Apr 192016


P is for Pressure, for my A to Z Challenge. Written two months ago. If I were to edit this, it would be to add the note that I decided within three days to move all my belongings and family due to five factors:

  1. my husband was across the country 
  2. our marriage wasn’t doing good
  3. Since he was across the country because he got out of the military, we no longer had medical insurance
  4. he wasn’t going to call the military and get them to move his family (I’d given up hope after six months of this phone call not being made)
  5. I could get a job in a state I wanted to work in with great benefits, including medical insurance

I drove across the country, literally from one coast to the other, with my family and what belongings I could take. I only stopped to sleep, get gas, and food. I was exhausted but pushed on, rushing because I was finally going to moving in with my husband and I had job interviews to make.

Every time he talked to me, he mentioned how hard it was for him to know that soon he wouldn’t see his girlfriend all the time, how great his girlfriend was, how soon I would meet her, asking how soon I would allow them to see each other all the time again. He told me the night before I was to arrive that she sent me a message asking when I would meet her so that I would be fine with them.

Five hours before I arrived, 42 hours later on the road, he told me that some kink events I wanted to go to I couldn’t, because I was a bad person, because he went to those things with her and it just wasn’t right that we would be going instead of him with her.

I told him, exhausted and really tired of every mile closer to him getting more negative about my arrival because of what it meant to their relationship, that I didn’t want him to have a relationship with her anymore. I asked him to stop all together, all communication, for at least several months so that we could reconnect and establish a solid foundation so that when he pursued polyamory again, it was healthier and happier.

He told me he didn’t want to but would, after unsuccessfully trying to get me change my mind.

Four hours to him, 43 almost nonstop hours later on the road, and he told me that he didn’t want me to come, that he changed his mind, that he simply could not end things with her, that he didn’t want to. He called himself selfish, said his happiness was the most important thing to him right now, that he compromised so much in our marriage that he wasn’t willing to do it anymore.

“It’s not about her,” he told me, which I believe is a lie. “We could break up and I wouldn’t care. I would find someone else. This is me. This is who you created. You forced this down my throat and now I’m going to do this.”

“I’ve done this, I’ve stopped it for our marriage,” I countered, thinking back to when I tried polyamory and he asked me to cease all communication – which I did.

“Some people are just more willing to sacrifice than others. I’m not willing. I’m not going to do this.”

“I have to come by this point. There’s no where else, it’s late, and I have our family. I’m only four hours away. I can’t believe this.” Remember I also was not alone in the car, hearing all these one sided tear-filled conversations that I simply couldn’t hide, though I did a poor job of trying as distraught as I was (something I regret).

I dropped off kids with family – not wanting them to see the argument that he promised, showed up where he was staying.

“I don’t want you. I don’t fucking like you. You hear that? I don’t fucking like you.” Those were the words that greeted me the minute I walked in the door, as he walked away from me as if he was afraid I would touch him.

“Okay,” I replied wearily, stripping down. “Do you want to take a shower with me? Because I’m taking a shower. I’ve been on the road for three days straight and I need a shower.”

“Did you hear what I said?  You still want to shower with me?! Why?”

“Because I need a shower, and because your mind is made up and there’s no use talking about it right this second.”

He looked at me incredulously, but stripped down and joined me in the shower. The whole time he was telling me how horrible I was, how I ruined our marriage, how I did this to us, how I forced us into non monogamy and now I wanted monogamy.

Soap on our bodies against as vast a distance as possible in a shower. “Why? Why now? Why when this whole time I wanted monogamy do you now want it?” He was so angry.

“Because we clearly can’t handle anything other than that, and what I want most in life is you and our future together,” I said wearily, barely aware of the heat from the stream of water cascading on my beaten down body. “I’m sorry you feel like I forced this. I did it all with your permission, I wouldn’t have otherwise, but I’m sorry I kept pushing the agenda.”

“You hurt me. Do you hear me? You hurt me!”

“I’m so sorry, that was never my intent. I can be monogamous, truly I can, because above all, I want you and our future.”

“I don’t trust that. You always said you wanted to connect to others. Why would this be different?”

Clean bodies, clouded minds. “Because I want you above all else. But I understand that you don’t trust that, I respect that. But where do we go from here?”

“I’m going to have a relationship with her. It may get very serious. She may live with us.”

He’s known her 2.5 weeks.

“You can’t take a couple months break and commit to our marriage?”

“No, I don’t even know that I want our marriage. I don’t like you. You hurt me. I’m not giving up anything for you.”

My brain cried silently at all the sacrifices I’ve made to our family by moving them around, my financial security by changing jobs constantly, my loss of friends and social life, the isolation and loneliness so deeply felt at times. I simply said, “okay. Then we’ve no where else to go. I want you to take a break, you don’t want to.”

I leaned up, threw my arms around his wet body, and kissed him. He returned the kiss, desperately, angrily, his teeth ground into my lips, his body pressed mine roughly against the cold tile wall. His fingers dipped down and finger fucked me roughly, almost lifted my body off the ground with just that pressure.

He gripped my hair and forced me down to my knees, roughly fucked my face, moved and positioned me to rim him, the water drowning me between his cheeks.

We got out of the shower, a sopping mess, and tripped our way to the bed, bodies and mouths intertwined. I straddled him and bit his neck, sucked. “God I forgot how good you were at this. So fucking good. I love how you can be so rough and not leave a mark.”

He arched into my mouth, stroked himself between my legs. I moved lower, wrapped my mouth around his arousal, my fingers dipped lower.

“Grab the lube. I want you fist me.”

“I can’t fist you, you try to break my hand,” I protested, but attempted it nonetheless while my mouth sucked.

“God you’re going to make me cum before we even have sex,” he moaned, and pushed me on my stomach, roughly entered me. I orgasmed immediately. I tightened in the pleasure and the need to hold him in some way and never let him go. “Don’t you fucking tighten,” he ordered, and I relaxed despite the orgasms, until he finally commanded I tighten and make him cum.

Right afterwards, he pushed me away and complained that it was always about sex for me. He told me to not touch him, that we were divorcing, that he couldn’t be with me any longer.

Despite my begging, bargaining, pleading, I woke up the next morning and left to a town half a day away where other family might take me in, with my few precious belongings and even more precious broken family, knowing he wouldn’t change his mind. I didn’t know what else to do as exhausted and heartbroken as I was.

Could you see the signs, dear readers? Because I was blindsided. And angry that he had me move our family before turning us away right when we arrived.

He claims it’s because I demanded he stop seeing his girlfriend within hours of my arrival, but he kept telling me after we had sex how he’s known for years that I killed our relationship with my demand to open it up to polyamory, and he can never forgive me, doesn’t want to. If he knew for years, why did he wait until he had a girlfriend and his family transitioning to see him before saying something?

 Posted by at 8:00 am

  3 Responses to “Driving”

  1. Because he’s a coward. He cannot be alone. He first needed someone to replace you before he could move on, because he cannot be alone. He’s weak. And, there’s another reason why I think he’s a coward. If he had known for so long, he should have done the adult thing and talk about it. Then you would not have pursued the things you did, because you wanted to grow old with him. You didn’t kill the marriage. He did.

    Rebel xox

  2. What Rebel Said. He’s a liner-upper. He needed to have your replacement lined up before ditching you.

  3. My god, how awful and devastating. I know that there will be more to the story than what you’ve written, but he seems like a grade-A asshole. I’m so sorry that you had to go through this.

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