The Pilot Light I’m Protecting

I explained in my last post that The Player passed his second polygraph (I write second because who in the hell knows if there will be another or another five?) last month – yay us.

The Player had what is known in these parts (Infidelity World) as a “Parking Lot Confession” even though it was a small lie compared to him fucking other women and taking a whore to our vacation home, but okay. It brought up us talking about Christi again, a woman he knew from his hometown, to whom he offered help and his phone number. As you might imagine, I was livid and thought that was an absolute dick move (something I’m staunchly against and you should be, too) and so we have talked about it since it happened in November.

Talk we did. Too damn much. I had to go on about how it wasn’t right for him to be handing out his number (and hanging in a bar for 9 hours) and he went on about how his sobriety wasn’t in  jeopardy. He also reasoned it didn’t matter now anyway, because he agreed not to have any personal contact, exchange of numbers, building friendships, helping women, etc. in order for me to feel safe in our marriage. I was not happy about him making me feel like he was acquiescing to my boundary requirements (however, it didn’t stop me from making him sign it). He said many, many times it didn’t matter because I and our marriage were his priority and he created the shitty environment so he was fine with paying the consequences.

So a couple of weeks ago when the CSAT asked me why this Christi/Bar situation kept coming up, “Why Played, why isn’t it over for you?” he asked. It was nighttime when I was staring up into the dark, with The Player sleeping next to me, very soundly. I started crying, quietly of course, because I just wanted to be alone in my hurt, to live with it for a bit to make sure what I had figured out about myself and the situation.

The event kept coming up because in November I was feeling fairly good about us. His new drugs had kicked in and he was making big leaps into realizations about why he was the way he was. He was communicating all of that information back to me. He was connecting dots, and I felt hopeful. He was working on communicating empathy in a way that didn’t sound rehearsed or pushed because his CSAT said, “Look dumbass! Wouldn’t it be good to think about how Played might be looking at this? How she might feel?” No lie, less the dumbass comment.

By November I had made some good strides with hypnosis and was figuring out there was a way to let go of the trauma and finally, holy fuck, move on. By then, I knew I would leave if he acted out/cheated/fucked people/tried to create adoration relationships, etc. I knew I couldn’t control him, which meant the more imporant he couldn’t control me. Only I can do that. There was a heap of power in that. In November I had the smallest inkling that we might actually heal from all of this bullshit, or at least I realized I could be happy in this marriage again, even if it wasn’t my ideal marriage or situation. I could be happy because that is how I will live my life, regardless.

That incident with him in the bar and handing out his number and then steadfastly holding on to the idea of his that there was nothing wrong with it really impacted me because it made me pull back and I had three very clear thoughts about it,

  1. I had just so slightly opened that vulnerable place inside that I talk about a lot with him and his CSAT. That event taught me to pull back, be afraid, don’t get too close. Because, as I explained in therapy, if I didn’t know all of those years and he did it, that if he does it again, I REALLY would be stupid and foolish. I know intellectually it’s about him, has nothing to do with me and I believe this in my gut, but you know, I would feel stupid, and played all over again.
  2. I fear HIS stupidity might add to my loss of respect for him. Because this was so stupid. I’m not kidding, I said, “I don’t know if I can be married to someone who is such an idiot, because who the fuck couldn’t see that was a problem? An idiot, that’s who.” Yes, I used those words in therapy right after I said, this is going to sound bad.
  3. If he didn’t see this as a problem at the time (and it took him three months to realize this wasn’t behavior becoming of ANYONE wishing to be sexually sober) what the hell is going to happen on truly questionable events and his critical thinking skills?

In therapy I explained all of this. I explained he has really made it difficult – if not impossible – to open up the way I want to in my marriage and be vulnerable and the truth is, I don’t know if I can. I know I can be happy in the marriage if he continues on this path, we can have a fulfilling one even. But there is a small pilot light of vulnerability inside of me that I am keeping protected. He may never get close enough to it blow out. I felt he had to know.

The Player said, “I know we can be happy again. I know we can have a good life, because we do already have a good life. I know we can grow old together and I will spend the rest of my life learning to be better. I’m falling in love with you as a different man. I hope you will let me show you I am a different man with my actions.”

Me, “What if we have all of that, a happy, fulfilling, good life but you never reach that vulnerable spot in me again that I know I’m hiding from you?  What if I’m never able to be fully open up to you? Is that going to be okay? Is that going to be enough?”

