The view from Papa Bear’s high rise is magnificent. I love sitting in this comfy lounge chair, watching the sun come up, watching the sun go down, watching the city lights at night, or the mist rising over the skyline in mid-morning.
I love our quiet time. I love drinking my coffee while he makes bacon, or just snuggling together and enjoying the fact that we have nowhere to be and nothing to do.
I love our little happy place at the top of the world.
I couldn’t breathe. I literally could not breathe. It wasn’t warm out anymore, but I rolled down my window and tried desperately to get my lungs to inflate. I started to dry-sob. I felt like I might puke. I asked Papa Bear to open the other windows, and when that didn’t work, to open the moon roof.
We were on the highway and I just needed him to pull over so I could get out of the car. “Can you find a gas station?” I gasped. He said, with a look of absolute panic on his face, that he would pull over as soon as he found one.
It was clear he hadn’t the slightest idea what to do.
When he finally found a place to stop, I got out of the car, told him to stay where he was, and ran inside for a pack of cigarettes. I have been trying very hard not to smoke, but this was an emergency. I sat outside the car, on the curb, and smoked one, and then another, and slowly my heart-rate returned to normal.
I walked slowly towards the car, got in, and then said “So you’re a dom now?”
Papa Bear is my “Daddy”, as we refer to it in kink circles. But he could never really do the dom thing. He helps me be disciplined in areas of my life that I need it, and he takes care of me and nurtures my inner baby girl. But he has made it clear from the start–even when The Ex-Wifey discovered she was a submissive and wanted him to beat her–that he is not dominant in that way. We actually took almost 6 months off from our Daddy/Baby Girl relationship when things were bad with The Wifey, and had just started dipping our toes back into him being my Daddy again. So all I could think was “But he will dom Nerd Girl. For HER, he’s a dom!?”
“No,” he said. “I’m not a dom now.”
“Then what the hell?? Why the hell did you nod when she asked if you would go down the dom road with her!?”
“It was awkward. She said it in front of you guys and I didn’t want to be like ‘Um, hold up, no’. I figured I’d sort it out with her next time we talk. And I kind of thought she was just asking if its okay that she’s a submissive, not that she wants me to be her dom.”
“Well, no,” I said. “That’s not how she put it. She asked you to ‘go down that road’ with her. She obviously thinks you’re her dom now.”
He said he had no intention of being her dom, or anyone else’s. “I had fun with her,” he said, “but flogging her did nothing for me. I wasn’t even a little bit turned on, even though she was buck ass naked and moaning like crazy. It’s not my thing.”
“Then why does she need a special name for you? Why does she now, after one night, need you to have a Dom title?”
“That freaked me out too,” he said. “She should just call me my name. I don’t want a title with anyone but you.”
I calmed down by a fraction of a decibel.
“What else upset you?” he asked.
“Well, you didn’t use a condom,” I said. “You said you would use a condom with anyone else, and you didn’t. So I guess you’ll need to buy some to use with me, since you want to be fluid-bonded with her now.”
He apologized profusely. He said it was idiotic. That he put the condom on, and it came off, and then he didn’t grab another one. He said there was no excuse. He promised it wouldn’t happen again.
But I couldn’t stop shaking and my teeth kept chattering.
“What else?” he asked.
“She wants to come spend nights at your house so she doesn’t have to go home from work? You just moved out! We literally just got to a place where we don’t need to wait til your wife is out to see each other, and you said I could come over after work, or spend the night and go to work from your place in the morning, and now she thinks she should be doing that? I have been waiting this entire relationship to get to have that kind of time with you, and after one night, she gets to reap the benefits of all our pain and all the hard decisions we’ve made, and now I have to check with you to find out if Nerd Girl is coming over before I can!?”
“No,” he said. “I told her when we chatted last week, that I am not looking for another girlfriend, and that’s still true. I have been waiting so long for us to be able to have to space to just be together. I love how easy it has been since I moved out, and how happy we have been, and I have no intention of suddenly having another woman staying over at my place all the time.”
“She already wants to see you on Friday. That’s the only night I can stay over when we don’t have to rush because of everyone’s work schedule. You said I could spend Friday night. Why does she think she is spending Friday night?”
“I have no idea,”he said. “She had already asked me about my schedule when we were in bed. I told her that the only night I have free this week is Friday, and that I usually spend Fridays with you.”
“Then why did she say that?”
“I don’t know,” he said, looking truly confused. “But her intensity is freaking me out.”
“Do you want to spend Friday night with her?” I asked quietly. “I’m not going to pull rank and say you can’t if that’s what you want to do.”
“No,” he said emphatically. “I’m not going to say I would never go out with anyone else on a Friday night, but right now you and I need that time. And I want to spend it with you. I don’t want to give it up. And I just met her. I don’t know her. ”
“Yet,” I said.
