Cool Hand Luke

“What we have here is–failure to communicate.”

I sent him a letter back in November 2016 when it all kicked off. I didn’t think I was thinking clearly then but I obviously was as I could definitely write the same letter today. My opinion hasn’t changed.

The only thing that has changed after me wrtiting this waw finding out about his second affair with slutface. At this point I was only concerned about bitch. I Hadn’t uncovered the true complexities of his tangled web.

I had to dig it out and reread it 7 months after the whole explosion. I still do not get real answers. I am painted as the bad one, the maniuplative one, the crazy, “poisonous” ex. I know more than he thinks I do and I always have. The more I know the less I understand as none of it makes sense to me.

The main thing I will never forgive is the ease with which he carried it all out. No sweat. The slickness. The unrelenting lies, the level of deciet. I know I am going over old ground yet there are loads of incidents I haven’t written about yet. Way too many…

How do I forgive? Do  forgive? I am less raw, that is a good thing. I feel like myself again. The one sad thing he does not seem to realise is that he is still in the fire. Everyday it gets stoked. He is scared to be by himself it seems. He does not know who he is. He has not lived alone, he has not discovered himself and never will whilst he is living in the dire situation he is. I think he thought he could follow a repeat of what he put us through before. Slink off then return once I’d calmed down. I will never calm down from this ( I know I will – I have already but that is only thanks to other people). Not him. He has never truely held my hand, had my bakc, had the kids back, he has never been my rock. I have been his anchor, his sail, his wind.

We were at two opposites ends of the same relationship. Meeting in the middle only happened rarely. Here are my past words that echo on:

