Just Don't do it for You

My wife and I talk a lot more than we did before she and I had affairs. I always thought we communicated well, and it was what held our marriage together. We had communicated well at the interpersonal awareness workshop we were attending when we met, and I always thought that had carried on. I could not have been more wrong. Instead we both became less inclined to share ourselves with our partner as a result of real, perceived, or imagined emotional attacks or injuries. Now we talk more, and the conversations don't always flow smoothly. Sometimes we have these talks with the aid of our therapist. More often these days we are able to do it on our own, although we still see him about twice per month as a couple. Sometimes, during these talks, my wife comes up against our differences, what I have called incompatibilities in the past, and she will say "Maybe I just don't do it for you". And maybe she doesn't. But with two lovely daughters to care for, we are strongly inclined to stay together for their sake. They are busy now with coloring pages and others activities for children their age. After all, my wife and I don't yell, scream, or throw things at each other. We are not emotionally or physically abusive.We are just not as happy as we should be. Or at least I am not as happy as I should be, most times my wife can be pretty happy with me. Last night I had a dream that caused me to awake with a start, and have a hard time returning to sleep. For months now I have had a recurring dream. In it, I have a project that I am working on with, or for, my wife. It's something that doesn't quite make sense, something about lending her a certain number of cd's or something like that. But the project is something I am doing at the request of her and her therapist. And for awhile now its been not making any progress. And then last night, in my dream, my wife told me that her therapist said "Perhaps you are just not that into her" I guess I know what to talk to my therapist about tomorrow. That and the feelings I had last Thursday, about which I already posted.

Writing Chapters

I'm feeling a little discouraged after my session this afternoon with my therapist. I talked about my feelings of not making much progress during the past 9 months of marital counseling. And the feeling that most of what led me to an affair remains the same. His response, among several, was that I might be surprised to know how many couples divorce after their children graduate high school. And that our lives often have many chapters to them, and perhaps this is just one of many that will be the story of my life. And how he knows many people that divorced later in life and remarried to find levels of fulfillment and joy that they had not thought possible. Oh, and some cryptic references to finding someone that would make me genuinely happy once I was more available, should my path eventually lead to divorce. Not very cheerful stuff. Perhaps I have been still hoping to find that magic button that would improve things for me, the way my wife seems to have found a way to be happier than she was several years ago. But after my conversations today with my therapist, that seems a lot less likely now.

I Was Being Watched

The little converted two car garage Bill and I lived in for a couple of years actually had four rooms and a full bath. There were two bedrooms on one side, with the bath off the one in the back of the “house” and a very small living room and eat in kitchen on the other half. The bath had a clawfoot tub, a toilet that you couldn’t use unless you closed the door, and a tiny sink in between. Over the tub was a regular size window and I only covered the lower half as I like a lot of light, plus we backed up to an unused field so I wasn’t concerned about being seen while in the bath. Now, I don’t know about your guys, but when my girls were toddlers, they didn’t want me out of their sight. I learned early on that it was easier just to leave the bathroom door open so that I didn’t have to listen to “Mom? What are you doing? Or “Mom? When will you be out?” over and over again. Privacy, at that time of my life, was rare indeed. So, when Bill suggested he take the girls out with him to do yard work one fine spring afternoon so that I could take a leisurely bath by myself, I jumped on the chance.

And then I jumped into the tub after filling it with warm, scented water, opened my book and, as I lowered myself almost completely under water, I felt like I’d be able to relax for a change. Outside, I could hear the girls squealing with delight, most likely at something silly their dad was doing to make them laugh, and I smiled. It was a beautiful day, all the windows were open to let in the balmy Savannah air and I could smell the scent of freshly mown grass. Heaven. The relaxation didn’t last however, because after just a few minutes, my antennae went crazy. Suddenly, I just knew eyes were on me. I sat up and looked around to the window but could see no one. I tried to settle back into the water, but my unease wouldn’t go away and I began looking all around the tiny bathroom… outside the tub on the floor, on the walls, etc. Anyone knowing my terror of cockroaches will understand when I say I was positive I had company and there was no way I was going to stay in the same room with a roach of any size. As much as I looked, I couldn’t find anything until… I looked up at the open door and there, sitting on top, was a green lizard, staring at me.

