Is Honesty the Best Policy? Even on a Holiday?

Our anniversary is coming up next week. I've been dreading it. Dishonesty is suffocating, but honesty is difficult to phrase in a way that won't be interpreted as unloving. While dishonesty might appease Todd's fantasy that everything is "okay" for the time being, it will not hold us forever.

How often--when Todd has erupted at the inconvenience of having dependents--has it crossed my mind that the very best anniversary gift I could give him would be a divorce? Then he might at last have a chance to see if he would be satisfied by the type of happiness he seems to think he deserves (all the stuff he wants, when he wants it, without anybody else in the way . . . blocking the screen, or using the last of the milk on their cereal when he needs it for his coffee, or asking him to remember to deposit some of his pay in the household account before the automatic payments cause overdraft charges again . . . )

He blew up on Mother's Day. The kids had done a pretty good job cleaning up the kitchen, but then we had pancakes and Todd decided it was time to get the youngest (we'll call him Matt) to load the dishwasher. I guess Matt didn't hop to it quickly enough, or he asked if he could finish what he was doing first... something didn't fit Todd's template and he started yelling until our son was crying. Then he yelled at him for crying. The altercation broadcast across the entire house. Happy Mother's Day.

"Why are you crying now?" Todd drilled.

"I don't know," Matt answered, sobbing. Matt has a bit of a speech impediment, and as is common, he becomes more difficult to understand when he is emotionally upset. I could understand him fine from the other room, but Todd gets impatient and doesn't really listen to others if the answer isn't what he wants to hear.

"What?" Todd blared.

"I don't know," Matt answered.

Todd mimicked the speech impediment, making our son cry even more.

"I don't know why I cry," Matt answered, getting even worse. "I try not to, but I can't help it."

Matthew was obviously embarrassed by the fact that he couldn't control his crying. I know that feeling. I've been there.

Todd started slamming the dishes around, putting them in the dishwasher himself, and when Matt tried to help, Todd told him to go away. This prompted Matt to cry even more. He has a tender heart, and is my most cheerful helper of all the kids. He wanted to help and now he was not only being mocked, he was also being denied the opportunity to do the right thing. Todd wanted to be sure that he felt badly about himself.

Matt ran out of the kitchen crying so hard he was shaking. I took him in my arms, calmed him and thanked him for being willing to help. I told him not to be ashamed and to walk back in the kitchen and calmly tell his daddy he was sorry for not helping when he was asked, let him know that he was ready to do the dishes and that Mommy wanted him to have a second chance. I thought, if a child came to me and sincerely said that, I would give him another chance, and surely Todd would see treating his son decently as a sort of Mother's Day gift.

Matt put on his brave face and tried, but Todd just yelled at him to go away, saying it was too late. When Matt ran to his room, I marched into the kitchen, determined to call out this ridiculous emotional abuse.

"It's Mother's Day, and I want Matt to have another chance to do the dishes," I said forcefully.

"No. I know what I'm doing," Todd answered. I could tell that he was holding back from fighting with me, I suppose because of the day it was. (Could you say that holidays promote evil because forced goodwill is dishonesty? Maybe that's why I've come to dislike holidays--all holidays--more and more with each passing year.)

"What? Are you trying to make him hate you?" I asked.

He laughed it off, like I was stupid and he was some sort of expert in child rearing, his plan incapable of failing. I tried to reason with him, but he was cocky about it and refused to listen.

Was I so wrong to want peace in the house and an opportunity for my son to learn about mercy? Especially on Mother's Day--the day that was supposed to be for me? (I guess that would have been asking for a show, a lie . . . the very thing that I'm most dreading as our anniversary approaches.)

As that day draws near, I've been asking myself: Is honesty the best policy? I know that enabling bad behavior is not good for any of us, but are there days that we should refrain from calling out the things that are not acceptable? Are there special days and seasons when we should just hold our tongues and put up with the &#@%?

I was talking with a colleague the other day, and finally broke down and told her what was going on with Todd. She was a good listener, but she kept trying to connect Todd's behavior to the fact that he is grieving the loss of his mother. I don't doubt that the grief could exasperate the emotions that already are out of his control so much of the time, but the truth is, I really haven't seen any discernible difference in Todd's behavior since his mother passed away last fall. He's the same old @$$#*?% he was before. This colleague said you have to give a person a full year to "get back to normal" after a loss like that.

