Grindr, Deceit, and Emotions.... OH MY!!

It has been awhile since I have added to my blog. It's because we are starting to get into the deep shit that is soul wrenching. You may be like... "WTF, Starsha!!! All this shit has been pretty hard to deal with!" Yes, Yes, you would be right... but not nearly as hard as what is yet to come. Yeah, I will tell you now... I am emotional as fuck (I've probably already mentioned it a time or two haha)... but it gets worse... much worse.

So, I find this app called Grindr. It's a gay hookup site. I showed it to my hubs and he basically took that bitch and ran with it. Full speed ahead!

Gotta love the Golden Girls!!!

The first few hookups were a no show, which he acted deeply wounded over. I was secretly relieved but still held a certain kind of sadness for him. I knew he wanted to experience it. But all I could do was bawl.... 

Then his first night out happened... he went to the gay bars and had a little fun and then he stopped responding for awhile. My imagination had me thinking about what if he met some kind of serial killer. Maybe that proverbial Antonio has a dark side? I cried and cried and cried.... my face was so swollen I looked like an down syndrome Asian kid (so not PC but it is the only way I can think to describe it. Don't judge me!). I couldn't feel him anymore. He disappeared off of my empathic radar. I threw up, I stayed horizontal in the shower for over an hour bawling, and I texted him over and over... desperate for an update I wouldn't get until around 3 or 4am. Turns out he found himself a threesome. I finally passed out... emotionally exhausted. When he got home, I cried even more. 

Each time he went out to be with a guy, it got a little easier. But with every new exploit, I was a nervous wreck. I'd beg him to go while I was bawling. Sure that I was doing what was best for him... and not even considering that I may need to be true to myself. 

All I wanted was cuddles when he got home. I needed physical reassurance that he still loved me. He became loathsome of my requests for physical affection. His touches were cold and empty. He was cut off from me. I will admit, I still got some good ass smackings here and there... but I became more and more desperate for a loving touch. 

I sent him the following heartfelt email on 3/7/2016. I titled it Warning: Feelings Ahead:

I know this is a new and exciting time in our lives. I know you still have a lot of things you need to think about and figure out and it can be quite overwhelming at times. I'm always here for you to help you and be a sounding board for your ideas. I love how happy you are when you come home from your newfound exploits. It makes me feel good to know how good you feel. Equally, it makes me sad to see you suffer. 

I didn't know how to bring this up because you don't seem to be feeling very well today, but I have to be open and honest. I was going to bring it up this morning... When I tell you that I need you to touch me or snuggle, I am not asking flippantly. I am telling you what I need. I need physical reassurance. Especially when you spend 3 out of 4 nights having sex with other people. It is fine that you do that... I really do not have a problem with it, but I really still need you to love on me, I'm not even talking about sexually.... though sex is nice. Emotionally I am still figuring everything out. It has not been a particularly easy transition but I feel like I am coping well enough. I need you to help me though by being extra sensitive to my needs too. 

When you disconnect and do not make an effort to connect with me, especially when I am making an active effort to interact with you... It feels like I am not worth the effort. I get anxiety. My mind starts playing tricks on me and I start feeling desperate. You are probably tired. You have been having lots of adventures and that has to take it out of you. You probably wouldn't believe how happy I am for you that you get to explore your sexuality with such verve. The only problem is that I have needs too.... needs which are generally met lately. But this last week, I have not really felt like you want to touch me...  as I have not noted any attempt on your part to hold me or touch me in a way that I felt like you wanted to connect to me.... And when I come over to you, I do not really feel welcome. I don't know if that is just my imagination. It totally could be. It could be a result of my anxious imagination... sent forth to aggravate my fears....  And I understand that if I ask and you don't feel like it, then that's ok. I can tell when you just don't have it in you. We just need to find a way together that we can meet this need of mine. 

Please know that I am not judging you... I am just trying to find a way to express myself in a way that doesn't come across as an accusation. I understand why you may not feel like being touchy feely, I really do. But I would be doing myself a disservice if I kept it to myself. 

