Today, I met with (wait for it) my wife’s boyfriend’s wife. It is a sure sign of how fucked up our culture can be that such a sentence could even be written, let alone be so completely true.
I’ve heard it said more than once, “no matter how hot she may look to you now, someone, somewhere is tired of putting up with her shit.” C__ could be the poster-girl as far as I’m concerned — tall, beautiful, with a body that’d make you question the legitimacy of her supposed motherhood to two kids. I’ve heard stories that she’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she made it through law school alright, and I didn’t detect her hitting any speed-bumps during our little chat today. K__ herself has repeatedly pointed out how lucky T__ was to snag such a catch, and I wonder what in the hell he’s smoking that his own lawn looked anything but the greenest on the block. It’s probably neither fair nor appropriate to compare his to mine, but it’s also unavoidable. I was plenty happy thank you very much, so I don’t want it to sound like I’m slagging on the woman I chose to marry. It’s just that from where I sit, it’s his blade that could do with the sharpening.
Frankly, that very detail, though on the periphery of my own troubles, continues to haunt me even now. Since I know that him choosing my wife over his own is preposterous (again, no disrespect meant), and I know that both of them repeatedly denied that anything (well, much) serious was going on, doesn’t that logically lend some credibility to the claim? At least, in absence of further evidence?
Also, I learned during our talk today that they are officially, publicly dating now. I suppose that’s a good thing. It has long been my fear that their tryst was purely sexual (at least for T__, whether he was aware of it or not), and that once his lust had been thoroughly quenched, he’d pull a standard asshole maneuver and “suddenly” realize he could do “better”. This concern is so strong, and stretches back so far, that when I called his cell phone all those months ago to confront him, the message I left wasn’t threatening or anything like that — it was to ask as nicely as I knew how that he be careful with her. I’m not sure if he’d even know what I meant — and it’s another matter entirely whether he’d oblige me if he did.
I told C__ today that I’d hoped to have my gut instincts validated, since K__ never really came clean about anything. She’s clung on to a fleeting shred of innocence all along as far as I’m concerned. She stopped denying, but she didn’t start admitting either. Apparently that’s been T__’s game-plan too, so instead of some idea of when temptation turned to actual sin, I just got more hints and speculation.
…
This evening when I picked I__ up, I told K__ we needed to revisit our financial arrangement. I expected some token resistance, but she agreed, at least in principle. Everyone who cares about me wants to know why it is that I’m sustaining her lifestyle, and I’ve run out of answers. As the months have drug on, it’s gotten a lot worse. The initial logic went something like this: As a married couple, everything is justifiably shared, including the household income, regardless of who brings it home. True, we’d separated, but the final goal was (supposedly) reconciliation, and it wouldn’t make much sense for me to say that out of one side of my mouth while cutting her off financially with the other. Now that divorce is looking like the obvious end-point, all that needs to be reevaluated. Badly. And soon.
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