Hotel Bliss Guest Blog

Triumphs and Train Wrecks

Thursday night, my whole weekend was shaping up to be magical.

I went to visit my lovely friend. I’m going to call her Chloe, because I’ve always liked that name and it fits the wonder that I have for her. She’s one of those women who make me nervous. She’s beautiful, and centered, and so very strong. When I’m around her, I feel like a little girl with scabs on her knees. Awkward yet hopeful. I never can quite get myself to believe that I’m worthy of the positive regard of such an amazing creature.

I went to talk to her about our plans for the weekend. She had agreed to do me the honor of spending some loving time with my guy. So I went over to her house to talk about timing and plans. We had a lovely time talking and sharing girl stories. She kissed me for the very first time. What soft lips! What a tender, wonderful kiss! I stayed far to late, and left her house after a warm hug and an agreement for her to come over to my house on Saturday evening.

So I was excited and glowing when I picked Dave up at the airport the next morning. We spent the day making love. I’ve read that people instinctively close their eyes at the moment of orgasm because it’s too deep. We each have a core that we don’t share with anyone; a part of ourselves that is ours alone.  At the moment of orgasm, we cannot keep that piece of ourselves from shining out of our eyes, and so we unconsciously hide it by closing our eyes. And Dave held my face in his hands as we neared completion. Though we’ve never talked about that concept of hiding, we both consciously made the effort to gaze into each other’s eyes as we came.  It was one of the most profound experiences of my life. I’ve never felt safer or more loved than I did at that moment.

Later, we went to meet up with a small group of friends for drinks. We got to my favorite watering hole, and I saw my sweet friend from the wedding. The girl I knew in college and mentioned in the blog about that day. Tita. I hadn’t heard from her, but there she was! I went over and gave her a big hug and we started chatting.

Here’s where everything really starts to become complicated. We hadn’t really had the opportunity to catch up at the wedding. So, I left my group to chat and sat with her for a while. And she shared a shocking bit of information with me. My ex-husband has been lying about what happened during our divorce. Now, I knew that he was really fond of revisionist history.  I believed that I had enough love and acceptance inside me to let him be who he needed to be. But I had no idea that every person he talks to believes that I cheated on him. That I was the one who left. Though our marriage was ‘open’, he says that was only for me. He never had sex outside of our marriage. The three affairs that he had never happened. Only my one affair happened. And though he tried to be as loving and supportive as he could be, I just broke his heart and then I left him.

My first reaction to this revelation was to feel betrayed and angry. And it hurt to think that the people who called themselves my friends not only stopped talking to me after the divorce, but also believed every word he spouted. Tita said, “I’m so sorry that I didn’t question it. It didn’t fit with anything I knew about you, but I just let the bullshit slide by. And I’m so very sorry.”

It only took me a few moments to like his story. It’s so much better than the truth. Because the truth is that I was surprised and devastated when he demanded a divorce. And I spent a lot of time begging for another chance. And I worked so hard, with no reciprocity from him, to try and make our marriage work. When I looked back on what really happened, his story makes me look so much stronger and more self-assured. I thought it might be nice to let myself be the bitch in our divorce. So much better than being pathetic and desperate. But I couldn’t quite put it away. The knowledge stewed in the back of my mind and I had trouble sleeping that night. 

The next day, I bustled about the house making sure everything was ready for Dave’s date with Chloe. We went to Fredericks and bought her a nice little negligee for him to give her. And I got her a nice, sexy set at Victoria’s as well since her birthday is coming soon. As the time before her arrival grew short, I started to get nervous. And the tension inside me started to grow. I didn’t want to take the experience away from him, but my insecurity was starting to overwhelm me. She’s just so beautiful and interesting. And I was giving her carte blanche with my guy and his body. I set up a date for my lover to make love to another woman! What the hell was I thinking?

I expressed to both of them that it was important for me to push myself this way. To push my boundaries and really test if my open philosophy was something I could handle. I’ve always believed in my soul that sex and love come in two different packages. Having both is the ideal, but each one is valid and beautiful all on it’s own. And I really did feel like she was the perfect person to do this for me. Because I love them both. And how wonderful that they should get to meet and share their friendship as well!

