I’m so damn needy.

I was talking to The Ex tonight online and he had to go to help put his daughter to bed and I almost started crying.

I don’t tell him this, of course. I pretend to be happy and chipper and the perfect woman. But I’m not. I have feelings. I cry.

He was talking about wanting to go to London with some girl – his babysitter. And how his wife wouldn’t ever allow it, but he wanted to go. He said he felt like a dad to her. I call bullshit – I know he’d sleep with her if he had the chance.

I guess that’s what it feels like to be me, a little bit. Wishing you could be something to someone that you can’t ever be. You can’t talk about being faithful, because what you’re doing is unfaithful and he’s going right along with it, and lying to his wife about it – and you’re there knowing that if he can do that to her he can easily do that to you. You’re fooling yourself if you think you’re so different.

The Boy is sick. He’s been coughing all day. I always worry when he’s sick because I don’t want to end up at the hospital for endless asthma.

I wish that I could go back, in my brain, to the time before I’d admitted my feelings for The Ex to him and to Ed. It was simpler to exist then, wasn’t it? Sometimes I feel like I just create drama for myself for no reason. Just for something to do. Something to change the day to day drag into something more interesting.

At the same time I find myself falling in love with other people on a pretty regular basis.

So. I guess I really am polyamorous. I’m not sure why I questioned that, but I realize it makes it really hard for Ed. For anyone. I also realize that it’s terrifying to come out as that to anyway. Far more terrifying than coming out as bi. Poly people are looked at as cheaters, I think, just in general. People who are incapable of “real love”. I find that funny because for me, “real love” is admitting things to each other. Being honest. Allowing yourself to be honest with yourself and your partner. But I’m afraid of how people will look at me if I explain that I want to sleep with other people. How often I think about it. How much I wish my relationship with The Ex could be more public. How I wish he could stay over in our guest room. How I wish I could see him without worrying about his wife calling and saying he has to leave now and him refusing to tell the truth or to lie.

Right now I’m waiting for him to come back and talk to me and I know it’s in vain, really. He’ll get to doing something else with his family or he’ll fall asleep with his daughter and the less he will tell her and the more he talks about the things he wants to do with other people the harder it is for me to be a good partner for him. I feel the jealous feelings creeping in – the longing for more than I can ever have with him. The wanting to be able to tell people about us. The wanting for him to be able to come and see me, send me a birthday present, eat dinner at my house.

And the more I talk to him the more I want those things and the more bitterness latches on inside my chest and the more I realize that I’m setting myself up for a world of pain because he can’t ever… won’t ever give me what I want and so I should really just end it but how do you end a thing with no beginning? With no discussion about what it is and what it means to everyone? How do you break up with someone that you’re absolutely going to meet online again regularly. How do you reconcile that breaking up means cutting them out of your life?

I’ve never been very good at that. I always want to stay friends. To hear about what’s going on with them. With the Ex, well, that’s really all we’ve ever had, so saying we aren’t “together” is just saying “carry on the way it’s always been” – because really, at this point, teasing is all the farther our sexual encounters are likely to go. He can’t make any sort of sacrifice to see me. He won’t – I need to stop saying that he can’t. It’s a choice, really. He won’t try to see me, so if I don’t arrange it then I don’t see him. Period. I’m not worth it to him to make the right kind of effort.

So that tears me up inside.

More and more each day, really.

I feel so much like used Kleenex sometimes. The kind you carry around with you in your shirt sleeve or backpack or pocket in case your nose gets runny again. It’s not ideal, but it’ll do in a pinch, right?


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