with things as they were. He died of cancer. You know absolutely nothing about me and you have gone out of your way to continue to take a stab at me. I suggest you find the woman who your husband cheated on you with and direct your comments to her.
Go ahead and have the last word, if that will make you feel triumphant. I have no intention to respond to any more hatred from you. To Glad I amuse you, I like making people laugh.
I was cheated on and I have also been the other woman so I have in a way walked in your shoes, but you can not say the same about walking in mine as the cheated on wife.
I hate to tell ya but you are the one that was living an illusion. Which should be very clear to you now, since he is with his wife and not you.
That would take a cheating husband talking to his wife about these so called problems not the other woman. All the pain you may feel was brought on by your own choices. I am not vindictive but I have absolutely no pity or compassion for you or others like you.
YOU need to take responsibility. I did take responsibility for my actions when I was the other woman, I came to my senses, got rid of him and moved on. I felt bad that my actions could have hurt someone in a very profound way, someone that had never did anything to me.
I do not act proud of my actions like you do. It is nothing to be proud of. I hardly think of myself as a joke and I have no reason to be ashamed. Nor do I feel any guilt. She is his roommate for all purposes. They have carried on the illusion of a good marriage for over 40 years which made her happy and him miserable.
He WAS mine for those six years. It is none of your business why and how it occurred and until you have walked in my shoes, you have no reason to judge. We end up with just as much or more pain and heartache than the scorned wife. Take responsibility here and quit blaming us.
Forgive him and work on it from there or walk on. You say friends who work with her have told you she is jealous and insecure, well who would not be if your husband has been cheating on you for , what did you say 6 YEARS!!! You refuse to be part of THEIR drama, what a joke you are, you were just as much involved in causing the drama by deciding to carry on with a married man.
You should be ashamed of your actions as much as he is. Boo hoo now you have had to shed some tears how awful for you to loose something that was never yours to begin with.
After 6 YEARS of lying to the person he made marriage vows to is not reason enough for you to believe he might have been lying to you too!!! My husband had an affair while stationed in the AF and I was not able to live with him. Our marriage was fine but he lied to her.
They drank liquor and smoked their heads off and slept together two nights, at least that is all he says they slept together. Needless to say he had condoms with him but she laughed at him and he choose not to use them. YES, she got knocked up. He left for a tour of 3 months in Guam. He got the letter, decided not to believe it because she was big jokester and he had written he a letter with a bunch o cock and bull in it and though she was just getting back at him for that.
We resumed our marriage after his duty assignment was over and I found a note in his wallet. He did not tell me the extent of the relationship, it was over three — four weeks and he did not say she was pregnant. Fast forward 45 years and yes, the daughter appears. She seems to want a relationship with her father and his family and for me she just represents the sin that she was created thru. I know she is innocent, but where has she and her mother been for 45 years.
She is not a small child in need of a daddy. She is married with no children, thank goodness for that. We told our adult children which we regret doing and now she is coming between our children and us.
They have all connected with her and one has went so far as to meet her. She has had 27 yeas since she was 18 to find him and they knew what state he was from, his name, etc. I am having a hard time forgiving my husband of 50 years this July for the selfishness of all this and the denial of a child he help to create thru his betrayal of me. I just want it to all go away! It does take courage to end a relationship. Write out what you will say—that it is not in YOUR best interest to continue seeing him and it over now.
You need some emotional distance to get your life in order. If you feel it is best to end your marriage, talk with a counselor, talk with your husband. You are deciding on some major life changes and that is not a coward. Not all relationships are affairs or flings and not all marriages are salvageable. I wish you luck. Stay strong in your decisions. I appreciate your comment. Of course you are right.
I know that both men in my life are emotionally unavailable and I need to have the courage to end both relationships. Which one do I end first? I am being a coward and hoping my affair partner will move further away he is looking for work in a country much further away thus I would hardly ever see him, thus breaking that bond. I obviously have my own issues whereby I think that these men in my life are all that I deserve.
Dear , I am sorry your marriage is not satisfying. It seems like you have gotten a raw deal, giving and giving but not receiving. Please though, consider your options. Getting deeper with the affair partner is going to hurt you. I am and I can tell you the hurt and anger continues as he tries to get his marriage back together…. I have severed all communication. I understand that the amazing sex and feelings you have for your partner have lit a new spark of life in you.
End your relationship with dignity and move on. As far as your home life is concerned, your husband needs to learn to take care of himself. You son will be ok. I am sure he would want you to be much happier than you are now. You are a valuable person who is worthy of much more.
I am married to a man with a brain injury. He had an accident before we married. After 10 yrs of dating we married and have one child. I am the breadwinner and even though he is able to work he chooses not to, apart from 6 hrs per week. I supported him for 10 years while he got a university degree. My husband has never been interested in sex. I have always had to approach him and sex was very unsatisfactory for both of us. I reached menopause and realised I wanted to experience great sex.
I made contact with my first love. He and I were ever only friends but had a spark.. He lives in another country, 3 hrs flight away, is married also.