Chloe arrived right on time looking lovely. She sparkles like sunshine on the water. And I introduced them, kissed him goodbye and all but ran out of the house. The plan was for me to disappear for the time that it took for them to have sex, and then they would let me know when I could come home, and we would chat and see where things led between the three of us. My stomach was churning, and I was just wracked with insecurity. So I went to the closest coffee shop with my journal in hand. I couldn’t write, but I found a nice man to chat with. Sometimes, it’s so easy to share with strangers something that you would never tell the people who know you. And when he asked why I was shaking and so obviously overwhelmed with anxiety, I just spilled it.

”Ok, this is probably in the realm of TMI. Do you really want to know?”
”Sure. I’ll even ask again. Why is such a lovely lady so obviously shaken?”
”I’m here, waiting for my boyfriend to finish making love to one of my dearest friends.”

After he got over his shock and amazement, he flirted and cajoled and charmed me. And he made me feel a little stronger. And a little sexier. He told me that I was an amazing woman. He said any man should feel blessed and honored to have a girl who so obviously loves and supports him. In short, he said all the things I needed to be telling myself. (Justin, where ever you are, bless you! I wish it had worked.) 

When the text came. . .”Come on home, darlin’. . .love you”. . .I showed it to Justin, hugged him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. And he said, “you’ll be fine. Even though I just met you, I know you will be as loving and open as you’ve shown me you can be.”

In the five minutes it took for me to drive home, my anxiety made a violent resurgence. I pulled into the drive, and just didn’t know if I could go in. I sat in my car in the driveway, shaking. Not sure if I was going to vomit. And I saw Dave look out the window. I knew they were inside waiting for me. I knew that if I didn’t go in, they would start to worry.

I let the thoughts rush over me for about two minutes. The man I love with every inch of my being just made love to one of the most amazing women I’ve ever met. They had sex in my bed. How am I ever going to ride him again and not imagine him seeing a much more beautiful woman doing the same thing? How is he ever going to look at me as I suck his cock and not wish that she were doing it? I can’t compare. I can’t be as gorgeous and dynamic. My breasts are never going to be as beautiful as hers. My kisses can’t possibly be as tender and sensuous. Oh, god. I fucked up.

And then I went inside, because I knew if I didn’t, they would both think that I was angry that they did this, and that wasn’t it at all. So I opened the door.

This next point, my friends, is the only thing in my life that I regret. I wasn’t honest with myself, or with them. They were sitting on my couch. She wore the outfit he bought her, and he was in his underwear. And they smiled and greeted me. Dave walked over and took my face in his hands and tried to kiss me and say, “I love you, and you’re still my favorite” and I shoved him away.  I said, “I feel like I may shatter. I need a glass of wine.” Chloe followed me into the kitchen.  I tried so hard to convey that I wasn’t upset with either of them, but upset about things that had little to do with the situation at hand. We managed about 10 minutes of conversation and interaction. She tried on my gift for me. And I tried to let them know that I still love them both. But I botched the whole thing. And my reaction turned a loving, beautiful event into something ugly.

She left because she said she understood that we needed to have a talk and some time to process. And I made him go remove any traces of their time together from my room. I couldn’t walk into my own bedroom. I told him to make the bed, and light some incense. I couldn’t even sit on my couch. I was shaking so badly that I kept sloshing wine over the sides of the glass. I ran a hot bath and climbed in hoping that it would relieve the tension inside me and allow me to stop shaking. And my poor sweet man walked on eggshells and tried to just be there and be supportive even though he really didn’t understand what was going on.

I sent him into my room to get me some clothes to put on. And I told him that I would NEVER be able to set up his trysts for him again. That it was too close. And that seeing them in their underwear when I came home was like a slap in the face, even though I had said that would probably be the best thing when we discussed it before the fact. He said, “Lover, I don’t understand what’s going on, but I’m just going to be here, and tell you that I love you, and I hope you’ll tell me that you love me too.”

It was then that I started to get angry with myself. I refused to let some inner voice keep me curled up and shuddering inside myself. I decided that I had to face my room. And I went in. I looked at my lovely bed, with its canopy that I built myself as an expression of my sensuality and beauty. And I was just so disgusted with myself and with that bitch inside my head that says I’m worthless and ugly. Dave walked in to find me stripping the bed. I tore everything off my bed and threw it. He said, “you don’t need to get violent”, and I told him that violence was just what I needed. I tore the canopy down, and threw that too. And I made that poor sweet man hide all of it in the closet. It wasn’t until I made him feel responsible for all my pain that I got real. Only then was I ready to admit that my entire reaction was a result of something I thought I had gotten over a long time ago.

