Terms Of Fidelity

He pretends to want me. 

Only on his terms. 

He’ll ‘be mine’ only if I agree to become codependant.

He said that was his deal breaker.

That I would not, could not, promise to be faithful to him ever again.

He wants fidelity, from me.  He wants me to be faithful.  When he knows that he cannot be. When he hasn’t been, not once, not twice, but for FIVE YEARS RUNNING, at least.  When there is a NINETY NINE PERCENT CHANCE HE WILL RELAPSE and do it all again.



Double standard, double dealing asshole. 

Selfish bastard. 


Wants to control everyone else but denies he should have to meet the same standard he sets for other people.  Just like always.  Nothing new to see here, move along, move along.  He lies to control me and have everything he wants, but has no intention of reciprocation.  Someone must have told him that he deserved a faithful wife, that if she really loved him she would be faithful no matter how many lies or diseases or porn stars or abuses he brought home to her.

Really?  I mean, REALLY????

I agreed to his terms before.  His terms meant less than the cost of the air to say them.  They were lies.

An affair.  That would have been terribly hard, but doable.  I could learn to forgive that.  Then I would have a short one, and if he wants me he can accept the terms that he created and then we move on.  But no, I am supposed to forgive and be perfect, and he can destroy, rinse, repeat.

And he does nothing to make me want him back.  Nothing to make me feel like he really wants me, more than anything.  Refuses to meet the needs I stated specifically I needed to see to feel safe.  In an affair, I am supposed to give him space to want me back?  I am supposed to readily want him back?  I am supposed to be patient and wait for him to decide he wants me more than the other woman?  

But this, this is so much bigger. 

No.  He is an addict living in his addicted world.  I am merely mistress.  Mistresses have no say, no power.  That is how he likes it.  That is how he must have it to feel safe and secure and happy happy.

Maybe he will recover.

I doubt I will be around to see it.

I really thought we could have a good life together.

I want so much better.

I demand it.

Why am I so defensive?

Because I plan on having sex this weekend.  With someone I don’t love.  He may know.  I don’t ask.  He never tells.  Secrets, deceptions, lies.  He has gone out of town.  I haven’t told him because he made it clear that we were over, that he was putting no more effort in to this relationship.  He had given up, even more than he did all those years ago when he decided I wasn’t good enough for him.  My choices, my movements, no longer matter.

I may be pretty thick, but I can ultimately take a hint.  Finally.  When I am hit with a two by four.  I know when I am not wanted.

I had a fantasy that he would declare his undying love to me, say he would accept me no matter what, that he wanted me and only me, that he would meet those needs of mine so that I could feel wanted and safer, and that he would do everything in his power to prove that I was really the only one he wanted to be with.

And then, maybe, I wouldn’t have felt the need, to have sex with someone else.  It isn’t what I signed up for by marriage, anyway.  I would feel that I was loved, no matter what, like he expected me to prove he was loved, no matter what.  No matter what we agreed were the foundations of our relationship, no matter what he promised that he broke, no matter what my principles are regarding infidelity so hard learned from so many instances of being cheated on, no matter the trauma I, maybe we, had been through.

But that was just my fantasy.

Reality is sex.

No love.




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