Ok I'm really conflicted now.
Two nights ago we had a talk. Actually I talked. I told her that I need her to understand that something has changed in me - that I don't believe that she loves me anymore. Up until now I've always just believed that she loves me, it's just a phase we're going through, that there was just this one 'thing' to get through and then we'd be back to normal.
Now I believe that this is normal - that she doesn't actually want to get past this 'stage', that she thinks this is normal.
I told her this. I told her that me stopping bugging her for sex isn't a good thing, it doesn't mean everything's ok between us, it means that I've stopped grieving over that. I told her that I don't think of her as my wife anymore.
I asked her if she still loved me, it's not hard, you just say "I love you". She grimaced and said that she didn't know. Then I told her that if she doesn't love me then please, to leave. Please don't keep doing this to me for the next 10, 20, 30 years.
"I don't know" isn't good enough when we've got 2 kids, a mortgage and you're coming up on your 10th anniversary. I've had a vasectomy for this woman. I gave her every single day of my 20's - I've never been (nor want to be) with another woman.
What I basically told her is that it's really really really crunch time now - if there's anything that she's been holding back on, now's the time to act. Like, if she's been sleeping in instead of getting up at 6am to do exercises... or, now's the time to put the kids in childcare and get a job... All the things that she'd deeply regret now doing in ten year's time, all the 'if only's that she's going to go through.
I'm not being arrogant here, but I think I'm the best thing to ever happen for her, and I want to make the road back to our marriage as easy as I can for her. I think her life will be much worse than my life after we seperate. I'm the one who has the income to afford a house. I'm the one with hobbies and interests. I'm the one who will have some certainty in my life - my career - when things go pear-shaped at home. I'll be a wreck, but I do believe that I'll pull through it stronger and maybe even happier. Not her. It will be a big problem for her. Even if she gets to stay in the house (which is likely, really. More likely than me taking the kids to my parents house, or more likely than me finding time and money to put them in child care).
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So last night we went to a concert together. Her favorite band. Actually, we didn't go together. She left with a friend before I even got home from work. I went in seperately. She left the ticket at the door for me. I didn't see her all night. Didn't look for her. I just sat up the back thinking all those things that I've got above. I couldn't even bring myself to think about the impact on the kids - just that if it's true, if she doesn't love me, then I'm going to have to pack my clothes, my guitar, my bike, and go live with my parents and start to commute to work by car. I sat at the back and tried to enjoy it, but, really, I was just thinking about that.
Then our band came on. Her FAVORITE band. As in, last weekend she drove 2000km round trip to see them play 2 shows. She has ALL their music, including most of the vinyl, even though we don't have a record player. She has a box full of souvenirs under her bed. She's adorned our car in their stickers. Her favorite band.
I moved forward a bit when they were starting, and had a pretty good time. It wasn't until about 2/3 when a couple of kids rushed past me to go dance up the front and I followed them. (Actually, I'm 6'6", I put my hands on this guys back and _pushed_ him through the crowd.) And then I got to join the mosh-pit and do some slam dancing and had a great time. They're an awesome live band, they've got to be one of the best.
After the show finished I was tempted just to leave. Just go. But I hung around and waited while the crowds dispersed. I walked around a bit. I had in mind to just follow her and watch her for a while. But then I turned around and she was right there and beaming and she had a drumstick in her hand!! She'd scored one of the drumsticks from the concert when they chuck stuff out into the crowd. She beamed at me, and I gave her a great big hug when I saw her drumstick (she didn't let it out of her little fist the whole night) and gave her a kiss.
And then she kissed me back.
And then I kissed her back.
And then she kissed me back. I heard her making little appreciative noises.
And we made out like teenagers on the dancefloor of this night-club as people walked around us in a post-gig dehydrated daze.
And then... that was it. After that when I tried to put my hand on her shoulder she flinched away from me. When I tried to hug her she caught someone's eye and went across to talk to somone. I stood around her an hour while she talked to her friends from the fan club and then said "ok, I'm going to go" and walked off.
She got home an hour after me and we went straight to bed to sleep. No kiss good night. She did, I guess, go to sleep without the pillow between us, instead putting her arm on my side. That's something I guess. Something.
Got up this morning an hour late. Am at work and all I can think of is her lips and how they reacted to mine. Lips. I talked to her on the phone just now about getting baby sitting so she can come see my show tomorrow, and it was like talking to a stranger again.
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You see, what I now realise is that there isn't going to be an "Oh, it's all ok now" moment. She isn't going to melt, look up at me, realise how deeply she's attracted to me, kiss me and suddenly everything will be ok again as the sound-track starts on the theme-song and the camera zooms out and the credits roll up.
If she kisses me, or makes love to me, that's not going to be "it's all ok now" love... that's going to be "Oh, I slipped up but it won't happen again." The next moment she'll go back to not wanting to touch me and she'll be confused and hurt that I haven't 'got it out of my system'. She won't actually SAY it, but I know she'll be thinking, even sub-consiously "Again? But we had sex last week?! Why is he still bugging me about this?"
I'm going to close with a Woody Allen scene where Woody and his wife are both talking to their respective therapists, and they're both asked the same question "So, how often do you have sex?" Woody looks morose and says "Oh, hardly ever. Once, maybe twice a week." His wife is exasperated "ALL the time. Once, maybe twice a week!"
