No more, no more

For everyone, especially the good kind and generous folk I hang around with on Twitter, who has given me so much detailed help and advice in the last week, we had the conversation a little earlier.

Me: ‘So tell me, why should I give you access to my life?’

Her: ‘That’s a good point. You shouldn’t’

So I turned on my heel and walked out of her flat without looking back, because when even she can’t give me one single reason, it’s time to leave.

I’m looking out for me, from now on. It’s a strange and uncomfortable position but it’s the right attitude to take.

I have nothing else to add to the subject.

The door is shut.

Divorce papers will be filed on Monday.

Unacceptable behaviour

Owing to a complete lapse of judgement that was triggered by a highly toxic, extremely damaging scene between us around 1am today, I have been a dick.

I like to think I have come to my senses.

I have tried to explain, to Sophie.

I have apologised to her.

I need to apologise to you.

Sorry.

 

Sunday catch up

It has been, as you might imagine, an eventful few days.

I’ll try and summarise, without going in to too much detail.

On Friday evening I met up with a few good friends in that London.

We had excellent and plentiful food and *cough* alcohol and, possibly as a direct result of the alcohol, there was a degree of talkage.

I spent the night in a hotel in Paddington and when I say ‘spent the night’ I mean ‘got two hours sleep.

On Saturday evening we went to see Frisky and Mannish at the Oxford Playhouse.

They were excellently funny.

Yay!

I got a parking ticket.

Boo!

Today I did a little washing, a little ironing, a significant amount of people-seeing and socialising.

I got asked to consider taking a person from my equestrian circle as a lodger; an attractive and dangerous idea which I declined forcefully.

Then I spent three lifetimes fruitlessly shopping for a piece of bedroom furniture.

And I’ve downloaded the guitar chords for three Missy Higgins tracks (‘Angela’, for which I have subtly altered the lyrics, ‘Special Two’, which I’m going to keep intact, and ‘Where I Stood’ which I’ll also keep intact).

Additionally, I have slightly edited one of the pages on this website (not telling you which one, you’ll have to guess!).

And spent some time reading the ‘Rules’ page.

That was a shocker, reading the rules, because it made me realise that I have been overly harsh and not considered the feelings of others – as my rules plainly say I would.

At the time I was angry and bitter and I let my anger and bitterness get slightly out of control.

I didn’t let them get out of control to the point where I was going to wreak physical punishment on anyone, even though that thought did (briefly) occur at 3am.

But I did let things get out of control, to the point where I publicly vented in a calculated, hurtful manner.

And that disappoints me; I fell off my own standards bandwagon.

I will try hard not to let that happen again.

Oh yes, and my friend Dave bought three months’ Match.com access in my name. He won’t be my friend Dave for much longer.

And that’s the last few days through my eyes – or as much as you’re going to get, bearing in mind the guidelines in the Rules page.

How’s yours been?

Being in bed

Being in bed is fantastic. ‘Especially with your wife’, adds the nasty voice that has begun to be part of my inner monologue, lately.

I’ve been here for a couple of hours and every time sleep has come close, some random thought generator has crunched into action, and scared it away.

So I’ve read, but that didn’t stop the nasty internal monologue.

Then I edited a few posts in the secret blog; just corrected a mis-spelled surname. Don’t go and look for it. Only I can see it now.

And then I just lay here, waiting for sleep. It hasn’t arrived, obv.

Have I mentioned that I’m going out on Friday? Pizza in Covent Garden with a few blog/Twitter friends.

I’m going to stay in town overnight, getting back here is such a pain in the arse.

Going to the Oxford Playhouse on Saturday evening. Frisky and Manish. Or that’s the plan, anyway.

Work is mental and busy.

The podcast doesn’t seem to be taking a hit in audience numbers, which is lovely.

And I’m not crying quite as much as I have been.

Though the urge to wreak terrible vengeance and swift and shocking violence on one or two guys, is incredibly strong.

So that’s it for now I guess. Let’s try for some sleep. Again.

Cleanin’ out my closet (and crime and punishment)

Sick of this mind, of the mother fucking kid, that’s behind
All this commotion; emotions run deep as oceans exploding
Tempers flaring from parents, just blow em off, and keep on going
Not taking nothing from no one, give em hell, long as I’m breathing.
Keep kicking ass in the morning, and taking names in the evening
Leave them with the taste of sour with vinegar in they mouth
See? They can trigger me, but they’ll never figure me out

The bile, the hatred, the anger and the rage that Eminem shows the world in his track ‘Cleanin’ Out My Closet’ is painfully beautiful.

