A Finger Food Or A Forever?

 My hair was pulled up into a messy bun of sorts, tucked away as neatly as possible into my hairnet. I bent over the fryer, filtering the dirty oil and replacing it with clean.

"Love monkey!" my cousin's voice was, as it is most of the time, pretty cheerful. Now, let me go ahead and point out that T is...well, she's like a sister to me. We were, quite literally, raised together. Her own parents kind of bailed when she was about five and she's lived with me, off and on, for the last fifteen or so years. But, she's pregnant, and I don't feel like she's ready. It terrifies me when I think of her, out on her own, with a bitty baby to tend. I've seen how she treats her dogs, and it just scares me to death. She tries, but she has no real role-model, and, God, I hate to watch her struggle. Usually, I try and fix whatever mess she's made. This isn't something I can do for her, becoming a mother. So, we've had more fights in the last several months than we have in the last several years....

And, yet, she knows me. I turned to face her. 

"Shit, you look rough. What's the matter?"

"Nothing big," I sighed. "Just, Steven hurt my feelings a little bit. We were supposed to spend time together--only like a half hour--before I came to work, but his friend came over and he bailed out. I think I'm probably just blowing it out of proportion. I didn't tell you, but he cheated not long ago, and I think I'm just still trying to work through it." 

"Oh, God! You found out?? That's fantastic! No offense, or anything, but I've had pictures of his profile on POF on my phone for AGES. I couldn't decide whether it was best to tell you, or just let you stay...you know...blissfully ignorant." My heart sunk and met my stomach somewhere down in the area of my toes. 

"POF? What's...I don't know what that is." And she told me--it was another dating site, "Plenty of Fish". And she showed me pictures. It was the correct age, it was from about two months ago. He listed under pets our dogs, and under marital status, it read single. He was looking for "A woman" for "Dating, but nothing serious." 

I felt the lump building in my throat, and fled to the bathroom after making some excuses to my co-workers. I called, and he said he didn't even remember making it. The account had already been deleted, (I checked before I called him), but just the knowledge that he was out on multiple sites looking for someone that was more than me...

I cried. For the whole rest of the shift and into today. I told him to pack his things, and to leave. Or to stay, but he could sleep on the futon, and that we weren't together. He told me not to talk like that, that we weren't broken up, that we couldn't be. 

I don't know what we are. I felt some better this morning, but this is like any other stage of grief: it comes in its waves. Sometimes, my heart feels so full I want to burst. I want to take that pain out somewhere, to pour it out into water and watch it rush away. I find that I want to hurt him back. I want him to feel what I'm feeling, to hurt like I'm hurting. 

I want to know how you can love someone, and still be looking, always looking. 

But, I know we don't do well separate. I'm not sure I'm strong enough to leave. I'm not sure I'm strong enough to stay. I just want to curl up into a ball someplace quiet and still and be left alone. 

As Steven pointed out, however, it showed no activity, and it had been deleted. He swore up and down that since I found out about fetlife, he'd been faithful, that it was only me, and it only ever would be me from here on out. He said if he'd remembered about POF, he'd have put it out on the table during the fetlife fiasco and gotten rid of it. 

I'm confused and hurting. I feel like I must just be THAT girl. The one that everyone knows isn't going to be worth it, the one that is someone to come home to, a safe, solid, easy choice. A she'll-never-bail-workaholic that is there for sex when they want it, there for affection if they get the urge, and gone often enough that they can have everyone else they want, too. I feel like a finger food--pawed, handled, passed over in favor of something sweeter. I don't want that: I don't want to be a finger food; I want to be a forever. 

I told him we could staying living together for a while, but he had to prove that he loved me. That he loved only me and would only love me. He assured me that he would do that and then some. I'm too terrified to even hope he's telling the truth. 

I Wrote

You know, they say if you do something for more than 21 days, it becomes an addiction.
This blog must be mine--because every day since that last post, every day since sharing mine and Steven's utter debacle, this blog has crossed my mind. I've considered posting on the days where I've been inconsolable and heart broken.

I've considered blogging on the days that we took a few careful steps in the right direction.

I nearly wrote the night I came home to find a room remodeled completely for me in silent apology.

My fingers were on the keyboard after the following conversation:

"I just don't feel like you can be snappy with me over this, Steven...I didn't do this. I'm not the one that cheated. I'm just hurting. Maybe, sometime down the line, when this is all said and done, and we've moved on, maybe on that day, you can. But, this is the day after. This should...oh, I don't know...be the day of hearts and chocolates and flowers and sorries down on your knees!"(As wrong as that sentence felt. I've been so used to him being the rock, the strong one, the support I hold on to.)

"I am sorry, baby--"

"Don't call me that! I don't feel like your baby!"

"But you *are*. And, like I was saying, I *am* sorry, but I'm not that KIND of sorry."

"Well, you need to find a different way to be sorry, or just leave. I'm not strong enough for this."

That night, I nearly wrote to say I was done.

And, I know that all of you would have continued to be so supportive. I so appreciated all of your comments before.

I wanted to have somewhere to say how I felt when I woke up in the middle of that first night, and I thought it was a nightmare I'd woken from...only to reach out and touch him just in time to remember it was true.

When I realized a good part of my struggle was not only losing that feeling of trust, but also, losing our whole dynamic--we've always been of a DD bent, he's always been the Boss--I wanted to spew my confusion onto someone.

Then, when we had sex for the first time again--Lord, I wanted to write then! But, I feared that you guys would tell me I was crazy. That I should have waited. That I should have left.

One of my managers in training asked me the other day, "If you couldn't keep his attention the first time, what makes you think you're going to cut it now?"
 
I had to pull off the side of the road after work because I couldn't see through the tears. And, confusingly enough--the person I chose to talk to about all of it?

Was Steven. He told me I should have told her to go pleasure herself. At my look of confusion, he grinned and explained, "You don't like me to say 'fuck'...I thought you might prefer 'pleasure'." I had to laugh.

It's been a very, very confusing journey, this last week or so. I let him spank me. It felt so normal and right. I don't know how to take that.

He apologized when we had sex again, for being dumb and for not giving me what I needed, and he promised to be there.

And, for all my lack of trust, for all that struggle...

I believe him.

So, I wrote.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O1-4u9W-bns

...The Shoe Fell...

Ok, guys. I'm just gonna be honest here. This is going to probably be my last post for a good little while. I'm hurting and confused and just not at all feeling inspired to write.

He cheated. Has been, the whole time we've been together. It's all been online, nothing in person. Just websites and role play and pretend, fantasy sex with other women. But, I've been ignorant of it the whole time. I feel very much like I've been caught with my pants down. And, even though he may not have ever touched another woman, that emotional and mental connection was there.

I'm not going to go into how I found out, or the long hours of tears and panic and that final, horrible confrontation.

The sinking feeling in my gut when I called and he asked what all I had seen.

We've decided to try and work it out; I don't feel strong enough for it, but I'd never forgive myself if I didn't try. I've invested too much to just walk out.

Needless to say, however, DD is out of the picture for the moment. Without that level of trust..I just don't feel it's appropriate. But, I think this can be dealt with. And, I think, if our relationship does survive this particular bitch of a storm, we'll go back to DD at some point.

Maybe that's when I'll write again.

But, for now, goodbye. It's been a pleasure hearing your comments and support and sympathy and even chastisement of sorts for some of my more outlandish stunts. Thank you all. I've so enjoyed your friendship.

--Grace