There are two sides to every coin and there are two sides to every marriage. I have a blog under another name for a different side of my marriage; the happier side. This blog is dedicated to the other side. It’s the darker, uglier side of my marriage. It’s the complicated side. This is my side.
I have been married for five years. Out of those five years I can count the number of weeks I have been blissfully happy with both hands. Ten… Ten is the number of weeks my husband has been away at boot camp. Ten is the number of weeks he has gone without contact to the outside world. No cell phones (except for an hour on Saturdays), no internet, no ways to stray from his wife. Ten is the number of weeks in which I receive beautiful loving letters from my husband. We wrote to each other religiously, we got to know each other all over again. I fell in love with him all over again. My husband was more there for me in boot camp through his letters than he was our entire marriage. I was over the moon, head over heels, truly madly deeply in love with this new man the army made. Ten was the number of weeks it took for us to come to a place in our marriage where we honestly believed we were past the dark days of our marriage and onto a better place.
Ten was the number of weeks it took until the other shoe dropped. I was so in love with my husband, I staked out the mail box eagerly awaiting a slightly crumpled letter. The sight of his chicken scratch against the white paper made my heart flutter and my soul do the soul mate dance. On Saturdays I ate slept and bathed with my phone just in case he called. One time I missed a call and I literally sobbed.
I was so completely in love. I literally wanted to hug and kiss him until we were old and died and then I wanted to go to heaven with him and kiss some more. I was so in love with him that I was blinded to that darkness that crept inside our marriage.
Ten was the number of weeks it took for him to break my heart all over again.
“I got to watch your vid and see your photos. I love your body so much. Your pink pussy mmm it looked so fucking wet and tasty, do you like to receive oral sex? Because I could eat you out so hard, and you sucking that cock, it got me so hard. Do you have any more? Do you want more of me?” – My husband
That letter wasn’t written to me.
Ten… ten times ten times ten times ten. This the number of times he has hurt me. This is the number of times he promised she was the last one. This is the number of times I fell for his lies. This is the number of times I have wanted to leave. This is the number of times I stayed.
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