August 13, 2023
Dear You,
While working on this, probably last, novel, I started reading John Gottman's What Makes Love Last. I am, as always, fascinated with the subject matter, but reading it is both sad and maddening at the same time.
Why do I bother to study this stuff anymore? I'll never have another relationship. I only had thirteen relationship years allotted to me. Those years are over. Might as well forget this now and do something else.
There are so many suggestions in that book for making a relationship better. I read lists like:
1. Talk to each other about your favorite places to kiss and be kissed.
2. At the beginning and end of the day, kiss for at least six seconds.
3. Buy your partner a surprise present.
4. Put your arms around your partner and tell him or her how sexually irresistible (or handsome or beautiful) he or she is to you right now.
5. For a day or two, hug, kiss, touch, and caress your partner the way you would like to be loved. Then do to your partner what your partner has done to you. Be gentle.
6. Plan a sexual rendezvous in your bedroom. Think about what you will wear, music, lighting. Make sure there is enough time
... and so on and so forth.
When I met you, you seemed to want someone you could count on. But, when the Universe brought her to you, you ran back to people who expected to count on you. Whether you could count on them or not.
It makes me very sad to read Gottman because I actually, well, read this stuff, and I look for ways to do these things. I AM this kind of partner and I actually want to BE this kind of partner ... and it doesn't matter.
I would have treated you so well! But, no, no, no, you must run off and go back to someone who doesn't give a shit, because other people neither understand nor care that you are essentially alone in that house. Ohhh, you made your bed, so now you will lie in it, because you believe you have to.
Okay.
It's stupid and ridiculous to chase you, pine, and be sad for eight years, because here I am with all this I tried so hard to offer you, and you can't even speak!
What a waste. And, why am I wasting my time? Never speaking and now the disappearing act says to me, I don't want to be here. I don't want you and I'm out of here. Why struggle so hard to give the whole world to someone who doesn't want to be here, doesn't want me, and is out of here?
I HOPE you're out of here because that person you call a wife has become at least somewhat willing to crack a book like this. However, your view pattern of the last six years or so would suggest not. If you're going to spend your whole life longing to be treated well, it might help to assign your time to someone who actually wants to.
But, you know ... society, and all that. Judgmental people who don't understand, only see one side of things, and don't much care. People who are threatened by divorce and change. People who would rather you were miserable forever than have to face some hard truths about things themselves. Children. Grandchildren.
I get it. Okay.
So, that's how it will be. You're the one making the decisions, here. I simply abide by your choices. What else can I do?
I saw that you read that last tarot thing and disappeared again. You know I was only speculating, right?
I have no idea why you come here or don't come here.
I think it's because you wish things had turned out differently (but still don't have the guts to actually make things turn out differently), but I have no way of knowing. I hope it isn't just because you're sorry for me, but, again, I have no way of knowing.
You've been coming here for years, yet you never, ever speak, even when I repeatedly ask.
When you don't speak, people have to guess what you are thinking, what you are wanting, what you are needing.
Lacking plain English from you, I have no way of knowing. I don't want to give up on you, but I have to. Given your behavior, I have no other rational choice. Who wants to hang forever on a hope that one day, one day, a person who's lurked and never spoken for six years might speak??
You do realize we're on the verge of losing each other forever and ever, right? I've done and done all I can think of to do, all I can do.
I just can't do any more, here.
I can't come back in there and get you again. I can't drag you out of there like a saber-toothed tiger hauling you out by the shirt collar. I'm afraid I might maul you in the process, and I won't do that. You're still married, you show no sign of leaving, and I have no idea what's going on over there.
I have no idea what's actually going on in your head. Contacting you might not be welcome, and I have no way of knowing that, so I have to err on the side of no contact.
You're married. I came in there and got you once. I will not do so again.
The fact is, if you want something, you must show up for it. You must choose it. You must do something to get it. YOU MUST SHOW UP AND KEEP SHOWING UP.
I did that once. And then I kept showing up for eight more years. We're old people now. Youth and middle age are all gone.
It's your turn.
I've tried and tried to make myself clear here. I don't know how to make it any clearer that I still love you, that all is not lost, that if you would be here, I would be here. I'm the one who's been here eight years.
But, despite that, you're not here. And I can't be here if you won't be here. Nobody here equals nothing to be here for. So, when I ask and ask and you don't show up, I have no choice but to turn my back and leave.
I have no idea what only me here means. I think it means you're just over there overthinking everything, suffering from low self-worth, Boo-b-b-boo-hoo-hoo, I'm no good, no one will ever love me.
But I've been here eight years trying and it's done no good. Hello??
If you're really willing to lose this, I have no choice but to accept your decision. I have no idea why you're making this decision. Maybe I'm wrong and you're happy over there. Maybe you're just afraid of otherpeopleotherpeopleotherpeopleotherpeople. Maybe you think I'm an idiot.
Maybe you just hate yourself.
There's no point to that.
There's nothing wrong with you. The only thing wrong with you is you don't understand that there isn't anything wrong with you.
This will be my last attempt to reach you before this place moves forever. Hopefully the new place will be as easy to find on the web, but there have been glitches in things before. The Thinking Other Woman ... that's me.
If you ever actually speak to me, I will speak to you.
I thought I had made that clear before, but there it is ... one last time.
I don't know how else to say I love you. If being here eight years doesn't make that clear, I don't know what will.
There's nothing else I can do. Before we lose each other forever and ever, I just had to write this last. I hope you see it. If not, I guess it's just floating away into the ether.
August 31st is the last day for this site. If I see that's drawing close and you haven't been here again, I may tag you one last time. But, when I have to work this hard to even see you on here at all, that sponsors the thought you're just over it and don't give a shit anymore. How am I supposed to know? I don't. Without words, I can't know anything at all about you whatsoever.
And I can only assume you want it that way. Why? Again, all I can do is guess.
I wish things could have been different. I'm sorry they're not. I don't know what else to do. I'm all out of tools to use here and find myself unable to do any more on behalf of you and me.
There's only one person who can do anything at all, and that's you. And you keep saying no.
That isn't me saying no. That's you saying no.
After eight years, I find myself with no other rational choice but to finally take that no for an answer.
If it's really not the right answer, you are responsible for changing that. My hands are tied and I cannot.
I love you forever and ever.
--Me.