"Get back to normal?" I thought. Why would I want him to get back to his normal?

This is his normal. He hasn't changed. I'm the one who has changed; I've just finally gotten to the point that I can't take business as usual any more.

There are truths that need to be spoken, expectations and boundaries that need to be declared out loud . . . before they are allowed to simmer to the boiling point and explode. But things keep coming up--getting in the way of honesty: holidays, illness and death, the demands of work . . . It seems that there is always a reason to put off speaking the hard truth . . . but lying is not loving.

Oh, what a paradox: Could saying "I don't love you" possibly be the most loving thing a person could do? Or is it better to get a sappy generic card with sentiment you don't believe, go out for a dinner you can't afford, fake enjoyment of company you can barely tolerate, and smile a plastic smile to cover up the pain just because it's another one of those holidays . . . another one of those evil holidays?

I've tried to think of a kind, gentle way to say what is on my heart, but everything comes off as sounding potentially bitchy. After all, that's what a woman who is disagreeable is--a bitch, right? A man I'm working on a project with said something about his ex-wife the other day and the word just rolled of his tongue: "She's still a bitch," he said. I haven't known him long, and I've never met his wife, but this man is gruff and domineering and I couldn't help but wonder what he meant by "bitch" -- Perhaps, I thought, he meant that she was just like him, but female. It's still kind of that way in much of our society. We make excuses for him: "He's strong-willed," "more of a leader than a follower," etc. Guys laugh it up. "That's just the way he is. It's funny!" But an assertive woman? Get ready for the personal attack and the label.

What label would you give me if I gave my husband an anniversary card that said something like this:

"I'm tired of trying in vain. I'm tired of being met with mockery or derision every time I try to bare my soul. I'm through. It's our anniversary, but as far as I'm concerned we're not even married any more. We haven't been for some time. We both know that God instituted marriage to be a picture of His love for the church. We know Ephesians 5, but we don't know how to live it. I can't feign respect for you any more than you seem to be able to make sacrifices to show me love. If you want another anniversary, you're going to have to woo me back. I don't trust you enough to try anymore. You're going to have to prove to me that I can trust you. If not, who are we fooling? We might as well end the charade."

The front of the card could show a picture of a tennis ball bouncing in front of a net along with the words, "The ball's in your court now..."

What do you think?

Would it be bitchy to drop the charade less than a year after his mother passed away? Or while his dad's still in the rehabilitation center, waiting to to learn if he'll ever be able to return home again? Would it be bitchy to speak the truth on our anniversary? Maybe I should do it the day before our anniversary so he can save the cost of a dinner we can't afford, but that would still be during the grieving grace period . . .

How many more evil holidays must we endure?

Why didn't you say "I do"?

Life keeps getting weirder.

Things have been very bad with Todd lately. Very, very bad.

We're struggling financially. I know a lot of people are, but for us, it's nothing new... and try as he might to pin it on the "bad economy," it won't stick--he's never been good with finances, or work.

The stress has really been getting to me, especially as he ignores bills even when he does have enough to pay them, thus racking up late fees, disconnection fees and reconnection fees until we can't afford to pay at all and we're going further and further in debt every month. Through all of this, he refuses to sacrifice anything. He rarely puts in a full day's work, and don't even think about suggesting that he pick up a second job (something more reliable than his self-employment--or "self-unemployment" is probably a better term for it) or cut back on anything he feels he's entitled to (like cable TV, iTunes purchases, fancy beers, expensive vitamins....)

I've been very blessed to have landed a good writing job. It's something I enjoy, but it is time-consuming. When I'm taking care of the kids: taxi-ing, teaching, and all the other tiny jobs that get undone before I can even finish them, the work I do for pay feels like a second job, and I'm left with very little time or recreation. Putting in long hours working from home, it becomes very frustrating seeing your spouse sit around watching TV. Add to that the wastefulness that causes large amounts of money to essentially be flushed down the toilet--large enough amounts that it almost feels like I work for nothing. I was fortunate to be able to avoid a huge late pay penalty this week by taking a sizable advance (almost 20% of the total pay for this project that I'll be working on for at least the rest of this year). Although I'm happy to have avoided that waste, the downside is I now have a lot of work ahead of me without equivalent pay to look forward to. Once again, I feel trapped by my circumstances.

