Respect, Confidence, Deference, Fear

In so many ways, I was in awe of her. She is smarter than me, better-looking than me, wiser than me, more spiritual than me, more aware than me. I envied her, was so proud of her. But because I felt she was so much better than me, and I was so insecure and depressed, I couldn't take leadership in anything.

So she carried all the responsibility for the relationship.

We're learning some things. Now that I'm healthier, it's okay for her to say "no" to my suggestions and proposals. Before it would have crushed what little confidence I had in myself. It's okay for her to correct and even rebuke me when I need it. It won't destroy me. It's okay for me to get to the point of boiling, ravenous passion for her, and for her to stop me. I won't lose control and hurt her. I am self-disciplined and can take care of my own needs.

And so it's okay for me to begin to take some leadership. She was so tired of carrying it all herself.

I asked her, "May I kiss you?" "No," she said, and hugged me instead.

Throughout the evening, I asked a few more times, and she said "no" each time.

And then I looked deeply into her eyes. I stared into her soul, drowned in her, penetrated her with my gaze. And I leaned forward, softly-but-firmly took her chin in my hand, lifted and tilted her face, and kissed her with gentle passion. And she responded in kind.

I think I'm slowly beginning to understand.

Hooky

The dawn broke.

Awakening brought glorious remembering. Here we were, abed together, my mind and body still reeling from last night's lovemaking. Beyond anything we had experienced together. Beyond anything I'd ever experienced. I don't understand what happened, but she invited pleasures even I had rarely even considered, and I complied with eager enthusiasm.

My heart was so full I thought it might burst.

We arose, stretched, showered (separately) and dressed. I puttered in the kitchen and made enormous Western omelettes for her and the kids. My body, soul and spirit were so warm and full that I didn't really feel like eating. It would almost feel like too much.

We got the kids dressed and fed and sent off to school. I dawdled, missing my bus to work, enjoying her serene presence and beauty. We talked about plans for the week, mentioning that she'd like to take a road trip on the weekend.

Suddenly I blurted, "Do you want to go now? I'll call in sick."

We packed up into the car and drove up over a mountain pass to a nearby farming community, ninety minutes' drive away. We took our time, stopping at little rest stops to walk in the woods, holding hands. She shone in my eyes brighter than the sun, more delicate than the flowers, more deep and glorious than the lakes. I filled my senses with her transcendent presence.

We got there close to lunchtime, and walked into a local chicken-and-burger joint for lunch. The place was filled with teenagers on their lunch break, and all heads turned as she walked confidently past. "That's a strut-and-a-half," remarked one girl. I smiled. Yes, I thought, and she's with me. She's not mine, not now, not yet, but she is with me.

We enjoyed lunch, and wandered lazily through a series of fruit stands. The proprietors were eager to show their wares, pulling out their penknives to slice sections of peach and apple and pear for our approval. We marvelled at the beauty of the crisp autumn day, at the sweetness of the fruit, and the magnificence of the surrounding mountains, mottled in shades of green and gold.

Moment by moment, she silently invited me to stay, just one more moment. Until the end of the day arrived, and she looked up from the bed that once was ours, and said, "Are you coming to bed or what?"

I bowed in respect to her, and the holy marriage bed, and joined her there once again. She liked that. And soon sleep came.

Dating While Separated

When we were apart, I was angry that we were apart. I was furious with her for rejecting me. I hated being alone.

I decided to find someone better.

So I talked to many women, and something in me just cringed with each of them. Now that I was looking at them as potential dating partners, they somehow lacked any appeal. Sure, some were pretty, some were nice, some had lots going for them... but none were my wife, and they paled by comparison.

So I continued searching, online and in real life, far and wide, for weeks and months. And no-one caught my heart.

And I was angry and upset. I wanted love. I deserve love. I need love.

But I didn't feel love until the day, six months later, that my heart softened and shattered and turned in full back towards my wife.

I never found anyone that I really wanted to be with. They all were dull and uninteresting by comparison. Even while I hated my wife, no-one else could take her place.

And in the middle of that tremendous, aching void, I realised that all I ever wanted was found in her.

I love her with my entire being, heart and soul and mind and strength. I want her and no-one else, now and forevermore. I hope and pray that her heart will soften towards me, and she will embrace me again.

