Confessions

So I told my husband about Berlin. Not the details. Just that there had been a man I had had a relationship with, and it ended. He asked me what happened and I told him.

"He was in love with someone else."
"So why was he seeing you then?" He asked.
I shrugged. Good question.

He knew all along that there was someone else.
"You didn't come home for days at a time. What was I supposed to think?"
"I know."
" I didn't ask you because I didn't think it mattered. If I had had the opportunity, I would have done the same thing."

He really seemed to take it all in stride.

Ultimately the reason I told him was because I didn't want to make the same mistake twice. I don't want to be with anyone who thinks I'm less than spectacular. I want to go to bed every night with a man who can't imagine life without me. With a man who singles me out in a crowded room. I want to be the person he can't get off his mind. The one he wants to have babies with and protect and comfort. And as much as my husband loves me, and I do think he loves me, I'm not sure he loves me like THAT. So I had to tell him. I had to explain that if he couldn't love me in the way I needed - wholly, completely, recklessly - then I needed to move on. I couldn't settle for less.

He didn't seem to understand.
"Do you really need someone to be falling all over you all the time?" he asked me.
I sighed.
"Of course not. I just don't want someone who thinks I'm sweet and nice, but loves me in the same way they love their dog. I want to be more than a pleasant companion. I want a soul mate. I want to be the love of somebody's life."
Why doesn't he understand this???

"I think we're doing the right thing ."
"You do?" I asked
"I'm not a happy person. On a good day - like Sunday - I can be with you and relax. Enjoy your company. But that's not what I'm like every day."
I nodded.
"I don't think I can give you what you're looking for. At least not now. I have to think of myself."

I was suddenly balling uncontrollably again. It was true. He didn't love me either. Was I so impossible to love? How did I manage to get myself married to a man who didn't think I was worth fighting for? How could he just let me go so easily? And Berlin? He just walked away too. Never looked back. Never missed me. Was this the best I could do? Was this all I was worth to the people I'd given everything to? How had I managed to sink so low? How could my love mean so little?

My obvious and abrupt anguish sparked an argument. We were suddenly rehashing all the problems that led us to this point. The money, his smoking, the lack of communication. He said making decisions with me was always a burden. I balked.

"It was such a great feeling to buy this TV," He pointed to the new LCD TV he bought after I left and took the TV (that I bought) with me. "Because I didn't have to consult anyone. I didn't have to ask permission or discuss the best brand, I just got what I wanted."
"The house, the car, my clothes - everything I did I had to take you into consideration."

I could understand the pleasure of not having to answer to anyone but yourself, but his words were like a knife in my chest. Why wasn't I helpful in these decisions? Why didn't he see me as an asset? I pointed out that couples had to make decisions on big purchases together. Why did he think he should be allowed to make those decisions by himself? But what's more, why didn't he want me by his side to help, to be a team?

I came there thinking that by telling him about Berlin, I would feel better. I thought that I would be stronger and more able to move on if I knew that all this talk of rebuilding was coming from a reflex to take care of me - not from a place of real, and deep love. Not because he couldn't live without me. But instead I felt worse than ever. I was just a pleasant way to pass the time. I was dispensable. Not just for the man I had had an affair with, but for the man I had married and given the last 14 years to.