I am a mess but I will be okay. I will manage our children OK. I will be strong for them. Your actions have made me feel every emotion possible. I feel stupid, used, ignorant. I believed in us. I believed in our family unit. This is not who I am, these feelings will pass. I can’t believe you didn’t hold fast, explain before now, deal with your issues in other ways, talk to me, not her. If you were confiding in her then I feel I must have been the problem, our children the problem. You knew you were wrong all along. You knew I hinted at the problem – seeing her.  But I was decent and couldn’t stamp my feet and demand you don’t see your friend /ex colleague /tenant Bitch.
Yet another name that will haunt me. You corrupted our future. The plans was to have a tenant to make our lives easier, their rent pay our mortgage, use our old flat to provide a future forX. What future is ahead for him now? You fucked our tenant hence you fucked up our family’s future…
It’s not as you said it was is it? Or did you still tell her I had moved out 2 months after having Y? I bought your explanation that we had drifted apart, I had moved out for a bit and you didn’t know when I was coming back but you must have had sex with her before we went to Aberfeldy. True?
Then delayed for a few weeks before it happened again in August? I looked back on old texts you sent me. Late in work, impromptu stag do’s, pint with R, walking home. Yes most of the time you were telling me truths of where you were but the odd times were mixed in there too. Camouflaged.
Your actions disgust me. I am appalled. This letter is in no particular order so forgive me if I jump about all over the place.
I remember dropping your mum off at her flat one time and me and her were talking about your relationship with Bitch. How you’d ran to her aid a few times (around the time of the M thing). She asked me if I thought there was anything going on. I said no. She said that you needed to watch yourself and put your family first.
I can recall numerous conversations between you and me where I let it be known I didn’t trust you, you were always late home, working too many days, going to pub and I didn’t get to go out – just stuck at home going mad until you decide to come in. I gave you the benefit of the doubt but something niggled at me concerning your actions and behaviour. I thought you were fed up of me complaining about breastfeeding, going mad with the hum noise and I stupidly gave you that space and didn’t demand too much of you.
Hell, I’ve never demanded too much of you. Perhaps when we were doing up the house you felt you couldn’t live up to my expectations of what a guy is supposed to be able to do, DIY wise. But I loved you for trying and knew you were out your comfort zone but was proud you were trying, were sticking at it for your family. I thought it may give you pride to achieve this for your family. Not resent it.
You have never expressed any desire to shoulder any of the financial burden of running a home, paying bills, organising insurance, sorting out council tax, utilities, insurances. I bet you don’t even know who our gas or electric supplier is.  If I died you’d be in shit, it would collapse around you and the kids. You never ask if we are OK with payments or what needs looking at. I am sick of holding it all together whilst you get the life of freedom and absolved responsibility because I take care of all that side if things. What side of things do you take care of? Your own pleasure? Your money is your own to do with what you please save of buying shopping and things for kids. Yes you contribute in other ways – cooking, domestic chores, child rearing for that I do appreciate you and think you are a fantastic dad.
You know how traumatic carrying Y was, making it through the pregnancy. Me being so ill was horrendous on everyone in family. I needed and received your support then. You assisted me through that. After she was born it was hell too. Yes, there were moments of loveliness but I always felt I was faking it. Like it was just a game and I should be playing the role of a mother but I didn’t know the script or the lines, it all felt awkward, clunky and confusing. I was in too deep. I regretted my decision to alter our lives so dramatically…. I was going to baby massage, I broke down in front of health visitor, I wasn’t me, this life didn’t fit me yet I had planned for it. No going back. My expectations did not match reality hence depression/ anxiety kicked in.
But you andBitch had already started by then. Y arriving is not the true catalyst in this is it? Your selfishness is. You putting your needs before trying to hold your family together. Maybe you resented me for changing your life but you didn’t even give Y a chance. 8 weeks old and you chose to spend free time with Bitch with the added bonus that you managed to get into her pants.
It must have been 7 or 8months before we had sex again. But you never wanted to. Were always reluctant to or “too tired”. I thought you were scared of getting me pregnant again. I also remember it popping into my head that if you are seeing someone else or “getting it elsewhere”, you didn’t want to sleep with me because then it would be like you were cheating on them (Bitch). Which I think is a bit true now. If you are not sleeping with both of us at the same time then you are not mixing it up and you can legally tell her that we do not have sex anymore. The signs were there for me but I patted them down and just thought you didn’t fancy me anymore, I was too plump, too mumsy, nor alluring, too knackered. But I felt your distance. Switched off from sex? You, who loves fucking? I thought you were just relying on watching porn to satiate you. Which still hurt me but at least I was used to knowing that about you.
Then I found your Ashley Madison account but in a way knew you had been a sucker as it was a semi hoax site to get money off men. I asked and you denied ever meeting up with anyone or having an affair but all the time you were. “Anyone else I should know about?”.  That was the time you stormed out and I felt I had hit a nerve as I had never ever seen a reaction like that from you. You didn’t do what any innocent party would have done –  you didn’t reassure me or say I was being daft, that you’d never cheat on me, you went completely opposite and flipped. I filed that away and hoped you were just annoyed at me for reading your emails.
Then you got a new phone. New email address that you never gave me. Always secretive and possessive with your phone. Had it on you 24/7, slept with it under your pillow. Never left it lying about like a relaxed person would. I again thought it was just porn being hidden but another small alarm bell went off. You were always looking at your phone to the point it annoyed me. You couldn’t interact with our children without it being in your hand. I kept quiet.
I desire to see the texts, messages, emails between you andBitch. I think it would help me understand. Yes I am sure there are some conversations I would balk at for their utter lies and fabrication but I am sure there would be others that would explain your course of actions, your neediness, your desire, your requirement for freedom, autonomy, how you painted a picture of your life.
I was truly hurt you could not confide in me over the death of your father. What a huge thing to deal with and not mention. I cannot know how this feels. Your situation is unique. Your dream of him coming calling, making amends, gone. What an awful hurt to bear on your own. Why tell her 4 years later and not me at all? I cannot fathom your thought process in dealing with his death. I know it was a large topic of conversation or a bonding point between you andBitch but it was 4 years ago why use that to get close to someone. I feel you used it to your advantage because she asked me to tell her about “poor dead daddy dearest”, “the Jewish father”, in such a cruel way that I obviously had no idea what she was talking about. And how you went to his funeral as far as I remember her saying, or maybe it was me that asked that – it’s slightly blurry as you can surely imagine. Talking to a women who’s involved with the love of my life, telling me things about you that I don’t know, telling me my story as conveyed to her, which is a pack of lies. How galling to hear the truth from her yet it sounds like you strung her along too.  I hope you are still reading this and not closed it in disgust. I wish you would write me like this so I can get a fucking clue as to who you really are. I know you used the same lines and jokes on her that we shared. Your “sex doll face” being just one of the examples I happened to see. It’s like you morphed parts if your real life into your fake fantasy life to give it a semblance of reality and tangiblity to what was familiar to you. You can’t hide all of yourself from someone. But it hurt to see our shared things become yours and hers things too. I nearly puked when I read the “I love you”s between you both. My world collapsed into some unravelling spiral, with no solidity under my feet. Grasping at the air, holding on to nothing. But it hit me, I knew it was all true, that there’d be nothing you could say to make me think it was a mistake, that I’d taken it out of context. The amount of texts between you both when you were away in Iceland and before staggered me. Me, X, we got a few cursory lines she got gushing miss yous and can’t waits.