“Look,” he told me. “The first time you and I were together, something amazing happened between us. We clicked and we connected in so many ways. I knew you were my soul mate, even if I couldn’t put it into words. Even before we met, even when we were just chatting on OkCupid and texting, I felt like I knew you. I don’t feel that way about her. And even though you and I might start dating other people eventually, I have no desire to do that right now. We need space and time to figure out how to just be together. You are my world.”
We were driving now, but I asked him to pull over. I said I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know whether I should go home and be by myself, or go with him. I didn’t know whether we should try to talk this out, or just move on from it.
We got out of the car. He said he still wanted to talk. And in the distance, I spotted blue and green colours dancing across the sky. On our second date, we’d tried to find them, but couldn’t. That was the night he was talking about–the night we ended up on top of each other in the backseat, with our souls fused.
“Do you want to go see the Northern Lights?” I asked.
“Really?” he said, looking relieved and grateful.
“Really,” I answered.
And so we did.
Papa Bear moved out.
He has been in his new apartment a week today.
He tells me he is so, incredibly happy. And he seems happy. He gets to wake up later in the morning because he doesn’t have to make coffee for the Ex-Wifey before he leaves for work. His commute is shorter and easier. And he is way closer to where I live.
Instead of getting home from work and dreading what he is going to be in trouble for now, or what he is going to have to do for the Ex-Wifey, he just comes home and does whatever he wants. He relaxes. Or takes a nap. Or puts together furniture in his underwear. Or walks around naked.
His apartment is nice. It’s small, but new. Hardwood floors and lots of windows, in a high rise downtown with a gym and a pool. He is excited to have my kids over to swim.
Still, sometimes, the immensity of what has happened overcomes him. Still he tells me, sometimes he wonders “What have I done?”
I understand. Who wouldn’t have those reservations? What kind of person would leave a 20+ year marriage without some second thoughts? When he feels that though, he reminds himself of how bad it was. And of everything he has gained. And the panic slowly fades.
He says I am the most important thing in the world to him. I think its because I support his freedom, and respect his autonomy. Also, of course, is our amazing, heart-stopping, intense connection that just continues to grow and grow.
We are both so relieved–if that’s an appropriate word to use. We just want to be together, without having to walk on egg shells, or wait for permission, or feel guilty. He tells me he is excited about our life together, and being able to define it without a bunch of constraints.
I agree. We are soul mates. And now we can stop pretending that that doesn’t matter.
In the midst of all the Boss Man craziness, Papa Bear and I took our vacation into the mountains. It was absolutely perfect. It was off season at the resort, so the place was pretty well deserted. We spent four days cooking, snuggling, drinking, wandering through town, swimming in the natural spring pools, and screwing.
One night, after coming in from the hot tub, we fell into bed naked. We kissed feverishly, drunkenly, and started groping and sucking and fucking. I was on my stomach and as he fucked me from behind, I half-purred, half-growled, “I want you to fuck my ass.”
This is something that has always been a challenge for us. It has something to do with how thick Papa Bear’s cock is, and how tight my ass is, but in the year and a half that we’ve been together, we have only achieved anal once, and I couldn’t take it for long.
This time, though, I guess I was just drunk enough, just horny enough, and just lubed enough.
He slid the head of his cock into me. I gasped, and told him to wait. He held still and I tried to relax. He slid in a little more. I whimpered and took a deep breath, somewhere in the space between pain and ecstasy. We continued like that for several minutes, me breathing and trying to relax, him waiting and then advancing. And then he was inside me.
I moaned loudly. “Fuck me,” I begged, and he did. I screamed. I screamed and moaned and swore, and told him how fucking good it felt. I begged for more–harder, faster. He pounded me while I came and came, and then he filled me with cum.
“Holy fucking shit.”
It was definitely worth the wait, but we both agreed that another year and a half is not allowed to pass before we do that again.
I’ve been MIA for awhile, for no particular reason. Just taking some time to let things sink in, I guess. Everything is just in this weird in between space, and I feel kind of un-tethered.
Papa Bear is still living in the family home with The Wifey. At first they had hoped that they’d be able to make a platonic domestic partnership work, but Papa Bear realized pretty quickly that he needs to move out. He says the house doesn’t feel like his home, anymore.
I’m still not allowed over when The Wifey is home, which causes no small amount of stress for us. Sometimes she won’t let him know her schedule ahead of times, so we can’t make plans. The last time he asked her what her plans were, she shouted at him and said he needed to “stop pressuring her”. She then went on to say that this is all his fault, he has no integrity, he ruined their family, etc, etc.
She has told Papa Bear and their kids, that she doesn’t blame me for their separation, or believe it is my fault. It’s a nice thing to say, but Papa Bear says that if its true that she doesn’t blame me, she absolutely does blame him.