Wonder and Glory

"No expectations," she warned. And I agreed.

The evening passed, and I was comfortable and warm, enjoying her company. No thoughts of the future. No sexual desire. No longing. Just enjoyment.

I got ready to go downstairs to sleep, when she grabbed my shirt, pulled me close, and kissed me --- softly, tentatively, sweetly.

I kissed her back, and banished all thoughts of desire.

We sat together and talked. She was terrified of me, of being hurt by me again, of allowing herself to care about me again. She has every right to be afraid. I hurt her unspeakably. I stayed quiet and listened to her, respecting her boundaries, expecting nothing.

She invited me to bed. I expected nothing. We got partway there and stopped and talked more about her feelings, her fears, her hurts. I listened and admitted my wrongs and apologised and wept. She said, "I'm cold." "Shall I get you a blanket?" I asked. "There are blankets in bed," she said.

I followed her to bed. "Are you assuming you can come to bed with me?" she demanded, frightened. I backed up quickly. "Um, you invited me to bed, before, remember?"

"No expectations. Things can change at anytime."

I agreed, and told her that was fine. We talked a bit more, and she invited me into bed again. She turned off the lights, so that it was utterly black. She asked me to cuddle closely. I did, and quenched my ardor. No expectations. She asked me to hold her in my arms. I did, and clamped down on my desire. No expectations. She asked me to kiss her. I did, and concentrated on the moment, banishing hope. No expectations. She asked me to brush my teeth more thoroughly this time. I left the bed, brushed and mouthwashed, and returned to the room. I asked permission to enter the bed, which she granted. "Good," she said. "Thank you for asking permission."

She asked me to kiss her again, which I did, for a long time. Then she said, "You may kiss me one more time."

I kissed her again, and it went on and on. I tried to kill my desire, but I couldn't. I killed hope instead, lest hopes be dashed and I become angry. She became warm and soft beside me, and put my hand on her chest. "Buttons," she breathed. I slowly undid each button of her pretty flannel nightgown, stopping to caress her skin with each one. I avoided her breasts, lest my vision blur in a haze of lust and passion and desire. I caressed every part of her torso but her breasts instead.

No expectations.

"Will you wear a condom?" she asked. "Of course!" I agreed, and complied with her request. And she welcomed me into her body, indicating by her soft cries that she attained the peak before I. And then I held her in my arms all night long.

What My Heart Says

"Baby, we've been spending a lot of time together. And you've indicated that you'd like me to back off for awhile. I'm overwhelming you, and I'm sorry for that. I'll back off, and spend more time away from you. No problem," I say, a thick ball of ice forming in the pit of my stomach.

We discuss the details for awhile, possibilities for frequency and scheduling, and I assure her that whatever she needs is okay.

Then, suddenly, she asks me, "What does your heart say?"

Shocked, I reply in a soft voice, "I don't think you can handle what my heart would say."

"You're probably right."

After a moment, I ask, "Do you want to hear it anyway?"

"Do you want to tell me?"

I hesistate, and then begin to speak.

"I love you. I love you with everything inside me. You are the person in the world I most want to spend time with, be friends with, discover, and love.

"I want to be with you. I want to do fun things together with you; community events, exploring nature, canoeing, hiking, fishing. I want to see movies and listen to music and act in plays and see bands with you. I want to spend time talking with you, discovering you, learning from you, sharing my heart and passion with you. I want to respect your need for solitude and individualism and privacy, and at the same time being always available to you to hear your heart whenever you need it. I want to be your friend.

"I want to go to dinners and lunches with you. I want to buy you flowers and treats and jewellery and pretty cards and lingerie and clothes. I want to create romantic moments with you. I want to explore the limits of my creativity to romance and bless and please you. I want to spend time memorising romantic poetry and recite it to you. I want to hold your hand and gaze deeply into your eyes, losing myself in them. I want to stare at your beauty and marvel at it, enraptured. I want to nourish and nurture the passion I feel for you, stoking the flames higher and higher. I want to ignite passion in you, intensifying it hotter and stronger, and then satiating it again and again. I want to be your lover and beloved.

