If I were to ask him right now what, in an ideal world, would happen between us, what would his answer be?

What would be my answer?

Exactly what is happening. For it to be over between us. For me to move into the house, for him and Gem to go somewhere else. For life to progress, to move on, to try again. To do all of the things I’ve been wanting to do, but haven’t.

His answer would be for everything to go back to the way it was, for nothing to change. For him the past five years have been full of changes – he talks longingly about the futon and tube tv we had when we moved here, days without a car, without money or means. The good old days when we were happy.

But the good old days haven’t been good in a very long time. We didn’t fight constantly, we didn’t hate each other, but we also didn’t do better. We stopped progressing and that is death to me.

So what do I want that is so different?

It’s more than just a house but everything seems to stem from there. I want to putter and have something to do, instead of sitting on the couch stuffing my face. I want to be able to get outdoors, to garden, to shovel snow, to have a game of catch in the back yard, to hang a basketball net in the driveway. I want to get a dog and go for walks. I want to decorate and redecorate. I want to try, I want to do.

He could have been a part of all of that. I thought he would be a part of all that. But there was more, the stuff I kept deep inside. I want to be kissed, not a smooch or a peck but a real, honest to goodness kiss. I want to be touched, to be felt, to be appreciated and acknowledged. I want change and adventure and different. 

The same is suffocating to me; change sends him into a frenzy. We have had a good time together. It is time for it to end.


Ugs & Kisses

Unionguy kissed me! Just a peck on his way out the door but still. He kissed me. On the lips – hello! He hugged me twice, hello and goodbye. It’s odd – he’s 13 years older than me but he makes me feel 14. Dreaming of maybes and giddy with anticipation.

He texted to see if I was at work but I was on my way to the house so I told him to visit me there instead. He did. And we explored the place for over an hour. He was was more interested than Miul ever was. Not a shock, certainly, but a very nice and welcome change. At one point he was on the floor in the bathroom looking at the sink connection and I just stopped. That is the type of man I want. I really like him; looks like it might be possible he feels the same way. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.

This is my last weekend in the apartment with Miul and Gem. I’m pretty stressed about it, to be honest. I feel bad to be hurting Gem this way. Miul too, I guess. I gave them 5 years – that’s a lot, isn’t it? I keep surprising myself with memories of frustrations pushed aside and hurts swept under the carpet. I don’t regret a single moment but I’m so glad those moments will end soon. So relieved.

It completely pisses me off that he continues to come on to me, btw. It doesn’t matter how many times I say no, how hard I push him away, how many times he’s pushed it so far I’ve cried. It’s a sad homage to our relationship, though. I’ve been invisible, the only needs that mattered were his. It wasn’t intentional but it is a life I’m eager to leave behind.

Four more days.

At least I have some butterflies in my belly to get me through. *teehee*


After my morning shower he comes into the bathroom. Grabbing. Pressing against me. Every single day I say stop, don’t do that, I don’t want that. He doesn’t relent until I yell. And I think “soon.”

It’s time to leave work and catch myself wondering what I can do to avoid going home, where could I go, what somewhat valid reason can I find to avoid him. As I have been doing for so long I stopped noticing. And I think “soon.”

I walk into the apartment, clothes strewn on the furniture, kitchen a mess, he is slumped in his recliner. Drunk. Stoned. Passed out. I stop and wait for movement, noise, a sign of life. I dont want to leave him dead on the floor as his mother did his dad, and I have laundry to do. And I think “soon.”

The childishness, the mood swings, the selfishness; the frustration, the discomfort, the defeat. Soon. Soon. Soon.

I will get there, I’m sure of it now. Six years are over. I will be free.


The relief I feel makes me sad. But soon it will be a memory. That makes me feel happy again. Soon. I. Will. Be. Free. And alone and poor and bored. But free.


It’s all over but the crying

There was a moment last night, while Gem cried in my arms as Miul looked on, that I thought What have I done!?

Am I sure this is what I want? Do I understand what I am giving up? Do I realize the struggles I am taking on?? But the answers were yes, yes, and yes. This is right.

I told him when he came home from work on Wednesday. It wasn’t my intention to spring it on him like that but he was going to therapy in the afternoon so I thought it might be a good time.

And it was, really. It needed to be said, we needed the break to start the healing.