After 2 yrs of occasional meetings the emotIonal affair became sexual. For me, having only slept with my husband, the sex was mind blowing. I never knew this side of me existed.. We see each other about 4 times a year for several weeks at a time. The guilt is horrific. My affair partner also has undiagnosed Aspergers and has trouble coping with all the emotions that are snowballing between us. The affair is 2 years and counting…. How do you know her husband messes around a lot? Because she told you?
If she wanted to be with you, she could easily divorce her husband. There are no laws that I know of forcing people to stay married. We started off as best friends but after a while we fell in love.
He knows our feelings for each so he tries to keep us apart. Even though he goes and fucks who he wants. Idk what to do anymore. I just feel lost….
Of course I considered he could be lying. However, I am not in the man-haters club as many women are. I believe someone until they give me a reason not to. His marriage may not be so terrible, but it is a charade because appearances matter to her. I know who she is because I used to do business where she works. I have a friend who works there too who has confirmed that she is jealous and insecure.
We also have mutual friends, one who said he also told him he wished he had never married. His pride as well as her deep religious beliefs have kept them from divorce. She wants him to hate me as much as she does. My last sentence says learn from my story. Did it ever occur to you that he was lying through his teeth about his relationship with his wife? He was lying to his wife for years about you. If his marriage was so terrible, he was free to divorce and move on.
Block his number, block him on FB and move on. Life is way too short. I too, am the other woman. This is my story and it is long. Please read it for me and for yourself. I am responding to help myself find closure. Seeing a counselor was a worthless waste of time and money because she refused to consider my feelings.
Her attitude was that I needed to be punished, maybe even have the letter A carved into my forehead. I had no one to talk to. I was alone once it was over, and it was very difficult.
Our relationship lasted six years and would still be going on had he not been careless. She discovered a picture of us that was not deleted from a camera card. I cannot tell you the heartache and stress that this has caused everyone.
We were friends and that was all. One day he asked me if I would like to become closer. He confided in me that he was in a sexless marriage and had been for most of their 40 years together. Yeah, we are not kids. I thought long and hard about it and told him we could but it might be just once and we would need to have rules. After much discussion, it began. It was a comfortable relationship and we genuinely cared about each other.
It was not a sexual fling. I became his girlfriend. I never pressured him to leave her, I never wanted him to. I was content with what we had. Leaving her for me was not an option.
I realized that it was more than sex that was missing from his life. We did more talking than romancing in the early months. I watched him become more confident with more self esteem. As he revealed more about their relationship, I was shocked that he stayed. She dictated how they would have sex and when. I never heard him say he loved her.
He always said she was a good woman. He said more than once that if he had to do it over again, he never would have gotten married. Fast forward to that dreadful day. He texted me early one morning to say she had discovered the picture.
I was shocked and I felt bad that she had to find out that way. I was also angry with him for being so careless. I told him it was over between us and my heartache began. She believes that it happened four years ago and that he only saw me for a month or two.
She has unfriended me from his FB page and blocked me from sending e-mails. I had not contacted him but she did this anyway without his knowledge. She also threatened to destroy him and take all of their property leaving him with nothing. She is quite vindictive. So this weekend, which is the seventh month, she gave him permission to talk to me. He told me they were in marriage counseling. Good, they have more issues than his relationship with me. So what she wanted him to tell me was the marriage counselor and she want him to call me and tell me that I am not to have any communication with him.
She wants to listen in on the conversation. Who is this supposed to benefit? Will this make her trust him again? I told him absolutely not. It was not in my best interest and she could just forget that half-baked idea. She wants full control over him which is ok with me, but she will not be controlling me. I told him I would not consent to that and I would not answer the phone if I saw his number. He then said it might be on her phone.
Do I want her to have access to my phone number? She has also been stalking me on FB even though I blocked her access. I did tell him about the phone calls and I have not contacted him since then, and I will not be manipulated by her.
Yes, I am the other woman. I am not a home wrecker, I do not deserve the punishment that has been doled out to me. Yes, I am responsible for being in a relationship with her husband. He is the one who pursued me. My question to her and to other women in her situation is, where is YOUR responsibility in this?
Did you love your husband and take care of his needs? Did you make him feel like a strong, confident man? Did you ever tell him he was handsome, charming and sexy? I will not stop existing because she want me to.
I truly hope that they can restore their marriage and learn to love each other like they did when they were once in love.
I do not think they have been for a long time. I will not be standing in the way. Her insistence that he call me has put me back to the terrible day when my heartache began. I have cried enough tears. I have enough information about their marriage to destroy her like she wants to do to me, but I am not that kind of person. I would not like myself if I did that. I choose to take the high road. So ladies, if you find yourself being pursued by a married man, no matter what, tell him to put his energy into making his relationship right with his wife.
Tell him that you want no part of it. I am the other woman. I simply did not know. How am I to be blamed for something I have only just been made aware of? Where does this new found information leave me? Heartbroken, devastated, feeling used, and broken, yes all of these things,and much more, all because I trusted him. All because I gave him my heart. How was I to know?
