I love Prudie

Dear Prudence,
My boyfriend of two years says that he will not ask me to marry him unless I take a lie detector test to pinpoint the truth about certain things that have gone on in our relationship. I have been faithful and honest to him throughout the time we have been dating, with the exception of getting caught in some white lies about things that occurred before we were together. He says that if I have lied about little things, then I could lie about big things, and he needs to know he can trust me. I've always been of the mind-set that what happened before you were with your partner is not really their business and doesn't affect the relationship. I refuse under any circumstances to take the test. I've made sacrifices and compromises to keep him happy, but his request is completely unreasonable, isn't it? Is it a sign of overall problems? What should I do?

—Am I Crazy?

 

Dear Crazy,
Your boyfriend is onto something. Before committing to marriage, I think everyone should have their sphincter activity monitored in response to important questions. That way, you establish a baseline of trust. So surely your boyfriend would be willing to be hooked up to a lie detector and asked the following: "Are you a pathologically controlling sicko?" "Do you think of yourself as more of a boyfriend or parole officer?" "In your best judgment, would marriage to you be a living hell?" I'm going to assume that you got caught in some "white lies" because your boyfriend was prying about previous lovers and you knew from experience that if you gave him any names, you would be mercilessly grilled. You should have just told him, "This is none of your business." But as you've discovered, the longer you stay with a crazy, manipulative person, the more you lose touch with normal behavior and begin to doubt your own sanity. Your boyfriend has done you a great favor by insisting on the lie detector. This has revealed to you that the most important question to be asked is the one you put to yourself, which is "What did I ever see in this lunatic?"

—Prudie

 

 

 

Yesterday, I forgot to relate a rather morose detail from the weekend. She's been upset at my lack of sex, swearing my menopausal behaviors to actually mean I am cheating. This weekend, I decided to put my brain over my body and give instead of receiving. When she asked if she could touch me (I never let guys touch me when doing them, either, b/c then I begin to think about that and not them and become selfish), I told her no, that she was the focus. She got angry. I said I was starting my period and I just wasn't interested in me.

 

Then she said it.

 

"Let me see your tampon."

 

It's a classic line I will get to use in couple's therapy as I regain dignity. My therapist was aghast when I told her yesterday. There is some entertainment value, anyway.

Email hostage

Although her paranoia certainly predated the more severe version of the recent past, I finally found out the real cause this weekend, beyond her paranoia related to having a lifetime of female scoundrels in her presence, people who lie and cheat with abandon, people who have AIDS and do not inform partners, people who routinely engage in illegal activities that Bea seems to condone, with Bea also doing some illegal crap in there to boot.

So, when she read my email folders at least a year ago as I stupidly left the computer on (hmmm, I should review the blog for the dates), there was more in them than I recalled. After I'd learned she read anything from Richard or Lyd, I deleted everything, so I had no concept of what she read.

That's where she and I differ. I learned this weekend that she has them ... and I don't. During her foray, she forwarded all the emails to herself. She claims to have *only* read them five or six times, but she seems to have them committed to memory.

I have readily admitted to my transgressions here and I honestly admit that all were not transgressions to me. However, I have been nothing but faithful to Bea, although I do understand how one could be driven to cheat now.

So she's read and re-read my emails, has gone through my computer's pictures, has routinely gone through my phone, and a vertical folder of old and personal cards, etc, but somehow I am the bigger scoundrel in this b/c I had a life before her. I keep reminding her to wait another 20 years and see what kind of stuff she winds up doing after broken marriages, engagements, plus dashed dreams of additional children and my own picket fence. Yeah, one tends to react to life when one fights with all of one's might not to just hide under a rock. My life didn't go the way I wanted, so I carved out another life. I have succeeded on my own.

Life. That's my concern. She has Richard's email address, so she has both his name and his recognizable work location. How much of his life is she willing to wreck over two incidents that do not affect her in the least? Over a person I have not spoke to in over a year and a half?

My therapist asked why I would be willing to go through couple's therapy with her. I replied that some ego is involved. I'm not a bad person. I am not how she paints me. My therapist and Bea as well wonder who she knows b/c it obviously isn't me. Well, I deserve some validation about that. I'm not the bad guy here and I don't deserve to be treated as such.

When I asked her to delete the emails, she said she only would after we take them to therapy. She wants a firing squad and I have no idea if she has or has not sent them on to other email accounts just to dodge her promise to delete them.

Things aren't good, but my back is against the wall here. I have to find a couple's therapist.

I want to connect with you

I think I am out of touch and I really don't like it. My Google Reader is great, but it is so large and cumbersome that I don't know who I read anymore. It is not up to date or reflect who I want to follow..

If you have a blog I should be reading, let me know. For every one I add, I'll take another off.

A dilemma

So I have the opportunity to reunite for lunch (routinely) with at least half a dozen moms from the moms group I was a part of a decade ago. Back then, I was very active, a leader, and a guest speaker twice. For part of it, I was married, but essentially single, and for the rest I was actually single. I left after about five years when my membership was up and my enthusiasm had whittled down. Mostly, my son had started school and I had little in common with new members and their new babies.

Therein lies the rub.

A number of this lunch club spit out babies at will or several had them by accident. One in particular (loathe is too nice a word) trapped her poor husband into procreating without appropriate notice for her last two...out of five. At an after-meeting with just her, another mom, and me, I once told her that I could hit her in the face after another one of her rubs. And I could have. She knew I suffered with infertility and yet took every chance she could to remind me of her fertility.

Sorry, but I tell few that I am atheist, however if you carry on about your religion to me repeatedly in a holier than thou fashion as if it is the only life choice, I will offer an alternative viewpoint. Strongly.

In either situation, I am strangely viewed as the bad guy, which is something I am trying to prevent this time. See, I was the poor single mom who did not have a hubby daddy to buy me a McMansion and a Lexus. Fine, I don't see any of that changing. What did change, though, in addition to many years of reading and crying with infertility blogs, was my art emphasis, my professionalism, and my esteem.

In fact, the only reason I learned these moms still get together was because the nicest among them saw my art at my gallery over Thanksgiving and took the time to look me up and email. Then she asked if I'd be interested in lunch, which of course should not be as earth-shaking as it feels.

Bea accuses me of too much self promotion, considering it akin to attention seeking, but I call it appropriate marketing b/c I am a small business. If I were to go to a lunch with them, I would have to let the babies, riches, new cars, and grand houses all fall to the side, b/c I would get to toot my own horn about something special I was born with and am taking the time to capitalize on. I would not care about their viewing my art or a sale and would never elaborate on the snicker-value of sexual orientation. I just would want them to know that I am in national shows, win awards, get juried in exhibits routinely, and have my own juried gallery position(s). (There may be another coming.)

The art part feels good. Revisiting infertility, or rather the massive fertility of others, does not. Which would you choose?