So, in the midst of this stress, I've tried to keep my mouth shut. Every time I bring up financial concerns, it ends badly. Todd doesn't like to have his delusions shattered by pesky reality. He doesn't want anyone pointing out that he doesn't work full time, and he doesn't make any more than he would with a full-time minimum wage job, because he believes that he works hard and makes more than he could as an employee. He badmouths those he works for if they say anything about his slacking work ethic, never putting together the coincidental fact that such observations are not isolated, but rather have been repeated by countless others over the years. It's called a pattern. Todd denies any pattern that doesn't match his dream world.

I said I tried to keep my mouth shut. Tried. But then we had a little "conversation" today. I asked him what he thought we would do if we lost the house (since our mortgage is much less than what we would have to pay in rent almost anywhere in the country). I reminded him that since we don't have any savings or any pension the house basically is our retirement plan. He said we wouldn't "lose" the house, we'd "sell it and get something for it." He finally admitted that it would necessitate moving in with his dad for free rent. I said something about how we'd have to be able to afford anti-depressants and constant air-conditioning if we were to move back to that humidity. He replied curtly:

"I didn't say 'we."

That hit like a ton of bricks. He replied too quickly for this to be a new thought -- he had been thinking about this in detail. He would run us into financial ruin, sell the house out from underneath us, and then leave me to run home to his daddy... Leave me to what? I wanted to know. I guess he didn't care as long as he was taken care of.

In no time he shifted the discussion away from his work and responsibility to my wedding vows.

"Why didn't you say your wedding vows?" he asked.

I was confused by the question out of the blue.

He repeated it, and I managed to ask for clarification:

"When?"

"At our wedding."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You didn't say 'I do.'"

"That's not what we were supposed to say. We were supposed to say, 'I will.'"

"What ever. You didn't say it."

"What do you mean, I didn't say it. We wouldn't be married if I didn't say it."

"But the preacher skipped over it, didn't he? When you passed out."

"He didn't skip over--"

"Did you do that on purpose?"

"What?"

"Faint."

I was stunned and speechless at that accusation.

"You faked it so you didn't have to say the vows, didn't you?"

With that, I got mad. It's bad enough that I've been married a couple decades to a boy who thinks his cable TV is more important than medical insurance, but then to have him insinuate that I faked a medical issue that I've been plagued by my entire life. My head was reeling.

"I've always thought you did that on purpose," he continued.

"Why the f#@& did you go home with me after the ceremony then? If you thought it was a lie?"

"Well, I didn't think it then."

"You said 'always' -- that you 'always' thought that."

"Well, for a long time."

I'm still in shock. To me this is all a game changer. It explains a lot. His ill thoughts toward me haven't gone unnoticed even if I haven't been able to put my thumb on them. I've always felt that disapproval. And my always does go all the way back to the wedding (and before). I'm ashamed to admit that my self-esteem was so low as to think that feeling was acceptable. He was hot for my body and I mistook it for love. When I brought up how I've struggled knowing that I "ruined his life"--citing how he used to say that back during the summer when he had a truck, a motorcycle, and a camper, and lived at a camp ground was "the last time things were good" (and incidentally, before he met me)--he said, "Why do you always bring that up?" I guess I'm just supposed to forget every thoughtless comment he makes (on multiple occasions, comments that match up perfectly with his behavior) or I'm being unreasonable, but he can take my medical history and re-write it as some sort of game and that's reasonable???

Is this evidence that the gulf is too great to ever be bridged? I think I'm going to faint.

Playing with Fire

Just a quick postscript to yesterday's reflection on the possibility of a tiny Sea Monkey turning into a Fire-Breathing Sea Monster... and the confession about the message (contact) that cannot be unsent.

The implications are broader than just a couple of little notes (one out-going, the other in-coming). Charlie now has the email address that is attached to my faux facebook AND THIS BLOG. That means, if Charlie is clever enough and curious enough, he could find this blog.

That realization could have sent me into a frenzy, scrubbing the internet of all evidence of Bridget and falling back into the shadows where I have been hiding for so long.

I'm not going to do it.

So what if he finds this blog?

I'm trying to reinvent myself as a bolder, braver, and more honest person. I saw the anonymous comment on my last blog entry that suggested that salvation comes through integration... and that the "good girl" I spoke of is only part of who I truly am--that the "good girl" needs to go out to dinner with Bridget and get to know her.

