For those of you who may have read my blog before I had to delete it, you may remember Mr. Perfect.
For those of you who did not read my blog before, let me give you a quick recap.
I have known Mr. Perfect for almost two years now.
To protect his privacy, I will not state where or how I met him.
When I first saw him, he was a little overweight and nothing physically that I am typically attracted to, but there was something about him. I talked to him and noticed that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. My heart literally skipped a beat.
The next time I saw him, I went up to
flirt with talk to him. He was wearing a wedding ring. What the fuck!?!?
We eventually ended up becoming friends. We talked about relationships, kids, work and life in general. I finally had the nerve to ask him about his ring. He told me that he didn’t always wear it, because it depended on what he was working on that day.
Over the course of our friendship, we have talked about everything. And I mean everything.
He has told me that his marriage isn’t good. He isn’t happy. He works his ass off and she is pretty unappreciative, from what I can tell. She doesn’t have to work. She stays home with their kids. She doesn’t ever want to have sex with him. She doesn’t kiss him or hug him or give him the attention that a wonderful man, like him, needs and deserves.
Now, I am not naïve enough to think I am getting the full story. I realize that I am only getting his side of it, but frankly, I don’t give one fuck about her side.
Anyway, I have confided in him about my whole life. He knows about the Accidental Relationship leaving. He knows about the 29 year old playing childish games with me. He knows about New York finding love. He also knows about the crazy, stalker that is Mr. Rocker.
On Thursday, when I was in the middle of my emotional breakdown last week, he stopped by to chat. And by chat, I mean, give me a big bear hug, that I needed more than anything. The minute I saw him, I threw my arms around him, buried my face in his neck and sobbed. Actually sobbed.
I told him how my self-esteem took a hit with everything that happened with the 29 year old. I told him that when I looked in the mirror, all I saw was wrinkles and gray hair and an old woman. He knows me well enough to know that that this not me “fishing”, it’s genuinely how I feel. The tears may have given that away as well.
He told me that I needed to be a bitch and put these men in their place. To not let them treat me like I was worthless. He said that I deserved more. That I deserved someone who would love me all the time, like I needed to be loved. He actually said that I should have told the 29 year old “it’s really easy to send pictures over messenger on Facebook, so don’t ever call me, text me or contact me at all anymore, or your girlfriend will know where you were on 7/2”.
I told him I didn’t want to make empty threats and didn’t want to be “that girl”. He told me that I needed to be “that girl”, so guys would quit treating me badly.
Something to think about, I guess.
We also talked more about his marriage and how things have been going down hill for him.
It actually made me cry. I sat and cried, while he told me about his marriage and how unwanted and unloved he felt. He said that he was staying married at this point, for the sake of the kids and her health insurance. (Thanks, Obama)
When he left, I started thinking about him. About us. Our friendship.
I love this man. I love everything about him. His voice. His face. His passion. His smile. Everything.
He has a voice that makes your panties wet. He says my name and I want to cum.
I know that the situation is awful. He’s in a horrible marriage. I’m a “fixer”. It’s a dangerous combination. For my heart and my soul.
But I love him.
I know that right now, he is wrong for me. For a million different reasons.
But I always wonder if someday, he could be right for me.