Pug’s at work, and I’m alone.  I work at home, and I usually get lonely when he’s gone, but weekends are harder, because my best friend used to come in on the weekends.  For a very long time, that was the way of things.  Quinn would show up on Friday, and spend all, or most, of the weekend at our place.  He lives in Wisconsin, but used to live in Chicago, and he doesn’t really have friends out there, so he’d always come back whenever he could.  And, having him here every weekend was great, but eventually…  things went awry.  After Xmas, we started having an affair that went on for two months.  Altogether, we only hooked up a handful of times, but I know it was a big deal to both of us.  Because, sadly, this had happened before.  Some time after my husband lost interest in me sexually, something happened between me and Quinn.  Understanding there were a lot of messed up circumstances involved, my husband forgave me.  And, Quinn…  which makes the fact that it happened again all the more awful.  I never meant for it to happen.  But, Pug never wanted to talk about what happened two years ago.  He just wanted to sweep it under the rug, and pretend it wasn’t there.  So, we never really sorted out the reasons why.  Meanwhile, I was in complete denial about how nuts I was getting, and my husband was well aware, but saying nothing, because he’s not good with confrontation.  And, even though he eventually stopped boycotting sex altogether, he never started reaching for me, either.  When we had sex, it was because I initiated it.  It started to feel like he was humoring me.  Not being wanted by the one you love…  someone you would die for, and adore…  it cuts pretty deep.  I’m 28, and hypersexual.  Even being in denial about how sick I was, I knew I needed help, so I asked him, again, and again, to please call his insurance, sort out what needs sorting, so I can see a shrink and get meds.  He always said he would.  He never did.  I got worse.  And, I got lonelier.  My friend Quinn is also a pretty depressed, isolated person.  He hadn’t been with anyone in the two years since we hooked up in spite of being a good looking, and otherwise fetching guy.  I guess, he spent too much of his time with me.  I don’t know how he felt about me, while we were having the affair, and I don’t know how he feels, now.  We didn’t talk about the situation much while it was going on, and we’re not talking at all all, now.  And, that really does hurt, so much.  But, he’s staying away, too, so, it’s not like I could even change it if I wanted to.  I don’t know what’s gonna happen with our friendship.  It feels like I still have a chance with my husband, in spite of everything that’s happened.  I know I’ve hurt him, and put him through a lot, but he’s done his share of damage.  Not cheating…  but there have been times when I didn’t know how to forgive him, and I stayed, anyway.  Because, in time, most things can be forgiven.  I’d forgive him for just about anything.  My life’s a pretty dark place, and…  he’s the light. 

But, right now, I feel incredibly alone.  I want to talk to my best friend.  I want him to tell me that we’re okay.  That we’ll always be friends.  But, can we be?  Maybe, he’s staying away because he doesn’t know the answer, either.  If Pug did leave me, I’d definitely stay friends with Quinn.  But, if we stay together…  it gets trickier.  He’s already forbidden Quinn’s presence in the apartment, which I understand.  I don’t know if he could ever trust me, or feel okay about things, if he knew I was hanging out with Quinn.  So, it seems any ongoing friendship would be a major stumbling block to my marriage.  But, he is my best friend.  I don’t want to give him up. 

If I have to… 

to save my marriage… 

if that’s still possible… 

then, I guess, I have to, but… 

I don’t know if it’ll make any difference.  Pug’s gotten warmer with me, and I feel like he still wants to be with me, but he’s said nothing to contrdict his position that we’re done.  Nothing to denote even the slightest chance for us…  because I’d latch on to the slightest of chances, in a hearbeat.  But, he hasn’t even offered that.  So, giving up Quinn, as a friend, and betting everything, given his position, does feel pretty shaky.  But, as I said, Quinn’s not talking to me, either, so, even if I tried like hell to reach out, it might not change anything.  He hasn’t been talking to me, or our mutual friends in Chicago (and he’s very close to those people, too), ever since this went down.  I keep hoping for some small word from him.  A quick call…  an email…  something…  at this point, I’m not sure if we’ll ever speak again, and that really hurts.  I’ve lost friends, before, but…  this is different.

My husband is the most beautiful, intelligent, funny, and likable people you’ll ever meet.  Everyone loves him.  I fell in love with him immediately.  He was my boss at the time.  I was a student, at Loyola University Chicago, and a waitress at a nearby pizza joint.  He’d already graduated from Loyola, and he was my manager at the pizza place (not very ambitious, but one of the coolest people I’d ever met).  He’s a musician, and a writer, and a vegetarian (all of which I dig, a lot).  He’s very depressive, and has addiction issues, and I eventually took on some of those issues (as girlfriends often do).  That led to a lot of our struggles (financial, and otherwise).  It’s heightened his disinterest in sex, and since drugs can heighten my messed up mental state, it’s probably made me a lot worse, psychologically.  Worst of all, it led to me not finishing college, which is one of the great heartbreaks of my life.  I want to go back, but the school says I owe 4 grand, just to get a hold of my transcripts.  Now, I could get finaid to go back to classes, but to get my transcripts, having to cough up that kind of money…  it may as well be four hundred thousand dollars, because it’s out of my reach.  I feel like I’ve lost so much time.  Being sad, being high, being isolated, and emotionally paralyzed.  I freeze up, for months at a time, and can’t do anything.  Then, I get manic, but I don’t get productive like some manic people do.  I stay pretty isolated.  My thoughts race.  I think up stories I don’t write down.  I feel like I’m gonna jump out of my skin, but I can rarely channel that energy into anything constructive.  Sometimes, it gets channeled into the destructive (getting high, having an affair, wanting to hurt/kill myself, ect.).  I guess, right now, it becomes a sad, rambling blog.

Gotta run.




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