Mr. Wanton here:
We started reevaluating some decisions we had made about not having a child, it’s a risky proposition for the Mrs. and it will require the aid of some technology and fertility doctors, due to some unfortunate plumbing problems in Mrs. Wanton’s body. The reconsideration of the idea, opened up vulnerabilities to feelings of fears, and after sex last night I was at a low point.
Mrs. Wanton had an affair that culminated in one physical encounter. In her exchanges with the man she told him, she hadn’t really wanted to get married, but had done it because it was expected. That our marriage was pretty much just a show and she wasn’t in love with me. F%^k me!
Some of the things she told the other man were outright lies, so she could justify her actions and make the cheating – “not really cheating”. I try not to revist what she wrote to him frequently because its never productive. If I am already frustrated or vulnerable it can reduce me to hurt and rage.
Sometime I want to take a knife to the man who pursued Wanton, and just leave him taped up with his pecker in his shirt pocket. These are not my finest thoughts I know but, I’m not always a nice guy!
Last night, post coitus, I was thinking about this moron. I asked Wanton if she had mentioned anything to him about kids, and she reminded me she had the conversation with him where he had noticed her scar on her stomach (from endomitriosis surgery) and she had told him she couldn’t have children (naturally). We didn’t go much further with the conversation, as I kinda saw her putting her head down – so I stuffed my feelings. I wanted to be comforted but didn’t want to ask for it. I slept fitfully last night.
This morning The Fear starting setting in. “The Fear” is what I call the semi-irrational anxiety that likes to occassionaly wrap its its cold hands around my heart and take for me a ride! Mrs. Wanton made the mistake of yelling at me for something from across the house, and the fear was in full effect.
I came in the bedroom and one exchange lead to another, and she said ” you should have been honest last night” about being upset. F^&k me, my hands spasmed and the yougurt and spoon I was eating went flying across the room. I know not my finest moment. I then congratulated her on her first affair, that our 6 year relationship had bought me a whole day before she started her text whoring (Earlier in 2012 I moved our household a few weeks before her to another part of the state so she could help take care of a family member who was having significant health problems. About a day after I left Mrs. Wanton started sexting with a loathsome fellow). Ahh anger you make it so easy to be cruel!
I really despise loosing my temper, and I’m realizing more and more it seems to come on the heels of when I’m stuffing feelings and not articulating or sharing my feelings or worries. I do believe the anger response is a habit that can be untrained.
BTW there’s no domestic violence in our household, nor will there ever be. Wife or husband beaters are scum.! I realize again not my finest moments, but somedays I want to be the crazy one!