In that same spirit, I must admit that Charlie is a chapter of the story of not only who I was, but also who I am. There may be elements of the Charlie story about which I'm not being totally honest because I've been lying to myself. If Charlie were to read this and recognize himself in the narrative, it wouldn't be the end of the world.

I'm not afraid.

Should I be?

The only reason I see to be afraid is if I'm not telling the truth. (And since it's possible that I have lied to myself about some things that are too painful to embrace, or that in the lying to Todd that has been necessary to keep the peace, I have started to believe some of those very lies. It is possible that Charlie could call me on factual errors I make as I recall the happenings of the life chapter we shared. Lies have done enough damage. I do not fear the truth, but rather long for it.)

True, I may be playing with fire, but fire is not necessarily destructive. It can do good if it burns away the lies that enslave us. I recall the prairie fires of my childhood rolling toward the tiny town that I lived on the very edge of--tongue extending toward our little house, as a panting hungry beast, intent on licking us off the map. But those weren't the only flames. The volunteer fire-fighters set controlled burns to destroy the fuel that the fire-breathing monster needed in order to reach us. If we had been too fearful to allow the controlled fire to be ignited near our house, the fuel would have remained and we likely would have been consumed.

I'm not afraid of Charlie reading this, but I am afraid of Todd reading it.

What is the difference?

One might guess that it's simply because I have to live with Todd, but that's not it. I don't have to live with him--I'm choosing to, for now at least. The biggest difference I can think of is indicative of a deeper problem that will eventually need to be dealt with if I am to stay married:

Perhaps I'm not afraid of Charlie finding this because Charlie always seemed to be a passionate truth-seeker. He didn't care if something contradicted his preconceived assumptions. He would dialogue and really listen, and he wouldn't get upset with someone for disagreeing with him.

Todd, on the other hand, is a master at ignoring even glaring truths if they don't fit in with the ideal landscape he's created in his mind of how things should be. That's why he lies to his parents all the time (and I don't think he even realizes he does this, because he's lying to himself as well). That's also why he stops listening if I say something that doesn't fit into his idea of how things should be. I'm just realizing, as I type this, how stifling that behavior has been to my growth as a person. I don't mean to play the "poor victim" here, I accept the fact that by allowing this to go on for so long, I am guilty of enabling the behavior.

Realizing that, I want change. The truth is hard; however, even if it's a slow smothering death, a lie will eventually kill. I want to be free even if it requires some extra pain along the way. Can I handle the truth? I think so. I really think I can. Todd, however... well, let's just say I'm not so sure. The lies have become so ingrained--so habitual--for him that I really don't think he can handle the truth.

What is the truth?

(Now, this is just off the top of my head, mind you, but I'll give it a whirl at putting down in words the things I cannot presently tell Todd.)

First off, I don't want to be with Charlie. I know he's not good for me that way. We could be friends, but we never should have been anything beyond that.

If I were given the choice, however, between someone like Charlie or someone like Todd, I would have to say that the someone like Charlie would be better for my mental well-being because he would actually accept me for who I am.

With Charlie, I don't think I'd feel relationally secure. He cheated with me, so he would probably cheat on me. But with Charlie I would feel free to be, and to grow, and to express my true self--a person who is not static. I'm at a place in my life where I feel like that is just as important (if not even more so) than physical faithfulness. Emotionally and intellectually, I don't feel safe and cherished with Todd.

I'd like for Todd to understand the differences that drew me to Charlie years ago, as I was simultaneously being repelled by Todd. Charlie made me feel safe in self-expression because he didn't judge me. Even though he treated me as an object by physically using me when he probably didn't really love me, Todd also treats me as an object on an intellectual level by shutting me out when what I'm saying doesn't agree with his plan (end of discussion--he either repeats his argument until I shut up, or "shuts me off" like an object by walking off, ignoring, and/or moping). When I don't fall in line with how he wants things to be, his reaction is similar to how he responds when the computer doesn't act the way he expects--like an object.

These are things that we will have to talk about, and the only way I see to do that safely and effectively would be with a counselor to mediate. We can't afford that right now, so I feel the need to tread water for a while. I know it probably looks like I'm just giving up, settling for the status quo, and enabling... but there are deeper things going on. I know it will take courage and strength to stand up to Todd in the way that I need to, and I'm not there yet. If I were to act hastily and set an ultimatum right now, or leave him right now, or ___, I would probably fall apart. I'm stronger than I was a year ago, but I don't think I'm strong enough to carry through yet, and I know that when I take a stand, I'd better be ready to carry through if Todd blows me off.

