A Man Animates A Joke His Drunk Wife Told Him An Amazing Story of a Husband’s Emotional Affair

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An Amazing Story of a Husband’s Emotional Affair

Rick and I had been together for over thirteen years, and the dysfunctional relationship we had shared for so long was beginning to seem like a thing of the past. That is, until the next night. After a few days of marital tension, we had a bloody free-for-all. It was truly a blast from the past.

I’d like to blame the full moon, but that would be disingenuous.

I’d like to blame it on the alcohol (which certainly didn’t help), but that too would be taking liberties with the truth.

Eventually, the theme of the escalating verbal war settled on Rick’s emotional obsession with a girl he met while riding the bus to work. He ended their relationship about a year ago, but his relationship was disturbingly deep, and he still misses her—enough to bookmark her MySpace page. Their love affair apparently began when this woman, who was not ugly and, more importantly, not fat, enjoyed sharing the intimate details of her tragic life with my husband Buck. Poor bus girl. She needed a savior. It began to occupy more and more of his mental real estate, rent-free, and, in my opinion, became a complete addiction to the process.

Yep, Cupid had apparently appeared at the bus stop and shot one straight into Rick’s heart. The chemicals in Rick’s brain announced that he had fallen madly in love, just like in the movies. Soon, Bus Girl became the answer to all of life’s problems. She wakes up every morning looking like a Victoria’s Secret model. She has French vanilla ice cream. She never farts, but if she did, she would smell like lilies of the valley and freshly baked cookies. (This is the process of crystallization.) And he talked about her constantly, to anyone who would listen, to all his friends, so that they could be impressed what a woman he was now, and especially to me. How wonderful it is to have this dual process of creating a private shower of endorphins with your selfish and irrational desire to conquer someone you have conveniently arranged to see every day (whose most important asset is not being fat), and also having this amazing prop to launch the ultimate disrespect to a woman you resent (but not enough to leave).

Starting an addiction is, without exception, always the good part. Such complete and perfect relief from the twin demons of boredom and anxiety (the twins of reality). Such a beautiful escape from his inner emptiness, from his ordinary life. And don’t forget everyone telling his wife on a daily basis how she just doesn’t measure up to his new standards. Sometimes he just has a hard time finding enough ego fodder for his new BFF, so he’s forced to steal from Wifey (like a crack whore stealing electronics to pay for her next fix) . whipped cream and a cherry on top of his ego boosting ego! As much as he expressed his admiration for her, he ALWAYS kept an eye on me.

Rick believed (perhaps still believes) that this wonderful feeling was completely mutual. But like all star-crossed lovers, there was a huge obstacle separating these soul mates from their happy ending. The bus girl was of such good, high moral character that she could not knowingly sleep with a married man – especially one with children. Fine, but one might also wonder why someone of such amazing integrity was playing in someone else’s yard in the first place – and didn’t bother to mention it to her living lover. (Who was apparently a jerk who treated her badly, but not badly enough to walk away. Hmm – are we noticing a pattern here among cheating parties?)

Rick’s ego refused to consider that she might be somewhat ambivalent about her interest in him as a lover, but unable or unwilling to communicate this directly, lest his preoccupation with her be diluted. My guess is she was SURE she wasn’t really interested, but she enjoyed Rick’s attention and wanted it to keep flowing endlessly (Hey, why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free!) Insecure women ever have an obsessive need to confirm their attractiveness by maintaining a small fan club of male admirers. So she REALLY hit the jackpot when Rick came along. She could beat him between hope and doubt, thus ensuring his dog-like devotion, without ever having to open her legs, and it all happened because oh poor helpless me, I would just feel so guilty for being a destroyer of home! (I never said she wasn’t smart.)

So Rick’s addiction bloomed like an award-winning orchid, requiring a similar level of care, nourishment and maintenance. All thoughts turned to the bus girl. Every little thing she did was magic. Tolerance to the drug began to build over time, so he required more and more of it to achieve the same high. I guess it’s when he saw her on the bus and e-mailed her all day begging her for lunch just didn’t cut it anymore, and he had to do it (discreetly) from home, weekends and holidays, and whenever in real life. it left him feeling less than great about himself.