No, I’m not going to get all arty-farty. This isn’t one of my music reviews.

What this is, is an attempt to explain – without going in to too much detail – why I’m not going to republish the secret blog, or the ‘Big Reveal’ post.

I began writing the secret blog years ago, February 10th 2009, to be specific.

When I started chronicling the utter mess that was my married life at that time, I had no intention of sharing it with the wider public.

That place was, simply, a dumping ground; a place to help me process and deal with my worst fears, as I uncovered a terrible situation.

And, on a positive note, it was also a place where I could record the rise from that painful place as we repaired ourselves, healed our relationship, and got things back on track.

That’s what the secret blog was for.

In the last few months, when doubts began circulating about my marriage once more, it seemed logical to append my thoughts to the secret blog; though now, in retrospect, I’m not convinced that was an entirely sound idea.

The motivations behind writing and publishing The Big Reveal post on this website, a couple of days ago, were twofold.

Firstly, I wanted to warn and educate one person.

Secondly, I wanted to punish two other people and warn another.

It was for that last reason that I linked to, and therefore made public, the secret blog.

Punishment.

Not to punish Sophie; I could see what she was going through. Although it wasn’t as painful as the place I was in, she was in a hurtful place.

She wasn’t the victim, obviously, that was me. But she was still hurting.

What I wanted to do was to punish the others; so I put their names in the posts on the secret blog and made the website public.

If you’re expecting me to say that in doing that I was wrong, you’re mistaken.

I still believe it was right to punish the people who inflicted such terrible pain on me.

But the way I did it wasn’t right.

And now, thanks to wiser heads and counsel, cooler thinking has prevailed.

The Big Reveal post will stay as it is, the secret blog will not get republished.

Punishment comes in many forms, and there is more than one way to deliver it.

I have no desire to punish Sophie any further, but if even the mere *threat* of exposure means that the others involved spend the rest of their lives looking over their shoulders, wondering if, or when, I’m going to drop the other shoe, I would be content with that.

Knowledge is power, and I believe that right now, I am sitting in the seat of knowledge.

See what hurts me the most, is you wont admit you was wrong
Bitch, do your song, keep telling yourself that you was a mom
But how dare you try to take what you didn’t help me to get
You selfish bitch, I hope you fucking burn in hell for this shit!
Remember when Ronnie died and you said you wished it was me?
Well guess what, I am dead, dead to you as can be

That’s some quality rage there, from Eminem. Directed at his mother, sure, but rage and anger are rage and anger, no matter who the targets are.

While I believe I could outpoint his anger, I think in taking this sideways step I’m being way more canny.

My nuclear deterrent will stay, I hope, unused.

Getting mad. And getting even?

It is *checks watch* 3.30pm, but I’m going to publish this post on a time-release.

I have spent the last hour in tears. It feels as though I have nothing left, no future, nothing to carry on for.

I am now angry at my childish naivety; that I let this woman almost destroy my life with her first affair, and forgave her and rebuilt our lives together, so she could have another go at ripping everything away from me.

Her first affair was bad enough, but the things she has done to me this time, coupled with the brutal manner she has done them, have killed me.

I have gone back over the secret blog and edited the entries to include the names of the people she’s been fucking and/or fucking about with.

I don’t know what’s left for me. I don’t see any future, just bleakness.

Ch-ch-changes

Well that’s it.

As of right now, I rattle around in this house by myself. Even Dog has left me.

Still, on the good side…

Umm…

Yeah, my cup runneth over. Not.

In other news…

The gardener who may have turned up this afternoon didn’t. There’s always tomorrow. He did say either Friday or Saturday.

I need to shop tomorrow for things. And I need to vacuum the house. And do ironing.

I love that there’s someone from University of Worcester who is so all over this blog trying to find the secret one. Because I’d link to it here and that wouldn’t affect the integrity of the secrecy, would it?

I’ve decided that I’m giving up on girls. I’m just going to live my life consumed by music and masturbation.

It being Friday, I should really get a show out this evening but, frankly, I’m a bit wiped out after today’s removal activities. Not too sure I could handle 45 minutes in front of the microphone.

Or maybe I will, later.

We’ll see.

Feelings, right now: apprehensive, nervous, anxious, worried, but not too much down.