The story begins after partial infindelity on Bettes part that is to say no F****** has taken place, no miscarriage or baby talk at this time either.



I never thought that I would ever fall out of love, and certainly not with Bette. But after waking up for what feels like a lifetime on my own side of the bed I believe that that is what has happened. How did love in infinity change into and entity with a beginning and an end?

I remember a time when my life was filled to the brim with the all encompassing feeling of love for my life, for Bette and for myself. Pride, strength, happiness and ease. Those were the feelings I relished daily for a long time. I am desperate to have those feelings back, to truly own them once again.

I fear that my impending journey towards recovering happiness will take me away from my life as I know it – away from Bette. I don’t want to leave her, but I know that part of me has already left. I find myself looking at her, wondering how her features have lost their ability to draw me in until I loose myself in her eyes. Sometimes I feel a shiver, but not the tingling of new love, instead it is the kind you experience when you are cold and your body tries to relieve its discomfort by shivering. As if I am physically trying to shake that one feeling that keeps coming back with ever increasing force. Estrangement. But am I the estranged wife or is she?

I keep forcing myself to look at her, hoping that I can somehow get past that feeling. But now I fear that the only thing that that will accomplish is to make the numbness I feel permanent. Days pass and all I have are hours, and some days only minutes of contentment that seem to be more related to the times when my discomfort in my own life does not manifest itself physically.

I try to escape the feelings by working as much as possible. I cook meals that can be made quickly and eaten even quicker. I even made a suggestion that we only eat dinner at home in the weekends only to then make plans that would allow us to have company or me working through meal times. Anything to avoid the feelings of anger, frustration and pent up rage that seems to resurface whenever we have to share silence. I forgave her -didn’t I? I still love her – don’t I?

Maybe my silence will force a reaction from her that will clear that up for me. I am glad that she can’t read my mind although it is that same feeling of synchronization that comes from knowing each others minds that I long for the most. I remember what that felt like, and I regret the loss of that connection, in fact I mourn it in my every waking hour. How can sadness feel so permanent?

I think I gave up trying to hide my discomfort. At least it feels like I am being left alone, and I do believe that my reluctance to share my space with her is the reason for this new way of enduring our life together. We sit at different ends of the sofa if and when we share it. The king size bed has a new purpose; a reality that still sometimes leaves my crying quietly in the night.
I don’t know why I am hiding my sadness. Sometimes I think it is just my way of having some sort of control. What if one day she was to confront me in search of answers, solutions and worst of all reassurance?

All I want is for her to become invisible until I figure out my next move.

My wife is now my former lover and I have begun to look for a new one. I feel my eyes wandering and my body aching for release. My mind is no longer in control. I can no longer define my sexual needs. I have started looking at men again. Remembering the feelings that I had for Eric. Remembering how good he could make me feel. How appreciated and powerful I felt when we made love. It was simple, being with Eric. I was never afraid of loving him because I knew the love I had for him would never be deep enough for me to drown in. But with Bette it was different. Lovemaking was different. But somehow it changed. She has taken me places I never even really wanted to visit. She took me over the edge many times, but the price I paid for that kind of ecstasy seems to have been my individuality. I loved how she would initiate foreplay and how she could make me do things I never thought possible. Now it feels like she may have broken me in doing so.

Sometimes I think she caused me to stop asking for sex. The roles in the bedroom stopped being fluid. She was the giver and I was the taker and those roles somehow found their way into other aspects of our lives. I have lost all initiative and willingness to be in charge. My ability to take responsibility even for little things has all but vanished.

I want it to be her fault that I am confused. I want it to be all her doing. The mere thought of it being about me changing is simply too complicated. I don’t want to face that feeling of disorientation. I don’t think I am strong enough to face it alone, but today I have accepted to head a two year project in Latin America.

I want her back and still it is I, who is leaving.