And that’s when I snapped.Posted: May 10, 2015
I don’t even know how to start this post.
I mean, I LITERALLY CAN’T EVEN.
I feel petty, which is just about the worst thing to feel like you are being.
But a camel can only support so many straws before it just collapses in defeat.
I am so tired.
I am tired of Papa Bear’s wife’s needs, and her rules, and her demands.
We still have the rule about weekends. The rule that states that Papa Bear spends Sundays until 5 PM with The Wifey, and that he takes her to breakfast and then to work on Saturday mornings. This effectively means that he and I never get to sleep in together and snuggle in the morning if I stay over on a Friday night–and I am flat out not welcome to sleep over on Saturday nights, period.
If we want to have a morning together (because we obviously don’t get weekday mornings–those are The Wifey’s, too), then we need to let her know a few weeks in advance so she can adjust and be okay with it. Okay, fine. On Friday night, Papa Bear asked if I would like to spend the night, and I said I’d pass. I can sleep in, if I sleep at home. I can wake up with my husband and my kids. I am not trading that in for nothing.
I thought perhaps I’d just keep saying no, until Papa Bear got the hint. But instead, I told him how I felt. This is when he came up with the idea of letting The Wifey know well in advance, so she wouldn’t blow her stack. We’ll see if that ever actually materializes.
Yesterday, we had a very typical situation happen. Papa Bear wanted to spend some time with me during the day. It was FINALLY sunny and warm, after having a snow storm last week (In May. Kill me.), and I was desperate to celebrate the beginning of patio season. I need sun the way I need sex, and I’d told him that ALL I wanted was a chance to sit outside and eat on a patio. I had suggested around 4 PM, because I wanted to spend the morning and afternoon with the kids. He informed me sometime that morning that we’d have to pick up The Wifey from work at 5:30, and also, that she’d invited us for dinner. He asked how I felt about the dinner idea. I said okay–as long as we still got our patio time. I suggested we get drinks and appetizers, and then we could have dinner after. So that was the plan.
We got down to the popular part of town, and it was a zoo. It is where The Wifey works, so we usually end up down there so that Papa Bear can park behind her work. This time when we got there, all the parking spaces were taken, so Papa Bear parked behind one of The Wifey’s co-workers–totally blocking her in. He texted The Wifey to ask if that was okay, and she came outside to talk to him, saying that it was fine, but her co-worker was going to want to leave right at 5:30, so we’d have to make sure we weren’t late. It was already after four.
We walked around in desperate search for a venue that had a patio with available seating, but most places said it would be at least an hour’s wait. We finally happened upon an Irish pub with space, so that’s where we went. We had about an hour, maybe 45 minutes, by this point.
And that’s when The Wifey texted to say she’d decided to walk home, and we wouldn’t have to pick her up after all. But we were still blocking in her co-worker, so we’d have to be back by 5:30 regardless. We ordered a couple of drinks and a plate of nachos, and waited, and waited. Eventually our drinks came, but the food was still nowhere to be seen by 5:10. We had 20 minutes.
I suggested that maybe Papa Bear could go move the car, and then come back and we could eat there instead of at his place, since we’d ordered food that had failed to materialize. Papa Bear said we couldn’t–that we said we’d be there for dinner, and we couldn’t cancel–even if it didn’t work for us anymore–because The Wifey would be upset.
I was frustrated. First, when we’d made our plans, he hadn’t told me that bringing The Wifey home from work was part of the deal. I would have suggested we meet earlier if that was the case. Then, we ran out of time because every patio was completely swamped with people who also just wanted to be in the sun after 7 MONTHS OF WINTER, and instead of being able to just have a nice, leisurely afternoon, we had to rush because The Wifey would flip her shit if we changed our plans–whether we still had to pick her up or not. The food finally came at 5:15, and we had 10 minutes to hurriedly stuff our faces before abandoning half the platter and racing back to move the car. Then Papa Bear said we had to stop at the grocery store on the way home, because he’d promised The Wifey he’d have a snack waiting for her when they got home.
Really? This is our date, which I graciously agreed to share part of with her, but she’s already making demands?
So we did that–I waited in the car, because fuck that noise.
We got back to Papa Bear’s house, which was freezing, as always. I was bitterly missing the sun. Papa Bear brought me a blanket, but I was still cold. When The Wifey got home she asked him to get her a glass of wine, and while he did that, she told me I should go sit outside in the sun.
I decided that I would. I told Papa Bear where I was going, and he said he’d go with me, but then The Wifey said she’d be lonely while she was “making us dinner.” When Papa Bear again, indicated that he was going to go with me, The Wifey said “Seriously!? You’re going to bail on me?”
So I put Papa Bear out of his misery and told him he could go ahead and stay inside. Then I went out into the backyard. Every few minutes Papa Bear came out to check on me, and it was…awkward…watching him very obviously struggle to keep two women happy. Eventually he asked me to come inside. I asked him why.
“Because I want you with me,” he said.
“And I want to be in the sun…as promised,” I replied.
I remembered last Sunday, when Papa Bear told me that he and The Wifey were barbecuing and sitting on the deck, drinking red wine. I had been so jealous. He said he wished I was there, too. And now I was, but he wasn’t.
The coolness in the house wasn’t the only reason things were frosty.
Dinner was ready. I went inside, and we ate. I was pleasant and chatty, because good manners dictate that I not ruin everyone’s dinner or make everyone uncomfortable just because I was peeved. But Papa Bear took that as me being “over it”, and stopped apologizing for ruining our night. He asked if I wanted to go back to the patio, but it was starting to get chilly, and I was wearing a skirt, and hadn’t brought a jacket. We had already missed our prime window.
We talked about watching a movie or going shopping, but I have a sprained ankle and had already used up my allotment of pain-free walking for the day. And we couldn’t agree on a movie. Papa Bear rubbed my ass and kind of tried to see if I wanted to fuck, but I was not in the mood, and ended up just falling asleep.
Before that happened, Papa Bear got a text from The Wifey, asking if he’d confirmed with a friend who was supposed to be coming for dinner the following night. Papa Bear had asked if I wanted to get together on Sunday evening, but apparently they had dinner plans. This is when I realized that The Wifey is clearly not comfortable with the time that she has allotted for herself. Papa Bear isn’t allowed to text me when they are on dates, but she can text him all she wants when he’s with me. He is not allowed to see me on Sunday during the day, or on Saturday mornings. When we DO have our time, The Wifey finds a way to insert herself into it, and instead of being gracious about the fact that we AGREED we’d have dinner with her because it was what SHE wanted, she acted like it was a huge favor and Papa Bear should be there to serve her—while making sure that I was not there, but instead outside. And then instead of having their friend over for brunch or lunch –a friend which I still haven’t met–despite her requests that I be invited next time–she invites her for dinner, effectively extending her time with Papa Bear and cutting mine. Again.
Dinner as a weapon. Who knew?
I am not okay with sharing my time with him anymore. Because invariably–and this happens again and again–if Papa Bear is in the vicinity of The Wifey, she feels entitled to his unwavering attention, regardless of whether or not she has already had her time with him for that day. And will again the next day.
We had been talking about having another threesome again soon, but on the date we’d discussed, I have an evening training for work. Frankly I’m relieved, because I am not in a headspace to have sex with her while things are like this. I’m too frustrated and too tired and too annoyed. Papa Bear can just keep making up excuses about why its not going to happen, because I am not putting myself in a situation where I am going to be boxed out. Again.
If I need to be selfish and demanding to have my needs and wants respected, then I guess that’s who I’ll be. Otherwise, I give up. Whatever that means.