To the other woman- He told you I was aware of the obvious emotional connection between the two of you. In fact he flattered himself in telling you I said the two of you were having an affair, which is not the truth. I specifically told him the two of you were being overly friendly in public and that I had run across all of the emails the two of you exchanged.
He swore there was nothing going on, hoping I would buy yet another one of his lies. He was only kidding himself. Yes, our children are fully aware, so please stop trying to warm them over with your charms whenever we attend school events.
Keep in mind that if he has an emotional connection with you, he might some day replace you with someone else. Yes, I was wrong; you cannot help who you fall in love with…the heart want what it wants…we were compatible in every aspect…he was my best friend, believe it or not. His wife was hurt and betrayed, but so was I. He did promise me a future of finally living out our dreams. I gave my whole heart to him, my soul, my mind, my body…so just imagine when that gets taken away from you…the person you love with all that you are…if that gets taken away, imagine the devastation left in its wake.
He is back with his family, he has people that love him, whereas I have lost everything and am labelled the home wrecking whore, although I did not wreck his home cause he is still there.
So just try and imagine the heartbreak you feel everyday. So yes, what I have done has come back to me ten fold. Its been 2 months, and I cry everyday. I am no longer the person I was who loved life.
That passionate, vibrant woman is now replaced by a ghost of a girl…one who uses sleep to escape the pain, whose once shining eyes are now dead, who has dead butterflies in her stomach every minute of every day, who has thought countless times of ending her life, who has brought all this unhappiness and brokenness upon herself…so yes…maybe we do not deserve any form of sympathy.
But just remember while you are now fixing your marriage and life there still is a woman out there who suffers everyday just because she fell in love. Be thankful for that. I met a man 15 years ago while going through my own divorce my husband cheated and this new man had just divorced as well.
We have never lived together as we both had children the same age and both of us felt scorned by our former spouses and wanted to wait to get married later in life, if at all. His adopted son was going thru so many issues over the last 15 years, including jail time yes, it is true I have seen the court records , that when we were together it was easier to always do it at my place.
Last month, on Labor Day weekend, he married someone else. Quite shocked I confronted him and he denied it. And for 3 continuous weeks all I have heard was his undying love for me and how he wishes he had never married her, that he wont ever leave me that he owns me, he constantly told me this via text and on the phone and in person. Now a month later, it turns out I am the bad guy. This is his 3rd marriage, all 3 marriages he cheated on the spouse, and I have just found out about this as well.
She received an email from someone letting her know about me and we have spoken. He even went so far to tell the new wife he stayed with me only because I have brain cancer and he felt sorry for me. He refuses to tell me he is sorry and not having that closure has hurt very much after 15 years. He has called my mother via his wifes phone telling her he has hated me for the last 15 years.
He and his wife have been blocked on my phone. I want to move on, but still want that closure which I know I wont get, I even changed my job so he cant find me. I just need to know if I did the right thing and he wont try to start this up again if he finds me. I have been with m married man for 7 years, and he is a huge very involved part of my life. He does everything for me that a husband would do and we feel more married to each other than we ever have to our spouses.
I ended my marriage 6 weeks after we met. He stays for reasons I both understand and agree with. His wife has had another man and recently a DUI, she is planning on moving out, leaving him the house and primary care of their teen son.
I would not change one thing with how our relationship has evolved. I would not give him up for anything. This man is a coward. Same as my ex-husband was. Things are very comfortable for him.
Chances are, his wife does not know about you. She may find out and kick him out. Do you really want him then? I doubt you are his first mistress. You say you date. Try to focus on that. One that is more trustworthy. I was helping a friend move one afternoon and another friend of hers showed up amongst countless others; he offered me a beer and since ten hours of packing had passed, I accepted. We chatted, we got along, we talked. I noticed he was texting someone and asked whom… He said his wife.
Disappointed but relieved I found out before anything transpired, though I was enjoying our rapport, complete ease of conversation and complete comfort level before the revelation. Hours later and moving duties aside, a bit more drinking occurred amongst all and somehow he caught me alone and kissed me. I had previously removed myself from him earlier due to his marriage revelation; I was disappointed when he told me, due to how well we clicked but did the responsible and right thing by not continuing my interaction any further.
He claimed it was his first OW moment in his marriage and we then said goodbye. He contacted me a few days later on FB and we talked about everything especially that it was a fluke and completely not sought out by either party. We did keep communicating though… It was just so seamless. Next month it will be three years. Every post on here seems to start emotionally and becomes physical. We started physical but somehow developed to emotional as well. To this day, we never discuss his marriage his request , only his reason they stay together, his children.
He has never complained about his marriage or wife. He does however contact me on every major event… Example: I do find this very weird. I do wish I will have enough strength to end this nonsense, sooner than later. He obviously still wants his wife. He chose her and continues to choose her as his wife.
All mistresses, beware as married men that have affairs will use and abuse you, then drop you when they become bored. They will lie that all is terrible with their wives at home, yet they are still there. Good luck and push for the commitment. The pain of the betrayed, the longing of the OW, the lonely marriage, the excuses, the real love…all of it.
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