"I want to buy some new rings. I want to plan a wedding with you. I want to write vows with you. I want to stand in a public place, in front of everyone that matters, and pledge new vows to you. I want to utterly divorce myself from the “old me", from our old marriage, from my preconceptions and misconceptions of the past. I want to pledge eternal fidelity, exclusivity, and sacrificial love to you. I want to pledge to join you spiritually, to be a leader in our family that you can respect. I want to pledge mutual submission to you; to always listen to you, to always try to understand you, to always take you seriously. I want to pledge to respect you, your needs, your thoughts, your ideas, your needs, your desires, your wishes. I would like to discuss with you the possibility of choosing a new family name that we could share together; not to end your individuality or connection with your heritage, but to create something with you that is completely new and special to us and our family, that we can all share in together.

"I want to become your husband.

"I want to love you. I want to love you the way you want and need to be loved, for the rest of our lives. I want to love you sacrificially and generously, not with expectations or demands but with selfless giving. I want to continue to grow and develop as a person, caring for my heart and meeting my own needs. I want to encourage your growth and independence and ability and confidence. I want to facilitate you becoming fully yourself, whoever you are, whoever you need to become. I want to be your partner in life, your supporter, your biggest fan.

"That's what my heart says."

"Why don't you write that down?" she suggests.

So I did.

Eliminating Expectations

"I can't deal with your expectations," she said firmly. "I was co-dependent for so long... meeting your expectations was the greatest pressure in my life. Anything you expected, or anything I thought you expected, I was compelled to fulfill. I can't do that anymore."

I looked at her and smiled. "Look, I don't have any expectations right now. We're not 'together' yet. I'm just trying to earn you back. I'm not doing all these things for you to manipulate or control you. I'm not keeping score or trying to be fair. I don't expect any response. Wherever you are at is okay."

"What about sex?" she challenged. "You want sex with me, and when you don't get it, your whole face changes. You're disappointed. You get angry. I can tell."

"Beautiful, that's not an expectation. It's just a hope. I hope you'll want me. I hope you'll begin to desire me. I hope you'll fall in love with me. When you are distant from me, I feel sad.

"I'm not getting angry. I get sad when my hope is deferred. I'm working to eliminate even the hope that you will want to make love to me, so that I can concentrate on just loving you with all my heart, with no expectation or hope. I am concentrating on giving my love and heart to you, not on receiving love in return."

She looked at my earnest face skeptically, then dismissed me and walked away.

Fair? There is no fair.

"I feel pressure," she said, twitching nervously. "You're being so good to me... you're doing and being everything I ever wanted and hoped and prayed and dreamed you'd be. And part of me wants you... and part of me wants to want you... but part of me is still so terrified of you. Of getting close to you, and being hurt by you again."

"Pressure?" I asked. "I'm not demanding anything from you. How am I pressuring you? What am I doing wrong?"

"You're not pressuring me, and you're not doing anything wrong. It's pressure I feel inside.

"There is duty and obligation," she said. "You're my husband. I should come back to you. It's the moral thing to do. It's expected. But I don't want to.

"And... how we are right now... it's not fair. You're being so good to me, meeting all my emotional needs, and I'm not giving you love or sex. I have all these rules and boundaries that you have to live up to, and you're giving me none. You're in love with me, and you desire me, and I don't feel the same way about you. It's not fair," she repeated.

"Fair? Fair? I'll tell you what isn't fair, Beautiful.

"It wasn't fair for me to live in depression for a decade, giving you little love and less hope. It wasn't fair for me to go looking for love in someone else. It wasn't fair for me to fall in love with someone else and not have those feelings for you. It wasn't fair for me to mourn the loss of the affair for two years. Fair?" I was angry now. "I treated you unfairly. I treated you badly. Our whole marriage wasn't fair."

"If I have to live like this, giving endlessly to you with little in return for the next ten years, then we'd finally get up to fair. Only then would you maybe owe me something. I'm not keeping score, you know. Because in my scoreboard, it's five thousand days of love on your side and seventy-two on mine. So don't you dare feel guilty and feel that it's not fair.

"Of course it's not fair right now. That's just balancing the unfairness you had to live with for so long."

She looked at me hard. "Do you really mean that? Do you really think that?"

