My dirty, despicable, horrible affair

I just read an incredible article in the New York Times magazine about a study being done of women who have seemingly lost their sexual desire... I thought all of you would enjoy it. Here's a little teaser paragraph: "Brotto is dealing in the domain of the mind, or in the mind’s relationship to the body, not in a problem with the body itself. Beneath Klimt’s couple, she opened yellow case folders and described the desolation and bewilderment recorded in her notes. She spoke about a woman in her 40s who, years ago, had sex with her husband as often as seven times in a day but who now, more than a decade into a marriage with this still-handsome man, cringes at the very same gesture, the very same touch to her back, that once electrified her. Two or three months might go by now without their having sex. “It’s fine for me not to have sex at all,” Brotto quoted the wife, and commented, “I hear that from a lot of women.” And yet, at the same time, the lack of libido isn’t fine at al...

So far so good on the stalker avoidance. Except... well, one thing. Remember me guessing my friend's email login? Over the last week, it occurred to me that there might be other "gold" in there to mine... what she had said about me. So I checked it out. And well... that was another battering ram. It's weird, because there's nothing to shake your confidence like the truth. I now am not sure I will ever have the same standing with her that I thought I did. I suppose I deserve it, snooping around her email. But here's the worst part-- yesterday she got an email from him. It was a simple one, just to say happy Thanksgiving and check in. No details. But I guess I broke the rules, because how much MORE of a stalker can I be, reading his message just freshly written? So guys, I still suck. Mentally I do feel better. Less controlled by it. But my actions speak volumes, don't they? Sorry to not be the bringer of massive hope.

OK guys, I know better than to say I've changed until at least a month or so passes... but I think I might have changed. At least a little bit. I decided to try not checking my stalker places at all this week as a goal, and it was pretty easy to do for a while. I found myself at home alone just now and went to check one of the places, and you know what? It just didn't feel good. Some part of me finally recognized that going there is like clubbing myself over the head. It hurts. And it's pointless. So why do it? My new goal? Don't check any of those places until at least the end of the month. Baby steps. Let's see if I can do this....

On my trip I started to realize something. I get stressed out in social situations sometimes because I feel like I don't have anything to say. With the old friends we were visiting, that rarely happened. But a lot of what we talked about focused on the past. I caught myself wondering with sadness whether my early 30's were the highlight of my life, and now I'll just live in a boring fog, always gazing back as the past gets blurrier and farther away. It's true that the pain of missing the exAP is fading over time. I spent some time that first morning I was back looking at his wedding pictures. But really, I've found that I just don't want to think about it. And maybe that's a good thing. Maybe I'm starting to realize that guy in the photos isn't someone I know now. It's someone from the past. Who is he today? I have less and less of an idea with every day that passes. I know he's human. I know he didn't find total bliss and perfection with...

A person in a similar situation contacted me on another website and wanted to hear my story. That site is being funky about what it will let me type in its email system, so here is the response for her...and for all of you.

I am just back to work today after a late return from vacation last night. It didn't take me long to find things to stab myself in the eye with things early this morning, but the giant pile waiting for me at work is keeping me busy. I suspect I will spend a lot of my weekend really poring over all of it; turning over every last rock. DH will be gone all day Sunday. The initial reaction is that it was a beautiful event. A goddamn beautiful, classy event. Shit.