Him, “It is. That is enough for me.”

I feel more free than I have in a long time.

 

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He Passed!

That is a sarcastic exclamation point, if you must know.

I mean Jesus Christ, I still can’t believe I am married to someone I feel I must have polygraph tested. It’s such major fucking bullshit.

So The Player passed the polygraph in February. The polygrapher called me immediately when he was done and said The Player passed with “flying colors,” but he mentioned something that The Player “remembered” and came clean about.

I know you’ll be surprised to know that The Player remembered he told me a lie about meeting “Christi” at that bar and them having such a short conversation she didn’t even sit down. A lot of partners in the Afterlife of Infidelity have firsthand accounts about this phenomenon called “Parking Lot Confessions.” The Player told the polygrapher before the test started he wanted to clear the air before the test because he didn’t want testing to show his deceit. Apparently, as the story is told now, Christi did sit down at the bar, so the visit wasn’t so much so a “quick visit” as much as it was, “she sat down long enough to have a beer visit” and that my friends, is an example of The Player not wanting to deal with the discussions that would ensue because of his actions.

That is fucking not cool. That is however, being A Dick, and that is one type of person I am strongly against being married to. You know, now that I have a choice. Here’s the thing, is this how it’s going to be now, “little” white lies to navigate? I’ve asked that several times and he’s maintained that is a thing of the past, that he’s strong enough to have hard discussions with me, even when I disagree with him. He’s “solid” in recovery and even as the CSAT calls me “formidable” because I am healthy, know what I want, and am insightful and not afraid to speak my truth, The Player says he can now deal with things head on.

He has been wanting to avoid these types of conversations (this would be the third lie he has come clean to me since New Year’s Eve) because we were doing well, and I had turned the corner out of the trauma. In these three cases, he omitted the truth to cover the appearance or hint of impropriety. The polygraph test revealed what he has been saying for months, he has not tried, in any form, to begin a relationship of any kind with a woman. Even with Christi.

The real kick in the face has come with the conversations surrounding the bar incident since the bar incident. He has been steadfast that the entire situation was fine, that he was never at risk of losing his sobriety. We’ve talked about that for three fucking months. I am not okay with him giving any women (outside of work) his phone number and especially women he wants to help.

This is not negotiable. It won’t ever be negotiable if The Player would like to stay married to me.* I had to state this again recently to The Player and his CSAT because something must keep being lost in translation from betrayed to asshole speak. The Player recently had an epiphany about the situation, yay him. This fucking Christi incident keeps coming up for me though, it is not buried yet. The CSAT asked me why it wasn’t dead yet, why, The Played, why!? I’ve thought a lot about that the last two weeks and I finally know why.

Stay tuned.

*The Player signed a boundaries agreement with me in December and has agreed to this stipulation so I feel safe. There have been many conversations about this general philosophy. 

 

Honesty and The Player

The truth, I guess, is oozing out of The Player now.

Everyone congratulate him on doing what seven-year-olds learn and do! He recently told me that for sure now, looking back, even as early as eight to ten months ago, he wasn’t “solid” in his recovery. He was “white knuckling” his recovery, but still not connecting all of the dots. These dots – and quite expensive dots to the tune of about $20,000 in therapy for him – didn’t start making sense until the last five months. That means for almost two years he’s been trying “work it out” with me, but with every little real tools to do it.

So, I feel like I wasted a lot of fucking time during all of that therapy and those brutal two to three-time a week talks or (fuckingfuckedup) checkins.

Not only did he prolong my suffering and add to the depth of it by lying for the first two months with broken contact with the last whore, for the next year he lied about the 18 years of affairs with the other multiple whores and he didn’t face the fact that he’s been getting  his broken ego stroked by women he didn’t even have to fuck. I believe I resent him for this prolonged suffering.

Imagine how great it felt to know that during the last couple of years for many months in our “reconciliation” he said – looking back of course –  he was very much susceptible to an affair had I kicked him out. “I’m pretty sure I would have,” he said. Honestly speaking, I think this is the most fucked up thing I’ve heard in a long time. Well, not too long, if I’m honest, because nothing surprises me about this process.

Today, I wouldn’t mind yelling, “Fuck this bullshit!” and the whores he rode in on.