The Wife is always the Last one to Know

cliché but true. Although I could hardly be expected to pick up on subtle clues while living in the lovely mist of happy pills, Now Could I. Almost a week ago I stopped taking the happy pills because as pleasant as it is to be a Stepford Wife, the effects on my GI tract had finally reached the unbearable. And for the record, I did not “stop taking them” so much as I consecutively forgot to take them and by the fifth day of forgetting, the Happy Fog was gone, I was back on my game and the pieces fell into place.

So while I WAS the last to know, it wasn't because I've been in denial. I was chemically impaired. Then suddenly last night I had The flash of awareness—Rich is having an affair.

If I were arguing for the Defense I would point out that it is a clear case of Stockholm Syndrome. But then, I'm not arguing for the Defense. Am I.

Oh yeah, the clues were all there, and any non-Stepford Wife would have closed the case long ago, and I pride myself on being a little smarter than the average bear, Boo-Boo. Once the lovely mental goo drained away, what was the spark that caused that final synapses to fire? I don't know if this will make sense, but here it is....
One hundred times in the past few months I have told Rich, ”I miss you....” and he has always given me the same response. Last night, for the 101st time I said to him, “I miss you...” and for the 101st time I got the same response, only THIS time the light bulb flashed.

Like always, he said, “I miss me, too.”

Take as much time as you need to process that. If you're a heterosexual man, you may want to consult a woman or a gay man.

For the first 100 times that response did not register at all for me other than to confirm that he had heard me. Last night that response lit a three inch fuse, and in the explosion I realized my husband has a mistress. If I need to put the dots closer together—
A) his response is never “I miss you, too.” For a split second I thought it was because it's All About Him, but B) he's not that selfish.
Ergo, if it's not me, and it's not him... A + B = C, and what begins with “C”? That's right boys and girls, Mistress Cancer has her hooks in him but good.

I understand that she is not going to die or leave. I can be flexible. I can share. ( I've said before that I would consider a sister wife if she shared the load.) But I'm really pissed with this current arrangement. She has him physically, mentally and emotionally. I will not even use the word FAIR. Fair is a festival with food and music that is happening somewhere else. This just sucks.

Without the Happy Pills that take irritable bowel syndrome to an exotic room in hell, I leave Stepford Land and realize Mistress Cancer has muscled me into being a nurse 24-7. No vacation, no perks, no fringe benefits.

What to do. What to do.

Hmmm. I could go back on the Happy Pills and resume my Stepfordness. With that comes the absolute hell between my duodenum and the porcelain, which admittedly distracts me from all things EXCEPT being pleasant to everyone and everything I encounter. On the UP side, totally obliterating my libido as far back as memory allows. BUT. Before you Go There.... I need to explain that I am firmly convinced that sex on Viagra/Cialis is worse than sex with a male prostitute, because if it's going to be that damn mechanical, I'd rather it be with a stranger, and THAT is worse than none at all. Furthermore, if I have to bury MY desires for 18 months, I'm going to need a magic pill too, because I can't find the switch that turns THAT back on just because he can take a pill. (And I can't blog for shit when the whole world is artificially pleasant)


OR... I could return to ME, hacking and slashing my way through this jungle perception of “Reality”, on the road to find out, trying to grow my spirit.

I know what Rich means. I miss me, too.

So Rich has Stockholm Syndrome Mistress Cancer. I'm good. I've got Kenny, Olivia, Madeline, Tessa and the one yet to be named. I've got Lynn and Christy, Chris and Alicia, Richard Bach and Douglas Adams, Lewis Black and James Taylor, and Enya.

I get by with a little help from my friends.

But I will admit I think the Bitch should kick in with some of the chores.

TIP of the DAY: Bitching about the weather doesn't affect the weather; Bitching about the weather does affect you and the people around you.