Higher and more frequent doses were needed, not to reach the level of initial euphoria, but to avoid unpleasant withdrawal pains. The intensity of his distress, when he failed to see her regularly and be removed from her selfish spell, became quite evident and alarming. Having a completely different life, this whore proves ANYTHING and EVERYTHING.

Rick sits on his ass during the week long vacation and tells the bus girl how lazy he is getting. “Ah, that’s what vacations are for,” she replies approvingly. Well, SURE, bus girl – when you don’t have kids to raise, or a house that’s falling apart around you, or piles of compulsive hoarding that you keep finding ways to push through. No wonder he loves her so much. She knows nothing about what he is really like! And he can totally keep it that way!

He can offer to fix her computer and take the crap out of her (boyfriend’s) yard and be praised for it without her having to do anything!! All the while he could give me the finger, that evil wit that wants him to grow up and help me around the house. Apparently, I have to do all the work myself, but I still praise him for his help, so he doesn’t have to seek solace in Bus Girl’s fake admiration. (I still have a really hard time understanding how undeserved praise can be meaningful to anyone.)

Rick has not fallen in love with a real person, but an illusion of his own creation.

She is like a blank screen upon which he can project all his fondest hopes and wildest dreams. She would constantly reflect the reflection of himself that he likes to see, the one that has nothing to do with who he really is.

Now you’re probably saying, “Debbie, don’t be so hateful! That’s like some poor man who has a bad crush on Pamela Anderson. He just likes looking at her pictures and her big fake breasts and imagine yourself doing it. . Totally harmless. You really have to get over it.”

No, sorry, not even close. Your poor slob will never get anywhere near Pamela Anderson’s junk. Rick’s fantasy would be much less satisfying if it didn’t seem realistic and somehow possible. Maybe one day Bus Girl would throw her a bone, a big juicy reward for giving her such an inflated sense of self-worth for so long. Maybe he’d have some time to make out at the bus stop or parking ramp (maybe he did, and he just wants to “spare my feelings” by not telling me about it) And that’s what kept their beautiful, tragic love boat afloat. .

To me, their relationship was a lot like that of a drug dealer and a drug addict. Rick actually sat in a marriage counselor’s office with me and lied to everyone. It made me look crazy—as if its gas lighting didn’t make me look and feel crazy enough. He said he had broken off his relationship with her – but nothing could be further from the truth. And for another 5 months I let him beat the hell out of me while every day he donned his knight-in-shining-armor costume and came to her emotional rescue, often at my expense. He said things like, “I can’t believe you’re still so attached to him” or “I’ve been blowing him off for so long, it would be hard to see him.” Lies, lies, lies, lies.

Then my grandmother died. Rick was an absolute douchebag. Grandma’s funeral must have cut into the bus girl’s precious time and I wasn’t giving her my 100% undivided attention. A few days later, I went to the bus stop and saw them get off the bus and walk to her car. Rick was all animated and completely in love with her. She looked upset, but after getting into her car, she gave him a sexy smile and it became clear what a cheater and liar he had become. I hurt a lot. Then I moved.

Since I wasn’t Rick’s everything, how about I be nothing? (Thanks, Beyonce. I love that line.) I canceled our joint credit card. I called a lawyer. I was sick of this crap and prepared to leave with what little bits of dignity I still possessed. I was ready to let the kids blame me for the divorce (but they knew whose fault it really was). Only then did Rick think that maybe this addiction should be treated. We decide to solve it.

A few months later I see his “Sent Items” folder of his gmail account, full of messages with her name on them. I got drunk and read as much as I could stomach. It was amazing how my bad days, our many fights, and general feelings of anxiety could be directly traced back to his interactions with this pathetic, attention-seeking scandal he was obsessed with.

He had sworn he had no e-mail. It surprised me that he could show such interest in someone so ordinary and selfish. That was before I realized they never knew each other – they just shared their good sides. Then they came home and dumped all their crap on their partners. They shared a lack of maturity, a lack of decency, and a great inner emptiness that they tried to fill with their fantasies about each other. For a long time, I wanted Rick to realize on his own that he didn’t really love her. That seems less important now.

So I got to have 2 “D-Days” – Rick sure got a lot of mileage out of his Emotional Affair. And most days, I rarely think about it, but for some reason this week, it keeps buzzing around my mind like a nasty horsefly. And whenever Rick is a douchebag, I always like to tell him to go complain to Bus Girl about it.

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