"Yes. Yes, I do," I affirmed.

She held me for a long time, softly, gently, warmly. I murmured loving, extravagent words in her ear, and gently, slowly caressed her arms and back while holding her closely. I inhaled the fragrance of her curly hair, touching it tentatively with my fingers.

Then she pulled away, and said goodnight, and went to bed, and I left her again.

Inconsistency

She wants space. So I go.

But before long she asks me to come back. So I come back.

I stay late at work one day, getting home two hours later than normal. She's unhappy. "I wish you'd come home on time today. I needed you," she says.

I am thoughtful and attentive. I bring flowers. I tidy the house. I offer compliments continually. I help take care of the children.

At the end of the day, I offer to go. But she asks me to stay, so I stay.

I let her know that I desire her, and she says, "Maybe tomorrow morning."

In the morning, she says, "Do you want to go in to work a bit late?" Oh, yes, I most certainly do.

So I make the bed, join her for morning stretches, make lunches for the kids, do some other chores for the day, make sure the kids eat breakfast, get them out the door to school.

I turn to her, and she smiles brightly, eyes shining, and says, "When are you leaving?"

Um, uh... I'm... I'm not sure...

"Now would be good," she says.

"Did I do something wrong?" I ask, hurt and confused.

"No," she replies. "You're just... here. You need to go now. I need space."

She wants space. So I go.

Fear and Evidence

"I'm afraid," she said. "I'm afraid of getting close to you. I'm afraid that I'll fall in love with you again, and that you'll cheat on me again and hurt me again. Even more. If that's even possible."

"You have every right to be afraid," I replied gently. "I broke your trust. I broke your heart. I hurt you tremendously.

"Not only did I hurt you, but I hurt me, our children, our parents, our reputations... the consequences of my mistakes were incredibly far-reaching.

"I never, ever want to do that again."

She looked at me, her eyes large and fluid, and said nothing.

I didn't know what else to say, so I repeated myself, my throat choking with tears.

"I don't ever want to do that again.

"What I looked for in her, I could have had in you. Between God, and you, and good friends, I have everything I could ever need. I don't need to look elsewhere for love, the way I thought I did. I have everything I want right here."

I could see her heart softening. All I wanted to do was gather her up in my arms and take her to bed and hold her all day long. But I was already late for work, and she needed the time to process my words anyway. So I kissed her and blessed her and left.

"Wherever You're At is Okay."

She's not in love with me. She's promising me nothing, merely allowing me to demonstrate love to her. I am completely, head-over-heels in love with her. I think about her all day long while I'm at work, and on the train home, and when I'm alone, and when I'm with her, and anytime else I haven't mentioned. She consumes my thoughts, and I love it.

She isn't in love with me, but she likes my attentions. She likes me to put a hand on her, or be available for hugs. She likes me to tell her she's beautiful and that I'm in love with her. She likes presents and attention. And I'm happy to give it.

She likes me to be sexually aroused by her, but she doesn't have sex with me. It's incredibly frustrating, but I understand. It's where she's at at the moment, and I constantly tell her, "Wherever you are at is okay."

I hope and pray and long for the day that she will fall in love with me. I'm doing everything in my power to demonstrate that I've changed. She doesn't believe me yet, but there is hope. If she falls in love with me, it will all be worth it.

In Love Again

A couple months ago I fell in love with my wife, maybe for the first time. We were married for a decade and had four wonderful children. Then I fell in love (hard) with a young lady I worked with, who was a friend of the family. My affair never became sexual, but I lost my heart for way, way too long.

Before things got too out of hand, we were discovered. But it took me two years to get over the loss, and in the meantime, my wife left me. Six months after she left me, I fell in love with her again, and my world changed.

Am I scum? I certainly behaved as such. Do I deserve her back? Only insofar as I have changed my heart towards her, and can do what it takes to win her heart.

She says she is willing. But she has to fall in love with me, too. And that's going to take some serious work on my part.

Let's see how it goes...

Winning My Wife

I have to write somewhere. I can't write where I once did. My heart has to release some of this before holding it in kills me.

To know, and to be known. To love, and to be loved. These basic needs consume me, and having them not met is killing me.

I will write more about the long, arduous quest to win back my wife.