I married a man eight years my senior. It should not make a difference and yet, at some point, it did. He decided, after he was 34, I believe, that he was old. And behaved accordingly. He also decided, that I was something to be kept under control. So, I, raised a free-spirit, was put under his thumb. I could not go out. I did not have many friends. Or any friends, I should say. Most other 'soccer mom's' were his age and did not appeal to me. One occasion when we went out and there was karaoke, I sang. His friend was dumbfounded that I could sing well and congratulated me over and over saying that he never would have known... etc... etc... I got the crowd singing with me. The DJ had comments about the little girl with the big voice. My husband said nothing. While I was up there, I saw him shake his head like he didn't know what to do with me. I am wild. He is not. That's what it boils down to.
So anyway, I got into Cybertown at the point when I was not allowed to go anywhere or do anything. I worked nights, three nights a week actually, for a mediocre publishing company. I worked five until midnight. I lived an hour away from work. I loved being on the opposite side of the coin from the rest of the world. I am nocturnal by nature as it is. I'm not like they are. I wasn't raised to be.
While I was at work, if I stayed late to help out, I did not call home as it was late and I did not want to wake him. Yet, if I was to be off at midnight and one o'clock rolled around and I was not home yet, the work phone would ring at 1:05. Where was I? This was the way of things.
So I submerged myself in nocturnal online persuits. I made a particular set of friends that I trusted. I made other friends besides, but I only gave out my real name to one. I spoke to them daily. Eventually, only 'him' daily.
And he was.... intelligent, poetic, and sensitive. He was bi-sexual, that was how I explained things away to my husband. Like any good blue-collar football-watching worker, he's extremely homophobic. If I said i was talking to the fag, I was ok. Even still, deep as it was, it was still not an affair against my girl-friend. I always expected her to receive a full report of our conversations. He said they shared everything. At one point, she had awoken during our conversation and stepped in for a moment before going back to bed. He said she had looked so lovely, half dressed, that he had pictured the two of us together... So, thereafter, I had struggled with that image. I probably had always thought of beautiful women in such a way and had suppressed it for a myriad of reasons. Yet now I couldn't escape it.
As a Pisces, I am romantic, (and shy) by nature. I fell in love with this couple. I had romantic thoughts of meeting them in real life and we would be the best of friends. I knew I would not meet them in this life, but entertained thoughts I may meet them on a cloud somewhere. Had I not made the choices I did...
I knew little of the emotional and health problems he had. And still don't. He alluded to them sometimes and then took it back later. Apparently, their relationship was falling apart during our conversations and he never said a word. He wanted me to think everything was ok. It's rather what I would do, I suppose. I'm amazed he's not a pisces.
I think this is a good time to close for tonight. This is pretty much the end of this thread. I can't convey the emotion of it all. Perhaps I should start in a different place tomorrow.
So, that's how that all went. It doesn't even begin to cover it, but it'll do I suppose. It's where I went when I was sad. I'm such a wus.