I guess you could say I'm in the midst of a control burn process. It's not yet time to unleash the wrath of Todd. There is a tiny scar on my arm, uncomfortably close to a large vein, that reminds me of what came of a confrontation I wasn't ready for. I'm not going to do that again. It may take a little while to get ready, but it will be worth it to take the time to be strong and prepared for success. I've already seen evidence on a smaller scale that when Todd sees me getting my sh!t together, he shapes up a little (even if it doesn't last long, it is an indication that he notices.) So, even if I'm not yet acting in an overtly proactive manner, I'm comfortable knowing that confrontation and ultimatum are not the only ways to affect the relationship.

For now we're on chapter "Get Bridget's Act Together."

And I'm not afraid.

The Secret

"The last time my yearning meter was this high, I made a really big mistake that almost destroyed a lot of people, a mistake that still looms over me with threatening posture. Perhaps I'll work up the nerve to write about that soon."


Maybe it's not "nerve" I need as much as release. Here comes the painful honesty:

Living a lie is like being in prison. Life just cannot go on as it does for those outside the bars. Like the old saying goes, "Oh the tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive." I'm so tangled up in this mess, that I sometimes wonder if we've moved on to the stage in which the spider wraps up the prey and sucks the life out of it.

You already know how it started: The deception of playing a role that turned into a commitment that never should have been. Temporary insanity turned into vows before God to "forsake all others" and bind myself forever to Todd.

There were so many warnings and chances to get out along the way leading up to our wedding. Why I didn't end it is a good question. Low self-esteem, fear of being alone forever, and a warped theology--belief that since I had already consummated the physical relationship, marrying Todd would somehow justify my sin and make things right with God. I wish I had better understood God's mercy--that He would have allowed me to start over--that what I was doing was totally crazy... but, you see, I even deceived myself.

Early in marriage (before children), given how crippling our relationship was becoming, I probably should have left, rather than continuing to enable Todd in his many selfish and emotionally abusive behaviors. But I played the martyr... figuring that if I toughed it out, everything would work out in the long run. Then came kids.

When he learned that I was pregnant with our first child, Todd was so stunned and fearful that instead of providing support, he elevated my worries over finances and basic survival. I knew an older couple (with solid jobs, a nice home, and an already decorated nursery) who had suffered miscarriage after miscarriage, year after year... and here I was: pregnant, poor, and (as Todd kept reminding me) in a hopeless situation. I actually got so low that I prayed God would take the baby from me and put it in my friend's womb. Sobbing, I plead for it.

As we learned about the availability of public assistance, Todd came around and got excited about the baby. Starting a family was the traditional, idealistic "next step" in our playing house (and Todd likes his traditional ideals), so we went with it and worked on trimming our budget and tucking away as much of my income as possible so that I'd be able to take time away from work to care for the baby. The baby arrived and I was able to stay home with her in our little studio apartment for a couple months. Then Todd needed my help.

We found a self-storage facility that was looking for a couple to work as a resident management team. We would get a nice apartment and a decent salary in exchange for both of us running the office during business hours and being on-call most of the time. That worked well for us because I was able to keep the baby with me in the office.

Baby number one was extremely colicky and didn't allow me much sleep, so I was incredibly exhausted most of the time, running the office (because Todd didn't "get" how to do the computer and paperwork), keeping up with home and laundry, and caring for a fussy baby. I was busy all the time. Todd, on the other hand--because he didn't do the paperwork or much of the baby care--grew tired of sitting around doing nothing. We were supposed to both be there so that one could show lockers while the other manned the office, but Todd soon decided that he wouldn't be missed much if he ducked out in the middle of the day to play golf.

I found myself frequently stranded alone in the office trying to juggle phone calls, paperwork, diaper changes, feedings and crying (both the baby's and my own)... AND if a potential renter showed up while Todd was out playing, I'd have to pack up the baby and lock the office (which we weren't supposed to do & would get in trouble for doing if the boss called or came by while we were out). I'd have to walk down the deserted hallways with strange men who made me nervous because (as the boss had said) it really would be better to have a man showing the lockers--lest some pervert (which transients who rent lockers are more likely than the general population to be) decide to take advantage of me. So, along with being over-worked and over-tired, I was scared--scared of rapists and robbers, and of homelessness if the boss learned Todd was not keeping the office hours we had agreed to and thus decided to fire us. That job lasted a year, and then we moved to an apartment that we got for free in exchange for managing a small apartment building.