So now he is planning on moving out as soon as possible. It is just too stressful and painful for him to continue living there.
They have told their children that they’ve split up. His daughter understands (because she still lives at home, and has been witness to all of the screaming and crying), but apparently their son took it pretty hard.
We are both dealing with the question of when we would start dating other people again, and how we would handle it if we did. We’ve gone back and forth. Papa Bear was considering getting to know a girl he met at a poly group, and they have been chatting, but he feels like he won’t be ready to move forward with anything until he is moved out and has spent some time getting used to living on his own. And until he and I have had a chance for things to stabilize for our relationship. Once the dust settles, we want to make sure we’re still good.
I had a quite long flirtation with one of my supervisors, which started as harmless flirting many, many months ago, transitioned into heavy sexting, and culminated in us making plans to spend the night together one Friday after work.
He bailed at the last minute. Apparently him being my supervisor, and us having a secret affair (in terms of work, he’s unattached), and me being married–it is a line he just cannot cross. I respect that, but I’m not going to say I didn’t walk away wondering if I was shameful and dirty and not good enough for him.
We said we’d keep being friends and spend time together in PG scenarios, but he’s been sick and now I’m sick so I haven’t actually seen him since. We’ll see how it goes. Part of me wants things to just go back to normal, and part of me hopes that eventually we’ll get drunk and do it anyway.
As for actual dating, I know I’m not ready for any more relationships, and I honestly may not be until my kids are pretty much grown. Two partners is plenty.
Papa Bear and I are taking a little getaway next week, which is desperately needed. We are going to the mountains and staying in a condo on a ski hill. I honestly do not care if we don’t do anything but cuddle, fuck and drink. I wouldn’t even say I’m so much excited, as I am relieved. I feel like we have not been able to just BREATHE in so long. It cannot come soon enough.
I keep having arguments with her in my head. Telling her what I want to say, imagining her response, and trying to refute it. It’s a habit I developed back when I figured that one day, for sure, we would have to sit down and hash things out. That there was no way we could move forward without doing that–without at least being heard.
Hearing from Papa Bear, however, what she thinks and feels about me, makes it clear that no amount of talking would make any difference. He says that once she has made up her mind about a person’s actions and motivations, there is no convincing her otherwise. I find this maddening, but I guess in a way its also freeing. Because it doesn’t matter what I do or say, I’m going to be the villain–so I don’t have to worry about what I do or say.
She believes that every action I have taken, every move I have made in my relationship with Papa Bear, has been carefully and methodically calculated in order to drive them apart.
She is still angry about the time she invited us to dinner, when we were on a date, and then suggested twice that if I was cold I go sit outside. She firmly believes that the reason I actually went and sat outside, was to snub her, and to take Papa Bear away from her (even though I told him to go ahead and stay inside with her). Apparently when she said she’d like to cook dinner for us, she meant she’d like all of us to cook dinner together, and I was rude for leaving. There is no room in her mind to accept the fact that maybe it was a misunderstanding.
She maintains that she is baffled–baffled!–as to why I would have got my feelings hurt over not being invited to their movie night at Christmas. The fact that this was a tradition that included all their friends, for years, and I wasn’t invited, should not have been hurtful to me. The fact that she and her boyfriend and his wife, sat three feet across from me and discussed it, knowing I would hear, knowing that I wasn’t welcome, should not have hurt me. Because it is their family event, and they have the right to decide who is invited and who isn’t, and the fact that I made a big deal out of this just shows that I do not respect their marriage. Papa Bear told her that I did not “make a big deal”–that it was a big deal, because I was actively hurt by her actions, but she refuses to see that she did anything wrong.
There is so much more that she is still angry about. The time that Papa Bear and I were 20 minutes late bringing food to the games night, even though we already had plans to hang out with someone else, and rudely and hurtfully cut it short because The Wifey decided to hold an event that same night that Papa Bear was required to be at. She is fuming because people were waiting, and refuses to see that she had no business requiring us to cut our plan short after an hour so we could be there for what she was doing.
In this entire thing–as it relates to me, but also, worse, as it relates to her relationship with Papa Bear–she has not apologized. Not once. She does not believe anything she did was wrong. She places the blame squarely on us, and mostly on me.
I would love to just move on. I would love to just sigh and say its in the past. But unfortunately, even though I have not seen her in months, she is still very much a part of my life, because she is a part of Papa Bear’s life. Before the break-up, she told him that she could not handle having me in the house while she was in the house. I did not want to be in the house with her either, but instead of merely going out whenever I planned to be there, she now wants Papa Bear to plan when he sees me according to when she has other plans. Papa Bear says he will give her a month as of the day of the break-up, but after that, she is just going to have to deal.
