I logged in to Skype before going to bed last night. You left a message there for me. You wrote, “Sorry I missed you. Maybe we can chat tomorrow.” You ended your two sentence post with the little
Immediately I started to write all of my thoughts down.
After all this time, I finally understand what you were doing. It wasn’t that you were trying to hurt me by calling Andy’s parents, her work, her phone et cetera. It wasn’t that you were trying to betray me by sending her messages by text and email about private things that you and I had talked about. It was that you were trying to make her go away. From your point of you, you might have even been protecting me. All the times that I said I couldn’t trust you must have been really painful for you. From your point of you, you were doing what was best for us. From my point of view at the time, I thought you were trying to get my kids taken from me. I no longer think your were so evil. From your point of view, you were not doing anything wrong at all. It was, in fact, the exact same behavior that I displayed when I listened to your secrets and then told a certain person that he had a broken dick. I wasn’t trying to betray you. It was to drive a nail into a coffin I wanted buried. That’s exactly what you did. Even in our bad behavior, we are still very much a like. I understand now.
I thought a lot about that drive from Vegas. I dwelled on it for a long time, essentially driving the wedge deeper between us. I was thinking about it today. I was thinking about throwing the glass of vodka into your face and grabbing the steering wheel and driving us off the road into the black desert night. We immediately stopped fighting and immediately started working together to get the car back onto the road. Eventually, I had to push the car. You stayed in the car stepping on the gas. We rocked the car back and forth and in one unexpected thrust it shot out onto the road. It was in the middle of the desert. It was early in the morning. Nobody was around for dozens of miles. If you were really going to hurt me, you would have driven off in that moment. You didn’t. You stopped the car and waited for me to catch up to it and get back in.
You say that you are afraid that you are going to hurt me. I don’t think you could. I think that in your heart you know how deeply we love each other. I don’t think that you could hurt me. I don’t think that you would ever really want to hurt me. Those phone calls. Those texts. Those were not attacks. You were fighting for me in the most passionate, desperate way possible. I wish I would have understood that at the time. It took losing you to know that you really love me.
Well, talk to you later. (cat)
I know there is a lot of back history here that most people are not going to understand.
The “vodka in the face” makes me look like the aggressor. I was basically kidnapped and tormented for a total of four hours in a hide speed car ride through the Mojave desert. In the end, I decided the only way to end the event was to crash the car. I know. That sounds crazy. The driver, my wife, had been drinking vodka. She had a glass in the car. I threw it on her because I thought the police might be able to smell it and I grabbed the steering wheel forcing the car to veer off the road into the sand to stop the car. I still sounds crazy, but it worked. I wasn’t thinking straight. I just wanted it to stop the car. The transformation was complete. She snapped out of her manic episode immediately and the event was mostly over.
Actually, now that I think about it, I really don’t care if anyone understands this or not. This is my therapy. Check in later. I’ll make some back history posts and link to them.
Anyhow, I skyped the long message and logged off. A little while later, I logged back in and deleted the whole message. Women are kind of crazy. They like it when they have to work for love. I deleted the message and wrote some one liner like, “Sure, sounds like fun. <3” and logged off again.
I am not really sure why she wants to chat with me. Is it going to be to tell me how sorry she is? Is it going to be to tell me how fucked up I am? Afterall, this is my version of events. All I can say is that (a) I never cheated on her (b) I never punched her in the face (c) I had sex with her whenever she wanted (d) I never went out to bars and came home slobbering drunk (e) I didn’t watch sports on tv (f) I tried to forgive the insane bi-polar outbreaks (g) I loved her with my whole being.
Anyhow, that’s about all I have to say right now.