I got on the hopium and had a terrible fake reconciliation. After the most recent D-Day (two weeks ago tomorrow) — found out my sex addict STBX had visited the same hotel two days in a row, while I was working — I kicked him out and filed for divorce. I have gone complete no contact.
I’m still struggling with feeling rejected because he essentially chose cheating over me. Here’s the email he sent me a few days after I kicked him out. Would you run it through the Universal Bullshit Translator? Thank you!!
Sure. The UBT has been wanting to cook some sad sausages on the grill since Labor Day.
I am making assumptions about what you have been doing and what the future looks like. I received confirmation that you (I assume it was you) submitted a change of address for me.
I am confused. Is this confirmation of a consequence?
I also assume that means you don’t want to see me at all — whether that’s permanent or temporary (needing space), I don’t know. Either way, I accept that you believe I’m an unhealthy presence in yours and your son’s lives, even in brief exchanges (like mail). I am responsible for those feelings and I want you to know I’m sitting with them and mentally doing all I can to have them impact me in a positive way.
I deduce from this postal forwarding that you don’t want to see me. But I don’t know. Perhaps you are only rejecting my mail and not me.
Now I’m scrunching up my face and trying very hard to pen Human Remorse-ish.
You believe I’m an unhealthy presence.
I shall labor under your cruel intangible prejudices about me… based on evidence that I was fucking strange in a hotel while you worked.
Yes, I am responsible for those feelings. (Feelings I don’t name. What are feelings? Do they taste like bubblegum? What else can people say about feelings? Oh, you sit with them! They impact you! They’re mental!)
I’m doing all I can to have your horror impact me in a positive way!
Whirrrrp! Me! Whirrrrp!
I will not come by the house or try to call, text or email you again until at least October 1, unless it is a dire emergency. When I do try to reach out to you again, it will be by email.
A dire emergency such as I need my moldy sweatshirt, or a cup of sugar, or my dick is hard.
You will receive an email.
I am incredibly sad about how this happened, about my own behavior, about losing your trust, about the emotional and mental toll you have endured since we have been together, about losing you and the kids and the dog.
I’m incredibly sad about my change of address.
Just having some time since Saturday to reflect has gotten me out of self-pity mode and more aware of the trauma and harm I have caused you.
Which is why I went to the hotel twice — to reflect on your trauma.
And although you have said multiple times that apologies are not what you want, I don’t think that closure can be fully achieved for either of us or that change is possible on my end without saying that I am sorry. I’m so sorry that I cheated on you, that I lied to you, that I gaslit you, that I scared you, that I belittled you, that I dishonored our marriage and our vows.
I just cribbed this from the 1,327 emails you sent me during our last reconciliation. See I was paying attention!
Please accept my apology as expressed via fucking strange in a hotel after you took me back. #closure
I did all of this more times than I can count. If you had done these things to me even once, I’m certain I would have responded the same way you have. I’m certain I would have been traumatized and would have struggled, at best, to believe anything you told me. I would have felt devalued. I would have suffered through mood swings, including depression and anxiety. I would have found it difficult, at best, to express affection for you because I, too, would have struggled to be vulnerable with you.
I really did take copious notes… to mindfuck you with. A whole new vocabulary! Devalued! Vulnerable! Traumatized!
I have no feelings (just a throbbing dick) but I’m certain if I had them (I don’t) I would be Just Like You! Sad and so, so very useful. I would not be this mean bitch forwarding my mail.
I have said many, many times in the past that I will not commit these acts again or to make you feel these terrible emotions. But I have failed. And I’m sorry. I’m going to return to doing the work required to be a better person.
It’s off to the hotel again to reflect on your trauma.
To not lie. To not rely on the instant gratification of an orgasm to make myself feel better when I’m scared or wishing a problem would go away.
I wank because I’m scared! Turn a light on, you say. Read a funny book. Look at puppy memes. No! I need ejaculate! Only spraying jizz about with pay-by-the-hour women will make me feel better about myself!
It’s possible that being alone will help me do that,
It’s possible that being alone I will not be able to afford hotels. Or a place to forward my mail.
will help me figure out why I hurt you so badly and did not control my behavior when I needed to. I really hope I’m able to be the person we have both wanted me to be.
Boy, it’s a real mystery why I hurt you and didn’t control my behavior. I sure hope we can figure it out!
It will not be because of genuine commitment to that effort.
Fuck. I accidentally said something truthful. Had my manipulation been on point, I would’ve written “It will not be for lack of genuine commitment to that effort.” Instead I baldly stated the truth. I have no genuine effort at being better.
My heart hurts.
Remorse-ish is exhausting!
I feel really empty and rudderless. I know things will get better — for you and for me. I do not, however, envision a day when I won’t love you or desire you or want more than anything to grow old with you and to be your husband and Toto’s stepdad. I love you, more than I’ve ever loved another person or thing.
I just express my love through fucking other people in hotel rooms while you work. I can’t envision a day when I’d have to adult. I want more than anything to grow old with you and let you do all the adulting.
That love is not my motivation for change; I’m motivated by the harm and trauma I have yet caused the person I’ve loved more than anything and by never wanting to do that to anyone ever again. If I get another chance to be the person in your life that you deserve, I will be eternally grateful. If I don’t, I’ll have to accept the enormous loss and remember it always.
I’m so motivated by the harm and trauma I caused you, after you took me back, I went and fucked around again. And again. I’m THAT motivated to be the person you deserve.
I think you deserve shit. I am that shit.
If you ever need me, I will be there.
Like a stubborn toilet bowl stain. Or a boil on your ass that never heals. Or gum stuck under a desk. I will be there. Disgusting, useless, but there. Always.
Skeeter, keep the mail forwarded.
No tag backs.