When I’m there, though, I feel like an intruder. Like I don’t have the right to be there. Papa Bear and I decorated our bedroom at his place to look like a cabin, and that is the only place in the house where I don’t feel on edge. On the weekend we spent some time in the living/dining room, and I remained perched on a dining chair, even though my body hurt, because I didn’t feel like I could sit on her couch. I don’t like using the bathroom where her vast collection of necklaces hang on display. I prefer to drink coffee only from the mug that I bought Papa Bear.
I wish he would move, but I know its complicated. I also know its his decision, and I’m not going to push him, because any decision he makes about any of it, needs to be 100% his. He confided to me that every option terrifies him. Staying in the house. Renovating the basement so they can rent it to cover the mortgage and house taxes and he can afford his own place. Selling and being buried in tens of thousands of fees from the bank. Renting the whole house and forcing her to leave her “dream home.” All of these options sound like crap to him.
So I just need to wait and see what happens, like I did when he and his wife were trying to work things out. Be silent, be supportive, wait and see. Like I’m doing while they are trying to see if they can be friends. Like I am doing to see how long he will let her tell him when I can and can’t be in the house. Like I am doing with all of it.
When the anxiety gets to be too much, I think about making another appointment with my therapist. I lose myself in a good novel. I go for a walk and let the fresh air and sunshine do their work. I talk to a friend. I blog. I clean the apartment from top to bottom. I tell Papa Bear how I feel, but not what to do. I let him do him, and I do me.
So here’s what happened. She came home one morning, after having spent the night at her boyfriend’s. Papa Bear asked her how her night was, if she’d had a good time, etc. She said “We need to talk.”
So he sat down across from her at the table, and she said “I can’t do this. This isn’t working.” She went on to say that she could never feel safe with him as long as he was in a relationship with me, because as long as he’s with me, he won’t care for her or prioritize her.
She went on for awhile about all the ways he’s disappointed her, and about how my goal since the beginning has been to break them up, and all he does is defend me. Blah, blah, blah.
When she was done, he said, “Okay. Then we won’t be in a romantic relationship. If you can’t feel safe in a relationship with me, then we shouldn’t be in one.”
I’m not sure what happened after that, but that was the break-up.
She spent the majority of the next week sick in bed, but he told me that on Thursday after he got home from work, they were going to have a chat about logistics. They were supposed to talk about what to do with the house, about their daughter Lucy, who still lives with them because she is disabled, about what to tell their kids and their family and friends, and what to do about the upcoming vacations they have planned for the year.
They started off talking about their trips, but then The Wifey got angry and started to shout at him. She said he was a “fucking asshole”, that he didn’t realize what he was giving up, that she couldn’t believe he was willing to give up on their relationship, that one day he would wake up and realize he’d made a huge mistake and it would be too late.
He told her that he didn’t “give up” because he stopped loving her, or because he was sick of her, or because he’d rather be with me. He gave up because he realized that no matter how hard he tried, and no matter what he did, it would never be enough. And so he could continue to beat his head against the wall, to try and fail at making her happy, for the rest of his life, or he could just admit that it wasn’t going to work, and they could both move on.
She either implied, or directly stated, that if he would break up with me, then he wouldn’t have to be frustrated or feel like he is failing her. And he said that one thing he has realized, is that he has to be free to define his own relationships. He has to be free to determine how they will go, what place they will have in his life, whether he continues or ends them, without coercion.
He told her that he had given up relationships with some of his best friends, because she didn’t approve. Because whenever he wanted to spend time with them, she would complain that he was taking time away from her, or spending his money on other people, or not considering her. Or, if she didn’t “get” the people he was friends with (which was usually the case–they do not have the same taste in friends or lovers at ALL), she would just say that his friends were completely fucked up, or that they were immature and childish and stupid, or whatever else, until it was easier for him to just not spend time with those people. That he wasn’t going to do it anymore. He is allowed to choose his friends, he is allowed to choose his acquaintances, he is allowed to choose his lovers, and he will not be in a situation where he is expected to do otherwise.
He told her that the only thing that would happen if he broke up with me, was that, in a very short amount of time, he would be back to doing whatever she wants, because that’s what would make her happy. And that the only difference would be, that now he knows he has the right to live his own life, so he would hate himself.
She didn’t have anything to say to that–for once. He says that’s because she knows that he’s right. Or maybe she was just shocked that she was “giving him another chance” and he still wasn’t backing down.
They finished discussing their logistics. Their mortgage isn’t up for renewal for another 2 years, so they can’t sell the house now without taking a significant financial hit. If she can be reasonable and stop attacking and trying to get him to leave me, they may try to be platonic domestic partners for awhile. If it doesn’t work, then he may have to move out, which means she would have to as well, since she can’t afford the house on her own. There’s other options floating around, so we’ll see what happens.
I’m still not 100% sure this breakup is going to stick. We’ll see.