As I read this in the present, I can't help but feel that I was being more than fair. And I was just expressing my feelings. My deep down, honest feelings. Right?

I was told that the more I pursued physical contact, the less he wanted to give it to me. He recognized that touch was my love language, stated that it wasn't his, and said that the more I asked for it the less he wanted to give it. He said I take too much energy. It was easy to fuck guys but I took too much and he simply did not have it to give to me. So what did I do? I tried to make sure I didn't ask too much of him. And I look back and want to kick my everloving ass. I did everything I could to make him happy. And I was miserable... 

I couldn't do my job anymore. I had become so depressed. 

I caught him lying about certain guys. One excuse was that he couldn't handle my emotions. Another was that he didn't want me to judge him. So he just wants to lay all the guys and not have any emotional repercussions. And when I did finally get to participate in a threesome with him and another guy. The hubs did not care to include me at all. The other guy tried. But my husband pretty much ignored my existence. I did note how completely blissed out he was during this sexual experience and I decided that if it made him feel that good, then how could I deny him that?

I had a moment of weakness one morning. I saw my hubs texting his regular booty call. Then he got up to get ready for his counselor's appointment way early. I had a very accurate suspicion that he was going to go meet up with his booty call and not tell me about it. I waited for him to get out of the shower and I tried to seduce my husband by offering him a blow job. He declined saying he just got a shower. I pointed out that he didn't have to leave for over an hour and he could get another shower. He was squirming. He didn't want a blowjob because he was going to see his man candy. Could he just tell me this? No... he couldn't. When I asked him point blank he denied it. Then he admitted it and then he said he was just going to tell me after. We had a rule. I always wanted to know before hand. It was our agreed upon rule. He said he didn't want to deal with my emotions. I was too much and he couldn't deal with me.... You know because he should really just get to do whatever he wants without regards to his wife's feelings.  Of course all of this got turned around and then I was the one who was in trouble for daring to offer up a blow job under false pretenses. Let's just forget about what a fucking liar he was and make it all about how I was insecure and trying to see if he would fess up to going to bone a guy... as per our previously agreed upon agreement. I'm evil... I know... (eyeroll)

This section has a trigger warning for self-harm... I would not want to harm one of my fellow self-injury survivors to be triggered because of a stupid decision that I had made. I put it in parenthesis... it's safe after that. 
(After he left for counseling, I did something I hadn't done in 14 years. I took my husband's straight shaving razor and sliced up the inner left foot towards the bottom. I sat there sitting on the edge of the tub, watching the blood drip and pool in the bottom of the tub. It wasn't enough. My skin crawled. My wrist beckoned the razor to come closer. My skin demanded something deep. Something dangerous. It's call was deafening as I silently watching the blood drain from my foot. I couldn't do that... I couldn't do that... I fled from the house because I could no longer be there with myself. I drove to the mall in Brownwood. And I wept wretchedly in the parking lot.  And I hid it from him. I didn't know how to cope. I just knew that he couldn't know that I had sliced myself up. Not after 14 years of self-injury sobriety. But at least he was getting what he needs. I was certain that he would reciprocate.... eventually. I did tell him eventually.... but it was much later after the wounds were healed.)

I tried to find my own side bitch too... but I wasn't as successful.... Got some kisses and naked cuddles though. I've always had a very monogamous spirit. One person was great for me. I was pursuing a sexual relationship with other people because I thought if I did it too, then I would feel better. I will add that this whole situation has changed who I am to my core. I'm still trying to figure out who I am. Thankfully I am in a much better place now. 

Surely my tear stained pillow would not be in vain. Surely this would make us stronger... Surely.....

Holy Fucking Shit.... was I wrong!!!

Afterthought: I gave up so much of who I am. I don't know if I will ever be able to trust again. I am hopeful.... but part of my idealist has died. I'm a bit jaded.