I screamed bloody murder, splashed water all over the place getting out of the tub and running into the bedroom, naked as the day I was born. Bill came running inside, telling the girls to stay back as he had no idea what to expect. I grabbed a robe, dripping water all over the place, as I pointed to the doorway. It took Bill a couple of seconds to see the lizard and then… he burst out laughing. The lizard didn’t appear to be the least bit amused or even interested with all the commotion and he just sat there, staring at us until Bill reached up and snatched him off the top of the door. Bill took the lizard outside and released him into some shrubbery where Bill said he would be safe from me. I wasn’t amused either, especially since that pretty much ended my leisurely bath for the day. Then... a couple of weeks later, as I was taking a bath while the girls were napping, I again felt like I was being watched. This time, when I turned around and looked out the window, a pair of human eyes stared back. Scared and shocked, I gasped, grabbed a towel and ran out of the bathroom but for some reason, I didn’t scream. I called Bill whose place of business was only a few minutes away and he was home in about 6 minutes.

When Bill went around to the back of the house, he saw where a bucket had been placed beneath our bathroom window which enabled someone to see in if they were at least 5 and a 1/2 feet tall. We figured it was a teenage boy, so we started asking around the neighborhood if anyone else had had a similar experience. Unfortunately, we discovered the young man of 19 was the son of our landlords, who were embarrassed beyond words. A little more investigation and the kid admitted he was the peeping tom. It turned out that some of our neighbors knew it was him but, because his parents were such good people, they didn’t want to call the police. Neither did we after the landlords convinced us their son would be getting help for his little problem. Needless to say, I installed full size window treatments in our bathroom immediately after this incident. Even though I never saw another lizard on top of the door or another peeping tom at the window, I was glad to have such keen instincts. And eventually, I did get another chance to have a relaxing bath.

What are You Listening to?

Do you listen to music constantly? I do. My tastes are all over the map. Currently I have been mixing in a little heavy metal and hard rap with my regular tunes, mostly as a result of my workouts at the health club. I purchased an iMix entitled Pumping Iron, put together by the good folks at Apple, and it included some music that I never would have thought to give a listen. But some of those songs go great when lugging around heavy dumbbells (anything over 55 pounds I call heavy). I have also discovered a service called www.lala.com that facilitates trading CD's, and stumbled upon a site that have nothing to do with my music preferences but it make's me think about my weight problem. It's not very good if you are looking to expand your permanent collection. But it's allowed me to sample some music I wouldn't normally buy. As well, the possibility exists to rip the cd onto your pc and then trade it to someone else. You do pay approx. $1.99 for each cd you receive. But with iTunes charging half that for one song, it's a pretty good deal. 'Course, they don't have everything you might want to hear, like Earth Wind and Fire by example, but it's okay.

Hey Bill… Is That You?

In our early years of marriage, Bill and I lived in a converted two car garage to the right and behind our landlord’s house. It consisted of two bedrooms, a living room and eat in kitchen. What can I say, it was cheap and since Bill was still helping his mom out financially, it was all we could afford. Our landlord’s son was in high school, and his old red swing set was just outside our kitchen door, to the side of the house, and our landlord said our kids were to consider it their own. Since my girls were quite young, they both played on it constantly so there was a always a metallic jangling sound heard around our house throughout the daytime. To make ends meet, Bill worked weekend nights as assistant manager at a nearby drive-in theater. This was actually great because I could watch all the movies I wanted for free. I would put a pillow in the backseat for my oldest, Toni, and another in the front seat beside me for Sandi, the baby. Bill would come out and visit us when he could get a break and bring me free popcorn and cokes. Bill had to close up each night, so he always got home well after the movies ended.

