Pity Party: Table For One

I had a great time over the weekend.

We celebrated the birthday of a friend at our local wattering hole.  I allowed myself a drink, or three.
Something fruity, and it sounded a little bit naughty: Sex on the Beach.  Not what I was expecting.
I thought it would be more like a pina colada: coconuty like suntan lotion.

Usually, I prefer Tequila Sunrises. I had ordered my first one back in college, based soley on the Eagles song and it has been a favorite drink ever since.

My Bloody Mary obsession is a hold over from college as well. I haven't had a decent Bloody Mary since the last ATO party I had attended. Tippin' my hat to a bartender named John, but the guys had called Scooter, who made the best Bloody Mary I'd ever had. I have never had another as good. Ironically, I ran into John again, when I was married to The #1 Ex. He had worked for the same company I did and was assigned to the same store set.  I wished I had gotten that Bloody Mary recipe.

But I digress.

What is it about being slighty tipsy with a group of your friends that makes everyone start to run off at the mouth?  Everyone started to talk about D/H and some of his antics over the years and why I had never caught on.

I found out that he had made a pass at one of them, in her home, while her husband (one of his oldest friends) was out of town on business. I found out that he slept with one my friends, at the home where she was sitting with her dying uncle. That there was photographic evidence on his phone of nearly every tryst. I found out that he had hit on nearly ALL of my friends. I found out that he was persuing anything with a pulse, throwing out passes to see who would return them. How funny that people are so willing to share now, after keeping his secrets for so long.

The subject of a football party in September was brought up. I had not felt well and had asked for somewhere to lay down. Because I couldn't watch the game because of "the jinx" anyway, it wouldn't have mattered if I had cat-napped or not.  The Host offered me his bed and closed the door behind him. I had laid there about 10 minutes when D/H had come in. He climbed into bed with me and began trying to undress me. I couldn't believe he would be so brazen! I was mortified! How DISRESPECTFUL! We were in someone else's house! In someone else's BED! How could he have thought so little of his friend by doing such a thing! I pushed him away and told him that this was just something one didn't do: don't disrespect one's friends that way.  He left in a huff, slamming the door behind him. What I didn't know, was that after he slammed the door, he addressed the living room of shocked friends with "Now you see why I cheat on her."

It's little things like this that make me glad that he is gone.  But my heart still hurts. I think it will hurt for a very long time. How do you turn off loving someone after seventeen years?  Seventeen Years.  Not seventeen days, not seventeen months, ...SEVENTEEN YEARS.

This coming Thursday, the 27th, will mark just two months since he suddenly walked out of my life, with no warning that there was any problem. How easily he had walked away from the life we had cultivated together.I am still asking myself why. I still don't understand how he could walk away so easily. like I didn't exist. I understand that he had "moved on", before he moved out, but I had not. I was very much in love with him. I guess that I still am. That is why this hurts so much.

How exactly does one "move on" from a SEVENTEEN YEAR relationship after screwing someone for only four (4, quatro, vier, fire, quatre, shi)  months? Does that even seem possible?

It's easy: COMMITMENT meant NOTHING to him. Commitment to me, commitment to The First Ex-Wife, even committment to High School Girlfriend. He was never truly committed in ANY of his relationships.

I've had someone say to me "Wow,  you aren't over that yet."  How exactly am I supposed to "get over it" already?  What kind of relationships do people have these days?  It was not a disposable relationship. It was not a fling. It was about more than just sex, like his current relationship is.  It was a commitment to one another. It was a marriage.

Everyone acts like I could just turn it off like a switch.  How exactly does one " get over" the person they loved for seventeen years? It doesn't happen overnight. Little things continue to remind you of things that you shared over SEVENTEEN YEARS: Songs on the radio, the dvd of your favorite movie, the recording of our wedding, different sights, and smells.

What kind of person would I be if I could forget D/H so easily?

Well,  I guess I could be D/H.

I think about the mistress. I wonder if she thinks about the part that she played in the destruction of our RELATIONSHIP of SEVENTEEN YEARS. Did she not consider her own actions, as well as his,  caused a problem with our relationship?

The relationship that I had with my husband, where I was blissfully unaware of her, or that he was even unhapp,y because he was still telling me that he loved me, trying to make love to me, or even just kissing me, all while lying to my face everyday.  How does one just cut off SEVENTEEN YEARS?  I wonder what she tells herself so that she can lay down, and sleep next to him each night.

It can't be the line that we were "the love of his life." He's sold that line to all of us. I found that he called also all of us "his beauty/ his queen/ his trophy."  That we all, in one way or another, had made him "the happiest man alive." I happen to hold the record.  I had done it the longest.

What kind of woman pursues another woman's husband? Apparently, a dilusional one with little or no self-esteem. She thinks so little of herself that she will "make do" with whatever comes along. That she would willingly pursue a relationship with a man, so willing to lie and cheat on the woman to whom he promised, before the Lord of Hosts, to love, honor, and cherish.  She is dilusional if she thinks that she can "change" him. She is dilusional if she thinks he won't do it to her too.

It is HIS pattern. It's just a matter of time.

It only took him SEVENTEEN YEARS to do it to me.

Pity Party: Table for One