I sat him down on the couch, and I made myself sit in the exact spot where she had sat. I couldn’t look at him. I cried as I admitted that I had almost called him Glen several times since I walked in and found them. I had to force myself to look at him and call him Dave. My habitual insecurity turned him into the man who used my love and acceptance against me. My ex-husband had three other women while we were married, and he put each one of them above me. He even married one of them. I had moved on and accepted that my ex was who he was, and it had little to do with me. But I guess the soul doesn’t forget as easily. Though I know that Dave is nothing like that, my conditioning was such that I couldn’t believe that he could have another woman and still value me.

If I’d been honest with myself from the moment I left them alone together, I might have been present and conscious when I got back home. I might have been able to admit that what I needed most was for the two of them to hold me and reassure me. If I could have let myself be in the middle of a hug with them, I think it would have done a lot to release all of that tension and anguish and help me accept that I am not less of a woman, or less important, or less lovely than I was two days ago. As it stands, they did everything I asked of them, and they took me at my word. And I fucked the whole thing up. And I’m just so very ashamed and horrified. I slept fitfully on the couch that night, until I heard him yell out in his sleep. He had a nightmare, and I think that might be my fault as well, because it’s never happened before. So I went and held him while he slept. And I lay there, awake and comforting the man I love, stewing about my behavior.

We spent Sunday reconnecting and reaffirming our love and acceptance of each other. And I overcame my fear of making love to him. I still can’t quite believe that he doesn’t picture her when he’s making love to me. But that’s my hang-up and my insecurity. I have trouble having faith in my own appeal. And I’m working on that. Dave just keeps saying that he loves me, and wants me to love me and see my own worth too. I’m trying.

We were lying on the couch last night, and he was holding me. And suddenly, I saw in my mind that moment when I shoved him away from me. He was just trying to reassure me and convey his love and I abused that gift. I sobbed before I could stop myself. He was immediately concerned and asked me what was wrong. When I told him what was running through my mind, I saw that flash of pain in his eyes. I put that pain there, and I’ll have to find a way to forgive myself for that. I made myself face my shame and look him in the eye. I told him that I will try my best to never allow myself to be so cruel again. It isn’t like me, and it isn’t something I ever wanted to do. My pain is not invalid, but it is also not his fault. And for me to bludgeon him with it was just so horrible and unfair.

So, dear ladies, there it is. Some triumphs. Some train wrecks. And I’m so very glad that it happened. I know that I’m going to be working on this issue for some time to come. My ex spent years teaching me to fear other women and their connection to my man. I wasn’t that way before I met him. And I thought that I had put away the ugliness that he cultivated. This event helped me to realize that while the wonderful, giving woman I used to be is still inside me, she’s been burned so badly that she still expects a firestorm. Even when there isn’t one anywhere near.

And I’ve let Dave know that I want to try again. I want us both to continue to feel free to have our own experiences.  I’ve always told him that I don’t want him if I have to cage him. And that’s still true. Though we choose to share our lives, we don’t want to own each other. And I know that when he does have another tryst with whatever woman he chooses, he’s going to be afraid of my reaction. But I also know that no matter what I’m feeling when that time comes, I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure I react honestly and with integrity. I didn’t this time, and I hope I’ve learned my lesson.

I’ve also apologized to Chloe. I feel like I need to apologize again. And again. And again. She acted out of love and kindness and caring, and I made her feel bad for that. I tried not to. But I didn’t succeed. She wrote this morning to say that she is happy to know that I don’t hate her and am still glad that she’s in my life. I hope that I’ll eventually be able to convey the fact that this event is helping me to heal and grow. I hope I’ll be able to get over my embarrassment and shame. I’m deeply saddened that I made this unpleasant for her, because she really was doing the Goddess’s work when she came to my house. Not in a way that any of us could have predicted, but Divine none the less. And I’m so glad that it happened with two people who genuinely love and respect me.

I know this is going to bring on some questions from all of you. At least I hope that is the case. Because you all have given me a forum where I can express this kind of experience and have the insight of loving women to help me process it.  Please, don’t be afraid to ask and question. I really do need the assistance of my sisters to rebuild myself in my best form. And this might just be the first time I’ve ever felt strong and safe enough to ask for real help in being the woman I want to be.