One Saturday afternoon, he had told me he’d be even later getting home that night because the manager was having a party for his employees to celebrate the birth of his first child. Free booze, whoopee. I had put the kids down for the night and had gotten into bed myself with a book. Let me say here, while I was always paranoid about locking up at night, I wasn’t afraid to be alone in an empty house. And since this was in the early 60s, it was a different time for us all. I have no idea what time it was, but something woke me up; a sound that was a bit familiar, but curious all the same. I immediately called out Bill’s name. No answer. His pillow looked indented, like he had laid down, and after I got out of bed, I noticed his clothes piled up on the little chair on his side of the bed. I called out to him again, but still no answer. Then I heard that sound again and recognized it as the metal jangling on the swing set. Getting a flashlight, I turned it on and immediately went to open the kitchen door. I waved the light over the swing set and called Bill’s name again. Something was up because one of the swing’s was, well, swinging gently. Since there was no heavy winds, I knew something or someone had made the swing move and I felt pretty sure it was Bill.

So, I took my trusty flashlight and proceeded around to the front of the house and there I found him, in all his glory. Naked behind the hedges, hands clasped around his more intimate area. It seems that Bill had had too much to drink and, after the bed wouldn’t stop spinning, he knew he’d have to upchuck. He didn’t want to wake me or the girls, so he went outside via the kitchen and was in the process of giving his stomach some relief when he heard me calling. When he saw that I had a flashlight and that I was determined to come outside looking for him, he dashed around the corner so that he wouldn’t be in the spotlight. Once we stopped laughing, he slept like a baby. I don’t think there was anyone of my family or friends that I didn’t relate that story to over the next few days, and we all had a good laugh at Bill’s expense. To give him credit, he always had a good sense of humor so he laughed right along with us and would reenact how I had followed him around the house and into the yard, until he was exposed. Fortunately, our landlord, the neighbors and the kids all remained in their beds, and never heard a thing.


Gosh, that last post sure was negative! Sometimes it almost feels like I need to let out the negativity and then I feel better. That's certainly what happened over the last 24 hours. Nothing else changed, but I feel better. Perhaps its recognition that I am not crazy for feeling that my wife and I just aren't meant to be together long-term. Maybe its having some idea of a time frame for the upcoming major events in my life, Job in 12 months after my youngest goes to Middle School. Divorce when she graduates high school in 8 years, damn, that's too long! And of course there is another side to the whole affair; my wife's. Perhaps she would blame more of our difficulties on me not being in touch with my emotions. Or being borderline depressed. Or who knows what else. These are the ones I can think of based on things from the history of our relationship. And some of them have an element of truth to them. But mostly we get along ok, and I hope to continue to get along ok with her for as long as possible. For even though I think the world of my ex-lover, I never thought we had a long-term future together, and I still don't. So there's nobody for me to run off with into the sunset...

Don't be Afraid of Colors

Sometimes you have a photo that is good, but not perfect. The composition is nice, the exposure is correct, and the subject stands out. It's okay as a black and white, and a pretty good sepia, but it just needs something else. Some little color, some little something, so don't be afraid to bring that little something back. It can really make the difference between okay and pretty neat. In most of the cases the subject just is't enough. Se the portofolio of fotograf profesionist bucuresti. What do you think? Jane Gaston. A self taught decorative artist, this is my third career at 68 and I'm loving it! Spent first third of my adult life in public relations, working for other people. The next third was spent in publishing where, after working for others, I was able to create and manage a successful magazine in Cairo, Egypt for about 6 years. After repatriating back to the States to Atlanta (where my 3 children lived), I worked as Managing Editor of a women's magazine for several years before being forced into retirement. After unsuccessfully trying to find a job for almost 2 years, one of my daughters suggested we go into business together and relocate to a smaller town where we could buy an endangered historic home and renovate it. We've now lived in Kinston NC for 5 years and I've been president of the Historic District Commission most of that time. As well, I helped develop the Mitchelltown Preservation Society with a great neighbor and we're all working hard to restore this historic district. This is now my life!