I found an outlet, theater. Just doing local theater and basically only one play that ran only at Christmas but I loved it. I was emerging from my shell.
Hubby decided it was “OK” but it did cost us money because I was driving back and forth to rehearsals. Oh and don’t talk to him about it, he wasn’t interested so he wasn’t listening. Just like we didn’t talk about work or friends known only by one of us. At times I did listen to him talk about his work and coworkers but heaven forbid I bring up my life. Basically that left the kids and any sports I absorbed. But I didn’t like to talk to him…such negativity. It got me down. I did try to talk to him…at times. Other times we fought and I would tell him just how he was going to end up, all alone like his dad. But he decided I was either just upset or suffering from PMS when I brought up the negativity and the lack of affection.
I’m still not sure how he knew of my need for affection but a man I was working with on a theater project was standing next to me one night and he lightly touched my lower back…electricity sparked between us with just that touch. “But wait!” I thought. I admire him, like his wife (egads! he was married) and I’m married. But…this means I’m desirable, lovely, lovable. Everything I wasn’t getting from hubby. My imagination kicked in! I started planning, methodically. I wasn’t happy. I knew hubby couldn’t be happy. I know! We have a trip planned…if he loses his temper on this trip, in public, well…that’s it! I’ll be through, out!
As I planned hubby and I’s trip (he rarely helped) I began cruising the “adult only” websites, looking at what all is out there. Oh, and loosing weight. I was starting to feel good about myself, justifying my future plans. I knew what I was planning to do and I had to shut up the little voice inside my head that has tried to keep me on the straight and narrow.
I loved Paris and Nice. I cried when I saw Notre Dame and Monet’s paintings in the D’Orsay. In Nice I loved to just sit on the rocks and watch the Mediterranean lap and crash around me. The volcano in Iceland forced us to stay in Nice five extra days. During one of our trips to the aeroport de Nice I hit the wrong button on the laptop, hubby slammed his fist on the table in anger. That was it, the sign. I was free to go, to leave, to do what I want. My marriage is over.
Hubby didn’t know it but I already was in email contact with another man. He assured me he would have never ignored me in the City of Lights…I would have been his and he mine. I could hardly wait to get back to the states so I could quit feeling so lonely.
Once home I effectively shut up that still small voice in my head and dove head first into my first affair.