You know about whom I haven’t posted in a while? G. You know why? We haven’t been in touch much. It hadn’t been my highest priority, to be honest. There I was, concentrating intently on making my marriage work again — something that, despite what you may surmise about the contents of this post, I am still trying to do, and that is still a very high priority.
Of course, another reason that we hadn’t been in touch much is that he had been busy, not to mention on holiday for a week. Nor forgetting that age old reason – he’s a man and therefore genetically crap.
I don’t recall if I have spoken about the new relationship that exists between myself and G, post-rekindling of marriage situation. We both knew that the time had come when we could no longer deny the inevitable: that our love was not to be, despite all our wishes and hopes to the contrary. I owed it to myself, my children and my husband to make a go of my marriage, since CH (which stands for Current Husband, lest you forget) had made such an astounding effort to change in order to save our marriage.
To be quite frank, I was actually amazed at his change of heart and attitude. I sincerely believed that when presented with the opportunity to end what I thought was a dead marriage, he’d grasp it with both hands, and probably several other appendages. I truly thought that (a) he didn’t want to be married any more, and (b) that he couldn’t be the husband I needed or wanted. How wrong I turned out to be.
So it was with this in mind that I made the very difficult decision to cut G loose from my life. I knew I still loved him and that I probably always would. I have never loved CH in the way I do G, but unfortunately the harsh reality of life is that love does not conquer all. If you take my marital setting out of the equation, the reasons why it would never be right with G are:
– One of us would have to sacrifice the happiness of our children in some way in order for us to be together – by either moving countries, or leaving the children, or the children leaving their father – any of the above are possible outcomes.
– G would by necessity be more restricted in his self-expression as a cross-dresser, because of the tender age of my children. This would be self-imposed, as he believes that such forms of self-expression are inappropriate in front of non-adults. However, he would be denying his own freedom of expression, which would mean he would be effectively pushing himself back in the closet. Only a little way, I grant you, but still. This was not acceptable to me. I could not have borne the guilt.
– G’s parents are older, and he is an only child. He would have been deserting them at the latest stage in their lives. He wasn’t happy about doing this, but was prepared to. I, however, could not have that on my conscience.
Anyway, the decisions were taken, and the actions performed. We were both fairly distraught about it, but over time, and by shifting our respective focuses (sp, focii? or is that bread?) our wounds began to heal – at least peremptorily – and we got on with our lives.
I had booked for this trip within days of hearing about Minerva’s condition, absolutely distraught at the news, and determined to do whatever I could do as her friend to help her feel better. The irony of the plan was that in order for me to get the time off work, I had to guarantee that I’d do a couple of days work in the UK office. So I arranged that I would do so. Those of you with sharper memories will remember that G and I work for the same company. We arranged that we’d meet up, and that he would stay over near work, and I’d stay with him. At the time it seemed like a good idea. We were both still very hot for each other, openly so (to each other) despite our respective partners, and the thought of a final night of seriously hot loving appealed to both of us, immensely.
Then G made good on his promise that his wife (to whom I shall refer as BQ) would know that we were friends. As far as she was concerned, all contact had been severed way back when, immediately after TITW. We never reunited, never rediscovered our love, never made love to each other via the web and the phone, never met up when I was in the UK during the summer, never made sweet love in a horrible hotel room, and in the wilds of Bletchley Park, and everywhere else we could… When we first decided to call it off (a decision that didn’t last, needless to say. In fact his exact words were “I can’t give you up, babe, I just can’t”) I told him that if he wanted to have any kind of friendship with me, he had to inform BQ of my re-existence in his life — albeit as a friend and nothing more. He agreed, and we discussed methods and strategy of how and when to do this.
This actually only happened once we had finally split, two months later, when I reminded G of my promise to sever all ties with him unless he did this. The eventual aim is that he and I can have an open friendship with her knowing. I wasn’t naive enough to imagine that the BQ would automatically give her blessing to such a union, but I was hopeful. Anyway, he did tell her. He stressed that we had to work together (‘s true. We do) and that it was prudent that he maintain a good relationship with me. He also told her that he felt terrible about how things had “ended”, and how he wanted to make things right since I was one of the very few friends he still had, and the first person ever to voluntarily guess his transvestitism and be so comfortable with it, and how he felt secure with me and missed my friendship dreadfully.
The result was mixed. She agreed that he could contact me, via work email, but she insisted on perusing all our correspondence. She made it clear that his speaking to me over the phone was not acceptable to her, nor text messaging or anything similar. Naturally, she doesn’t know of the *other* email account he uses to communicate with me, so the deception continues. However, G was upset at causing her not to trust him, and couldn’t quite reconcile that with himself, so he told me that for the time being he’d rather I didn’t text him, or call. And I accepted this as a natural progression, and complied with his wishes, showing him, once again, that I can respect his requests of me. This tied in nicely with my reconciliation with CH, and it has only been friendship and nothing more since then. Mutually. No cybernookie, no pervy fantasy emails, no longing silences and deep sighs over the phone… Nothing.
By and large, it’s ok. Except, of course, when he doesn’t keep his end of the bargain. Doesn’t make the effort to invest in our friendship — fuck “I can’t give you up” and all that shit — doesn’t bother. Leaves all the running to me. Which, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, was exactly what he did recently. I was fed up. I had to confront him. And the only way to deal with that kind of mess with G is to talk to him face-to-face.
So I kept the appointment for us to stay the night together. I knew that he — like me — would be in two minds as to whether to go through with it. We had both reached a stage where we knew that while the attraction was still as strong as it ever was, there would also be guilt and remorse at the betrayal of our partners. So we spent two days together, working and talking. And that night we talked and joked and laughed and cried and reminisced. And I recriminated, and he apologized. And I insisted on his commitment to our friendship, and he was contrite.
And we hugged each other, and held each other close, and thought about what we’d had and how we could no longer have that, for all the right reasons. And we struggled with our deepest innermost feelings of the passionate love for each other that we both now have to bury.
And we didn’t make love.
It nearly killed me, I’m not going to pretend otherwise. But we set ourselves boundaries and stuck to them. We both wanted to, both still feel as attracted to the other as we ever did. But it would have been wrong of us. After reaffirming our commitment to our respective spouses (spice, surely?), we were obliged to keep that commitment. I knew this, and so did he. We both wanted more, but we contented ourselves with warm and loving hugs and cuddles (and plenty of them), and left it at that.
It was only when we parted company this afternoon that it finally sunk in.
As I write, I am weeping aloud as I attempt to assimilate the fact that I will never again be able to be together with him in the same room. I will never be able to hug him again so freely (unless BQ changes the way she is — not likely, huh?) . I will never kiss his soft sweet lips in the same way, I will never stroke the soft skin of his cheek, nor run my fingers through his glorious hair.
Don’t get me wrong, I know I made the right decision for all concerned, myself especially, to return to CH and make a real effort to rekindle and renew my marriage.
But my heart is still raw and bruised and bleeding over losing the one person whom I loved more than any other…
Don’t chastise me for my feelings. Just understand me.