Fuck you! You are despicable! I hate you yet cannot turn my back on you for you are part of me. You are my limb. I am nothing without you in my life. I cannot fathom this, I am drowned.
There’s worse I tell myself, we can get through this I tell myself yet it has already gone. It is just the habit and your shape in my mattress that shows you did belong.
You cannot get angry at me for wanting the details, you cannot get angry at me for reminding you of your duplicity. It must have been special for it to have been going on so long. Mad, passionate lust I can understand, thinking with your dick I can understand but knowing you, you have blurred the lines and tried to keep it as friends yet seen an opportunity at the same time to do something you have always burned to do – fuck someone else apart from me. If you had came to me and said, B, I am unhappy that I will never know what it is like to be with another, to know the feel of another woman’s body, too feel the inside of another cunt, to have my mouth around breasts that aren’t yours I would have taken you seriously. I knew you could not go your whole life with just me, you needed to see for yourself, we could have worked something out.  Yes a bit unconventional but honest. You would then understand and know, well from my point of view, there is no fuck that counts more than the ones you can have with that deep connection. I thought we had that deep connection. Your touch still spins me, tingles me, my desire for you whilst not at full burn is always there simmering. The heat can be turned right up should the occasion allow and you know that when we have it good it is really fucking good. I sort of knew you had been with someone else as your technique changed. Trying to reach my gspot was an unusual, new act for you. You never licked me out anymore, which you used to love? Tell me about your connection with her, was it animalistic, purely functional? Missionary? I know she sucked your cock, did you tongue her cunt, throw her on her front, take her from behind? Did she swallow? Did she dress up for you? What the hell did you have that could replace me?
We are each other and perhaps we have both drifted without realising? Perhaps this is our chance to reconnect? That will take honesty perseverance, openbook, tantrums, anger, weeping, rebuilding stronger. Is it worth that effort? Forget the kids. Is it worth it for us? Can we improve or get better than we have ever had it at our past pinnacles? I honestly do not know my answer to this. It is too early on in the raw process. I do know at the moment I cannot stand to look at you, you look pathetic. I want to reach out to you because you are my boy but there is a wall there now. A wall of disgust and anger I do not know how to get over.
Perhaps we have served our purpose together? We have made two beautiful children. Perhaps that is our legacy only? Is it now time to enter someone else’s live’s? Is it time to concentrate on yourself? Discover a greater you? Maybe I can rediscover myself? I am so stuck it stinks. Same job, same friends, same partner. Everything is long term with me. Perhaps I need to shake it up a bit. Maybe this is what we both need?
We may split yet come back together. Yet what I do not want you to do is run off with her. Okay, I do not “know” her but she is not right for you, you were not honest with her so she has fallen for the crafted version of you, not the true you, she would not like the true you if she was in my position. You put her in a ghastly place. I could understand if she knew she was the other woman and played the bit on the side role to perfection, callous, cruel, uncaring  towards your kids, just wanting you and you alone but I don’t believe she is all that else you wouldn’t have fallen for her. There are so many twists in this it is impossible to pick apart.
The ball is in your court. I asked you to leave as I cannot stand seeing you. When I look at you I relive the pain. When I think of our daughter I relive the pain. During her short life you have already been unkind to her. Yes I was right to say “what would your gran make of this?” Your daughter’s namesake. I thought you were proud of and loved your gran. I allowed you to pass her memory on through our daughters name. Now I feel like I am stuck with a child whose name was all about you and your life all the while you couldn’t be bothered in doing the decent thing  for her. What a mess…
What if your mum knew your dad died, what if that spurred her into splitting with shuggie? Life’s too short analogy kicked in? What if he was the love of her life that turned sour because he fucked about after she had given birth to you? Do you know their story or just think you do? Be brave and ask your mum. She will not be surprised at you asking.
One thing this whole thing has done for me is make me less scared. I can open my mouth now and not be timid about what comes out, I feel wise and this experience will make me wiser, I can help others with their problems, I can vocalise my true opinions. It has made me feel alive again. Like a teenager with all the emotions swirling round again. I need to find a new Morrissey though as he doesn’t work for me anymore, try as I might. I am beyond what his lyrics can get me through. It is not angst for the desire of future love or making sense of strange emotions. I know my emotions too well now to be surprised the only trouble I have is navigating the path into old age and rearing children and who sings about that? We are not rioting against unrequited love, yearning for one we cannot have, we now understand the complexities of life, they are not as smooth as leather and never were. We are not virgins waiting to be swept up. We have so much baggage we cannot be swept, it holds us down, yet gives us comfort that we had everything we needed in those bags but require a clear out!
Is this enough for you to understand me in all of this? Some of what I have written may read harshly, blunt and cruel. These are words, not actions. My actions towards you have never been deceitful. I have been truly honest with you throughout our years together. Apart from that one kiss I have now confessed to. (I used to see him around work and avoid him like the plague. I could have pursued it, he would have had me but I had no wish to dilute us or end what we had together). I shall leave you with a poem that breaks my heart and hopefully conveys my feelings of my love for you, X and Y.
Love Me xxxx


The weight of the world
is love.
Under the burden
of solitude,
under the burden
of dissatisfaction

the weight,
the weight we carry
is love.

Who can deny?
In dreams
it touches
the body,
in thought
a miracle,
in imagination
till born
in human–
looks out of the heart
burning with purity–
for the burden of life
is love,

but we carry the weight
and so must rest
in the arms of love
at last,
must rest in the arms
of love.

No rest
without love,
no sleep
without dreams
of love–
be mad or chill
obsessed with angels
or machines,
the final wish
is love
–cannot be bitter,
cannot deny,
cannot withhold
if denied:

the weight is too heavy

–must give
for no return
as thought
is given
in solitude
in all the excellence
of its excess.

The warm bodies
shine together
in the darkness,
the hand moves
to the center
of the flesh,
the skin trembles
in happiness
and the soul comes
joyful to the eye–

yes, yes,
that’s what
I wanted,
I always wanted,
I always wanted,
to return
to the body
where I was born.

Allen Ginsberg



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s