Desperately Wanting, Part IPosted: December 12, 2014
I had Confession with Papa Bear. It went better than I could have hoped. I told him everything–my fears, regrets, failures, and indiscretions. He did not grimace with shock, shake his head, or become speechless. He did not judge me. The most negative reaction he had was tearing up with I told him about the time I was raped.
The next day he told me he would love me forever. I told him I thought we knew there weren’t any guarantees to this–that we have what we have for as long as we have it.
He said “You opened your heart to me. How can I stop loving you now?”
Things are serious.
The other night at dinner he told me that both he and Wifey feel that their “other” relationships are just as important as their marriage. He feels equally responsible for me as he does for her. That rocked my entire world.
He has used the word “secondary” in the past to describe our relationship, and though I didn’t like it, I thought that’s where we’d landed. So to hear that he is as committed to our relationship as he is to his marriage? I can’t really describe how that makes me feel. It’s not entirely a good feeling, but not entirely a bad one. It’s more. . .anxiety. Questioning. Not understanding how this can even be.
I feel like we are going somewhere dangerous. If you tell me I’m as important as your wife, will I want to be treated as though I am? Will it hurt more that we do not co-habitate? Will it annoy me when our date nights are arranged around her schedule? When she has a say in what we do, or don’t do, and when we do or don’t do it? I get serious and my heart starts to grasp. It wants. It needs to stop wanting.
In so many ways I feel like I can never compare to the Wifey. She is brilliant in ways that I am not. She cooks from scratch, makes her own soap, spins wool, and is a freelance designer who has actually had her work featured in stores. She also works full time as a manager for a not for profit organization and is supermodel tall, and slender, and pretty damn cute. I find her totally intimidating, even though she has welcomed me with open arms and we have bonded to a certain degree.
Funnily enough, Papa Bear says that when she was my age she felt that same way I do–that her self-esteem was rock bottom. So I suppose if there is hope for her, there is hope for me too! Anyway, since opening their marriage Papa Bear and the Wifey have become so much more connected and intimate and in love. The love they feel for their “others” has overflowed into their own marriage. They have a fantastic sex life and are madly in love with one another, plus they have 20+ years of history that I will obviously never be able to catch up with. The more serious things get with Papa Bear, the more in her shadow I have felt.
Last night I had a moment, and today I had another. Moment number one was triggered when I texted Papa Bear to ask him if he’d planned anything for our date for Saturday night yet. We had talked about doing something kinda “out there” but not landed on anything, and he said he’d come up with something. I love it how he plans our dates and then just tells me what we’re doing. It makes me feel so safe and secure. (Though of course, I am welcome to make suggestions–plenty of our dates are my idea!)
He said he hadn’t–that he’d think about it after Date Night was over. He meant his date night with his wife. They were going to an art gallery. It was a totally innocent thing to say and I shouldn’t have cared, but to me it felt like, “Yeah, when I’m done with my date with my ACTUAL WIFE, then I’ll have time for you.” It gave me the ickies. And then to add insult to injury, he didn’t text me good night. He always does. Always, always, always. I waited up, listening to “Goodnight” by Fevers and obsessively refreshing my Facebook page and checking my phone, but eventually I gave up on hearing from him. I wasn’t going to text, but then I worried that something might have happened, so I texted in the hopes that I’d get a reply. (I constantly worry that people I love are in danger, btw–once The Husband was three hours late coming home from class and I sobbed in the bathroom basically penning his eulogy in my head. True story.)
“She said, ‘don’t leave me all alone without at least a goodnight.’ “
This morning when I woke up I was in a full panic. “Papa Bear!” I texted.
“Baby! I am so sorry I didn’t say Goodnight last night. I felt sick when I realized.”
Well, at least he was okay. I know this is a minor infraction–in fact, it does not even qualify as an infraction at all. But it made me feel a little sick. . .We chatted all day as usual, and after work I asked him how his day was.
He said “Really fucking amazing!” and my heart dropped.
Oh goddamn. Her.
Not his wife.
(Stay tuned for Part II)