Since the apartment managing job did not pay beyond the free rent, Todd took an outside job in retail. We were hired for the apartment managing job as a couple, and when I had problems in my second pregnancy and was unable to do all the physical work around the apartment complex, Todd didn't do much to pick up the slack, and before we had even been there a full year, we ended up getting fired (incrementally). First, the owner hired a groundskeeper to pick up the slack and started charging us partial rent. This might have worked out if I had been able to collect disability pay; however, since the job we had been hired for was intended for a couple, the doctor said, "You can't do the work, but your husband can, so I can't sign for you getting disability pay." Before baby number two arrived, we got to the point that we simply couldn't afford the rent anymore, so we moved on to yet another job that hired us as a couple and provided housing. This time the work involved was not as physical, so I was able to do more of it (and again, Todd pushed all of the paperwork off on me).

I'm not going to continue with all the details about the next job, but suffice to say, a pattern was forming... and through it all, Todd managed to preserve his own leisure time activities like golfing and watching sports, and even when he wasn't working anywhere near to full-time hours, he'd complain about being over-worked, taken advantage of, and he'd remind me constantly what a burden the children and I were--how good his life was when he was single. During this time, we had a third child.

The burden of maintaining a disproportionate portion of our shared jobs, doing most of the housework and childcare (because he just didn't "identify with" babies and young children) might not have been so bad if Todd hadn't been indulging himself in leisure and complaining as if he weren't. I was the one who would field the calls from our employers when he would slack off on his work or disappear without telling anyone where he was going. I hated being put in that position. I covered for him so much, all the while admitting to myself that if I were the boss, even I would fire Todd.

With our shared jobs and his ability to sneak off and do things for himself, this would have been the ideal time for him to have pursued some of his dreams (like acting)--dreams that he complained weren't happening (even though he did nothing to make them happen... because he "didn't know how to start.")

Did I mention that when we were dating, Todd had told me that he was going to be a writer and that he would make a role for me in every play or film he wrote? Well, even though I didn't marry him for that, I was naive enough to believe that it might be possible (and to think that he was actually going to pursue his ambitions instead of sitting around and waiting for things to magically "happen.") [Looking back, I sometimes think that if "misrepresentation" is grounds for annulment, I should be able to annul the marriage based on the writer story... however, I suspect there must be some sort of a statute of limitations on annulment.]

During this time, I myself still dreamed of being involved in creative endeavors (and even though it was daunting with three small children, part-time work, and not a lot of spousal support, I did little things to keep my feet in it.) Then one day, an opportunity came knocking on our door. I had pretty much given up on acting, since we couldn't afford babysitting so that I could go on auditions, but I did like writing. I had been studying by correspondence, working on writing short stories for children and had even printed up a business card with "writer" on it.

When trying to plan a play date for the kids, I gave one of these "writer" cards to another mother from our church so she would have our phone number. A few months later, after they had moved away, her husband happened to be looking for writers. She remembered my card and told her husband that I was a writer. He contacted me to see if I'd like to be considered for a job. He knew Todd, too, and said that they were looking to hire a writing team and if we could work together it would increase my chance of being hired.

I sent samples of my writing and reluctantly included the one and only skit Todd had written (even though I knew it wasn't very good). Ultimately the partner who had the final say in hiring, liked my style and said we had the job based on that (indicating that he wanted me to basically be the lead writer because he didn't find Todd's work professional enough.) And so, in that manner, we entered into yet another job as a "team."

Since a pattern had already been established, I shouldn't have been surprised that Todd didn't do much on this project. When we met to brainstorm with the new boss (the one who the story idea belonged to), Todd didn't say much of anything... but even worse, he didn't seem to even listen. He'd excuse himself and go take a walk, or a nap, or just sit there looking at newspapers and magazines. It was embarrassing.

Creative energies would flow when the guy with the story idea (let's call him Charlie) and I worked together. He liked my ideas and we worked well together. Charlie was ambitious and didn't shy away from putting in long hours. Todd didn't "get it" and since he didn't participate, he didn't feel needed. He decided it best that he pick up the kids from the sitter and go home. Just a couple days into a job that was slated to last 10 weeks, Todd bailed, saying that he would help "if we needed him."

