What's the Status?

Throughout the morning and the day, we talked about the details. The UPS Girl for instance.  I needed to have that explained.

He told me she was young enough to be his daughter.

NOT. COMFORTING.

I tell him she is too hard looking and low budget to be his daughter.  I tell him I am baffled that he would be talking to her while he was out with me and even more perplexed that he would be pretending to be doing some fun extreme sports bullshit activity instead of admitting that he, a man of 50, was having a reasonably fun evening out with the love of his life. 

It's not like I had dragged him off to a charity ball in a tuxedo to drink bad champagne and hobnob with strangers. We had been at a sports bar having beer and fun food and watching ice hockey.  Most men would be thrilled that their partner would go along with them instead of hiding their car keys so they had to stay at home and watch Thirtysomething reruns with them. Yawn.

Why did he contact her and why did he pretend?  Why is he talking to her at all? 

He cuts to the chase. Tells me he has not been with any of these women.

I tell him it's good to hear that because if he had not clearly and definitively said so, I would assume otherwise and he could consider me a bitter memory because I'd run so far so fast it would make his head swim. It is kind of fun to say these words calmly and coolly and dispassionately.  Just stating the facts.

Infidelity = A future of solitude. And a long recovery process from the deep facial bruising.

And over the next few days I insist on talking about a few more troubling details. I ask for explanations. He is loathe to explain.

That's because there is no reasonable explanation for your conduct, asswipe. Of course you don't want to have a chat about your scumbag behavior!  Too effin' bad!  Explain or goodbye. A or B? Door #1 or Door #2?  There isn't a third choice!

But by the Thursday we've decided we want to see each other on the weekend, even if everything is not hunky dory.  But he's orchestrated it so he's in charge. He is going to come to my house instead of me to his (which he couches as a convenience to me, and a change of pace) but says he has done all the talking he wants to do about The Topic and does not want to talk about it all weekend. Weekends are for decompressing and having fun. Not for working on things. (Oh OK. I'll refrain from any further confrontational questions until you've clocked in again on Monday. Then be prepared to sweat. Deal.)

And really all this is is leveraging. If I came to his house and began a 48 hour inquisition, he'd have to literally make me leave (and imagine the slapstick that would be) to get me to stop. If he comes to my house and I break out the interrogation lamp, he jumps into the car and loses me in the rear view mirror.  Very tricky.

But by the end of the weekend, through very carefully planned conversation, we have worked through all the feelings, if not through all the episodes. 

As we say goodbye I whisper in his ear that I love him very much and he says that he does too. And I tell him if he ever has doubts or his feelings change, he needs to just tell me. I know things change. That's how we all got divorced.  I'd be sad but I'd survive and I'd rather leave a relationship where I am not loved than stay in something that is half a relationship. I'd give him the same courtesy. 

He says "OK."  But somewhere deep inside, I know it is not ever really going to be OK.  Once something like this has happened, there is always the possibility that it will happen again.  And that will nag at me until there is a ring on my hand.

Or a status change on Facebook, the be honest.