The Story of Wrong Guy – Part III

August 18, 2012

If you’re just tuning in I would recommend going back and reading Part I and Part II first.

At the end of Part II I had confronted Wrong Guy, he had admitted to being in love with The Ogress but had denied anything physical.

It was just after Thanksgiving. December was… a bitch. And a roller coaster.

I forget some of the details as to what happened when exactly. But it all happened within about a three week span so I don’t think it matters too much what came first.

At some point, I moved in to the spare bedroom. I wanted to give him some space. To think.

I wanted to save my marriage.

I didn’t get married with the idea that I’d just get divorced if things got hard or didn’t go well. I was in it for the long haul. Aside from being deployed, we hadn’t really dealt with too much hardship in our relationship. I meant it when I pledged “for better or worse.” I knew the worse would happen at some point and now it was upon us. I was determined to fight.

But fighting, in this case, mostly meant being patient and waiting. And talking. And writing. I couldn’t yell at him. I didn’t want to be that shrew wife that made his choice easier for him. He’d definitely leave then. I tried to walk a fine line of standing up for myself – he agreed to my condition not to contact The Ogress during this time, but giving him space to think and work through whatever was going on in his head. I encouraged counseling. I wrote him a looong letter about what he and our marriage meant to me and urged him to not just give up on it but work at it.

One night, during all this giving of space on my part, I came home from work (I had a job now) and could see that he had already been home and left again. I figured he had gone out for beers with a buddy or two. It was a Thursday. Ten o’clock came and went. Eleven o’clock came and went. I started to worry. It was a “school night” after all.

I went to bed in the spare room. I slept some but woke frequently. Around 2am I was awake and freaking out. I checked our bedroom for his clothes and suitcase to see if he had left me. Everything appeared to still be there. But I knew his romantic nature. For all I knew he had decided on a whim to go see her. I called The Ogress in the middle of the night. She didn’t know where he was. But she sounded just as worried as me and told me to have him call her. Um… WHAT THE FUCK NO I WILL NOT TELL MY HUSBAND TO CALL HIS GIRLFRIEND YOU CRAZY ASS BITCH… I said in my head. This was how I discovered that he had not held to his promise of not communicating with The Ogress. All I had asked for was space for him to think things through. Space from me and space from her. She couldn’t respect that. She told me IT WAS NONE OF MY BUSINESS. I hung up.

Sometime around 2:30-2:45am I hear a car pull up in the driveway, a door close and the car drive away. He’s drunk and can’t get his key in the door. I yell at him. He thinks I’m nuts.

Turns out, they had been unexpectedly given the next day off and several of the guys had gone out drinking and he had left his car at the bar. Had I simply called some of the other wives I would have found that out. But no one knew what was going on in our house and I didn’t want to admit that I didn’t know where my husband was.

I got a sober apology later. Things actually seemed to warm up a bit. I got a looong letter from him in response to mine and it indicated that he loved me and wanted to work through things he had just gotten a bit confused. We even had sex. Really awesome sex. I carried that letter around with me everywhere I went.

And then the chill came back. And Christmas arrived. Along with my period. The first in almost a year.

I had always wanted a pair of diamond stud earrings. He gave me dangling diamond earrings for Christmas. I was perplexed. Does this mean you love me? I’m a firm believer that diamonds should be given out of love. He said he wasn’t sure. He still needed to get his head together. He wanted to go off camping by himself to figure things out.

Huh? Um… OK.

First, I’m not accepting these earrings. You hold onto them. Give them back to me if they’re given out of love. Otherwise, I don’t want them.

Second, camping? In December? At least take my cell phone with you in case you need it. And call me and let me know you’re OK.

And so he went. Camping. By himself. I hung out with a friend and confessed what was going on to her. We had a fun New Years Eve together flashing our boobs. Wrong Guy called every day to check in. Often reporting that the Park Ranger had said this or that about the weather conditions. Mostly I was a mess waiting for him to come home and give me an answer.

He came home. And he had an answer. He had made a decision.

He told me that he never loved me. That he had always been in love with her. He told me that I lacked “passion and exuberance for life” and that that was the reason he was leaving me. He wasn’t leaving me for another woman, he was leaving me because I was… boring. Or something.

He told me that he had indeed taken my advice and seen a counselor and that the counselor had recommended that he leave me.

I couldn’t bear to be in that house one more minute. He offered to go to a hotel but I hastily packed a bag and got the hell out of there. He asked where I was going. I said, “Why do you care?” It was a genuine question. I wanted to know why he cared where I went when he had just told me he never loved me. He had no response.

I stayed with a friend for the next two months and he NEVER knew where I was. He didn’t ask me again and he didn’t ask our friends. He really didn’t care.

I guess we’re gonna have a Part IV because I can’t continue right now.

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