This job had come along at a time when we were trying to get out of debt. I was excited that the salary was good, because that meant I'd finally be able to pay off my student loans and we might be able to put a little bit away in savings for those little surprises that always come up--especially with kids. Knowing we might be able to finally get ahead a little made it worth working long hours and being away from my babies--to me it was assurance that I'd be more secure in being able to stay home with them in the future. What happened to our finances while I was working almost shocked me. Almost. Todd had opened a new credit card that he didn't tell me about, and since we had this great new income, he didn't hold back on his spending. And to think that the stereotype is of WIVES being the spendthrifts! By the time we received our last paycheck on this project, the money had all already been spent and we were further in debt than when we started.

I should have been furious, but I had no room to be judgmental, or hurt, or anything... I had no room, because I had an onerous secret.

During the hours of working on birthing a story together, Charlie and I had become close. Too close. It was wonderful having someone who seemed to be smitten with my mind. We connected like Todd and I never had.

With Todd, as I've already said, our relationship started out (and pretty much stayed) purely physical. That can be fun and exciting for a while, but without the connection of minds, it begins to feel very empty. You know all those times when I said Todd would tell me to be quiet so he could "enjoy" something? There were way too many times when the only-child/loner in Todd would push me away. Too seldom was it a "good time for this"--this being conversation, connection. It seemed that all Todd wanted me for was sex--that he would be perfectly happy if I were nothing but a couple of boobs and a crotch. An inflatable doll, in fact, would be better than me because it wouldn't have a voice.

Charlie, on the other hand, liked to play with words. We could talk and talk. His work ethic was so refreshing and impressive after what I'd been living with for almost 10 years... It was a real turn-on to be appreciated by a guy who wasn't afraid to go after his dreams full-throttle, a guy who didn't whine about things not happening, but rather took the bull by the horns and made things happen... a guy who loved my ideas and would spend hours conversing about everything under the sun.

One evening, we had just reached a milestone (I think it was a solid first draft or something like that) and Charlie suggested we go out to celebrate. The company had a generous per diam, so we ate well. We also drank well. I had too much. To be honest, I had too much on purpose. We had been shamelessly flirting as we worked together for some time. It's easier to flirt when you know that it's not going anywhere, and it obviously wasn't going anywhere because I was married... right? So, when he offered me wine, I accepted. When he offered more, I took more. I knew I was a light-weight when it comes to alcohol and yet I celebrated, and celebrated, until Charlie had to hold me up to keep me from melting into the ground.

I was so joyfully wasted, I think he even had to carry me up to my hotel room... and there he stayed... most of the night. We just talked... he may have held me a bit while I was still tipsy, but I don't think anything else happened. He apologized the next day for getting me drunk--but I didn't accept him taking the blame because I knew what I was doing--and he told me it was hard, but he just couldn't let himself take advantage of me. Before that day was over, however, we kissed--really kissed--ravenously kissed (like we knew we would never allow ourselves to do more than that, so we had to pour every bit of passion we had for each other into that kiss.) Then, probably no more than an hour later, Todd came with the kids to pick me up.

Before returning home, we were invited for dinner to the home of the guy from our church who had gotten us the job. He and his wife decided it would be nice to invite Charlie, too. It's a fuzzy memory that plays like an awkward slow-motion scene straining toward an ending on an empty tank of gas, but somehow Charlie and I managed our way through that meal at the table with my family and his co-worker's family, our kiss and our desire still lingering in the air, almost palpable to us, and hopefully invisible to them.

The rest of the job would be carried out mostly by e-mail and telephone... or at least that was the plan. We would arrange future meetings as they were needed for the progress of the project. By the next weekend, the project (?) "needed" another meeting. This time Charlie stayed at a hotel near where Todd and I lived. Charlie was still at our place when Todd went to bed, so we decided to take our conversation (about the project, of course) outside. We went for a walk in the moonlight, and as soon as we were out of eye-shot, we became ravenous animals. We might have made love right at the edge of the trail in the woods had we not looked up and seen a coyote watching us. Saved by the coyote, we decided to call it a night. Charlie went back to his hotel, and I quietly slipped into bed next to Todd, careful not to wake him because I really didn't want to have sex with him while thinking of someone else.