He’s okay. He thinks he can’t handle it but he can, he will. I tested this five years ago, before I moved here, before I fell in I made certain he could heal if I fell out. Gem will be okay too. They will hate me some day, I expect. They have every right to do so. I just want them to heal and be better for this. As I will heal, I will be better for this.

I’ll go first.



Unionguy came to see me today. I texted to ask about the house electrical, gave me some good advice. I thanked him for his time. He said he was going to take a mid-day break and visit his mom. I told him to stop in and say hello if he had time. Which he did. And he texted me when he was delayed to say when I can expect him. Because that’s how his mom raised him.

We chatted for a while. I told him I had been packing up my apartment and stumbled across a bunch of skeletons in the closet. He said he had gone through a similar patch with his girlfriend and he wasn’t smart enough to take the out.

Then a little chime rang and reminded him he had to be in the city (to teach ???!) in two hours. He was all flustered and got up to leave. Before he walked out he called out to me (I was talking to someone by the courier) and said “don’t worry, we’ll get you all fixed up” or some awesome sauce like that. Panty wetting, that fella.

Then I went to the house. And while I was there I decided I’m doing this. I’m doing this! Mil will have to become Miul, Man I Used to Love.

I feel really happy right now.

Ima go rub one out and sleep on it. 🙆



Tonight I realized I was ready to make a choice. But life, actual day to day life with him isn’t bad. No word on what that choice will actually be. Although I do sense our inevitable decline is upon us. Either way, this isn’t going to be pretty.

I used to think that was okay

This isn’t the life I want to live. The not-really-wife of some dude who slugs from seat to seat, complaining, everything hurts, everything is bad? He hates his job and he’s mad at something someone said on the internet, someone else got fired, someone else got conned, another killed himself. And now I have to listen to him saying that now he has to listen to everyone talk about how they were affected by the latest tragedy; ultimately it turns out that everyone should have known he was affected the greatest.

He has nightmares and trouble sleeping and PTSD and anxiety and a bazillion other problems/issues and he just won’t do anything about them. He won’t drive, desperately needed a bike he has never ridden, expects to be carted around town by me, his brother and sometimes his mother if he’s feeling especially gracious enough to spend time with her.

There is no acceptance that life can be hard sometimes in his world (although I guarantee you he would deny that). I’m sorry, I know he has had a hard life, I know he suffers. But he makes it so much more of a deal than it should be. He was raised 1/2 victim, 1/2 hero, and no one was ever able to tell him which part of his life was which. Spoiler alert: I think it’s opposite day.

He’s smart, so smart. And he has this amazing life story that he won’t discuss with anyone. How much of it is true? How much is fabricated? He is the most important person in the room at all times and expects to be the center of attention, yet I think he has real struggles with being kind to himself.

He resents me for still being here sometimes, I think. He ignores me until I’m angry and then asks me if I love him. And follows me around begging or shouting until I say the words he wants to hear. It’s getting harder and harder to say yes. Then he tells me I’m an asshole and I remind of him of his abusive father and he has to walk on eggshells around me. Then he begs me to not leave, to give him just one more try.

He recently stopped having temper tantrums, although it’s only a matter of time before another computer is smashed or a demolished suitcase leaves a big black mark on the ceiling. One more Kuerig against the kitchen wall, one more episode of him throwing himself to the floor in protest of all of the things in life that have wronged him. Take me to the hospital, he says. I need to go to the hospital.

His daughter comes to visit for four days a month and he spends two of them drunk. And by drunk, I mean comatose. Not that he’s much more present when he’s sober. He says he loves her more than his own life, but he doesn’t seem to have the temperament to give that much to someone else. 

He is still doing the same job he got when we moved in together. It’s a night job and he hates it and wants to call in sick every day. He takes vacation days we can’t afford and comes home in the middle of the night because he can’t stop throwing up, and doesn’t throw up even one more time. 

I don’t usually talk mean about him. I don’t tell anyone this stuff. I might tell someone that he punched me square in the middle of the chest during a bad dream once but I don’t mention that he takes close to 100 Tylenol 1s every day and drowns himself in generic nighttime cold medication when he drinks (I don’t understand why but I’m sure there’s some kind of interaction going on). Then he tells everyone he used to be an addict but he isn’t anymore.

I honestly feel he has every right to be the person he is and feel the way he does. Every. Right. But I also have every right to be who I am and who I want to be. And while I appreciate his attempt to help me better myself by reminding me of my faults and I think it comes from a good place, I have no faith in his observation or judgement anymore. That’s really bad. I don’t know if I can come back from this. The scary part is that, more and more, I don’t want to.



Late night/early morning thoughts

1. The litter smells really bad. Dude at the store convinced me to try a new kind, said it was better than what we were using. I should have known better because what we were using was Phenomenal, with a capital Ph.

Go get some.


2. Today I made a comment, as per usual, expressing my ambition to become the GM at a retirement community. Nine year old Gem asked why. She said, “You always talk about being the manager… why do you want that job so much?” Her father made a comment along the lines of me being a control freak and wanting to call the shots. The answer I gave when asked this by my colleagues has been “Because I’m going to be really good at it” but that didn’t feel sufficient so I thought it out.

I said “Because it will be challenging. Most of the jobs I’ve had were very easy for me but this job would be different every day, I will have to try harder and learn more and push myself beyond the things I have already accomplished. That makes me very excited.”

3. Ironically, I decided last night to put that ambition on the back burner for a bit while I kick some major ass in this sales role and work to make our new (60 years old but new to us) house a home.

4. I need to go back to bed. My 3-6am sleeplessness mess of a habit is complete for another night.


Tonight, while wandering through the house we’re moving to, we noticed a pretty big problem. I’m sure it was the absolute top of the line when it was built 50 years ago, but it hasn’t been upgraded since. Which means the electrical outlets have only two prongs, no third grounding. I don’t think that’s even legal but I’m pretty sure it isn’t safe.

Ironically, I do know an electrician; I might have referred to him here from time to time. You’ll know him as Unionguy. I’m sure he would be more than happy to come over and take a look for me. Unfortunately, when I imagine him there it invariably ends with me mounting him on the living room sofa. Exciting, yet prolly not a great idea.

You know I’m going to ask for him help anyway. I’m a grown woman, I think I can control myself. Maybe. But I’m certainly going to spend the weekend getting off to fantasies of him controlling me, if you know what I mean.

In case you were wondering

I called him today. I finally found a valid excuse and went for it.

One of our new residents is selling her home and trying to sell her husband’s old hunting trophies. We were chatting about what she should do with them and, while we had a couple of ideas, we really didn’t know where to start. Unionguy knows everything about everything, okay? And he is patient and kind and giving and stuff like that.

So I sent a text to say I needed his advice when he had a few moments to chat. He called, even though he is involved in some deal that has a bazillion workers and they’re getting down to the nitty-gritty. He’ll tell me about it later, no doubt, but no time to chat today. He said he would take them if they’re free, but no, she wants to see if they have value. I asked about auctions (which he thought was a good idea, btw) and we chatted about options and ideas.

As we neared the end of the conversation, I asked him what he would do with them if she was giving them away and he said he would hang them in his office. I said he could tell everyone about his very successful hunting trip; he said he’d rather tell them about the old lady who moved into a retirement residence and had to find a new home for them when she sold her house, because that’s far more interesting.


Or he could tell the story of how he shot his friend on a hunting trip and the third friend stayed while he ran for help. When he got back his friend asked if he did a good job and Unionguy said it would have been better if he didn’t gut and hang him. I was totally following along and enthralled until I realized it was a joke. I told him he was funny, he told me I was cute (I totally made that part up), and we parted ways with him saying he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to come for his mom for some reason but he wasn’t sure that that was, okay bye.

I’m going to ask him to look at the electrical in the house (he is actually an electrician. I’m pretty sure). After I’m going to ask him to sit down, I’m going to offer him a cold beverage, and then I am going to ask him all about what went into organizing this huge union thing-a-ma-bobber he mentioned today. I might even rub my boobs against him during an innocent hug goodbye, we’ll see how things go.


Point of interest:  I saw a new picture of him yesterday when I stalked his Facebook and I instantly calmed. Attraction is weird, so strong and physical, but also logical and fun.

Other point of interest: Today I was thinking about how I was blabbering on about him and the whole situation last night, and then I realized that I always seem to fall in love when I am stressed and facing change. It’s been a part of leaving, sometimes much much more important than the person I was leaving. I just say I have to leave, I don’t say no one is allowed to come with.


Also? I think he would be knocked flat on his ass to know someone thinks about him as much and as often as I do. Age and experience tell me that someone out there is thinking as much and as often about me. I sure hope it’s him. 😊