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inamaranthinedreams · 5 years ago

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Even the best men in my life always lie

They say journaling is good for self healing. Nothing else seems to be helping so I figure I'll give it a shot.

13 years ago I met a man I thought was amazing. 6 years ago I finally realized he was a total piece of shit. Not only had he completely ruined my life, gaslit me at every opportunity, and made me genuinely believe I wasn't worth shit, he ended the relationship because he was fucking my best friend. At that point I realized I'd never trust another person again.

n the 2 years after my ex and I broke up, I hopped into many beds. Not so many that I don't know the approximate number, but enough that I don't know the exact. Because I didn't trust anyone, I drank a lot to numb my feelings. I went to work, I went to the bar, I fucked a guy (maybe a one night stand, maybe a couple times, depending on how bad he was in bed), and I went home. And repeat.

Four years ago I met a guy. He seemed funny and a good drinking buddy. We went out drinking a couple nights after we met, had a good night. And of course I ended up in his bed. Where else would I end up? That's when I found out he was relatively (very) inexperienced and I was the slut in comparison. Why he chose me when he could do better, I'm not sure.

That year for Halloween apparently he fell in love with me. We started dating. I didn't take it seriously, I knew he'd lose interest in me or I'd lose interest in him and we'd move on. I never cheated on him, but I "knew" things weren't going to work out. I used to post my nudes online as some sort of validation, since my parents gave me a totally fucked up idea of how women should be. Women are only here for sexual pleasure, and I needed people to tell me I was fuckable. Since I wasn't fucking other men anymore, I especially needed that attention. But he didn't like it so I agreed to stop, if he agreed to stop cruising those subreddits. Tit for tat, if you will, no pun intended. I did hold up my end of the bargain. He never held up his. I suppose in hind sight I did know, but I wanted to pretend he was a good man.

Three months later he proposed. Two years later I finally figured out he was serious and we got married. Only one year later I was pregnant (on purpose) and at 30 years old I had a good career that pays well, a husband, a baby on the way, a mortgage, and everything you're supposed to have as a white suburban woman. I think.

He loved me. I think. He doted on me and made sure I was never sad. He was never emotionally abusive the way my exes were. He cared how I felt, he would do anything to make me happy. Well, almost anything.

When I was about 3 months pregnant, he was so happy to my face about the pregnancy. But apparently under his skin this was all boiling into a mess. His anxiety was destroying him, and apparently his addiction to porn, a coping mechanism he'd had since he was 12, was his only joy in life. He would watch women get anally fucked, every single day, for several hours a day. Not even as a "means to an end" but just as a dopamine rush to make him feel better about the life he apparently didn't want. Despite "wanting" to get married and "wanting" to have a baby, the anxiety was eating him alive and he was miserable. I could no longer make him happy like porn could. Our sex life died. Our communication halted. We were never happy. My sex drive, which was already high before pregnancy, had ramped up to 11 because of all the hormones. I could have had sex every hour for the entire 9 months, even despite the morning sickness and fatigue. And he couldn't/wouldn't give it to me because all he wanted was other women.

I finally asked him to stop watching porn and seek therapy. This isn't a healthy coping mechanism as an escape to his sad life and he needs to either deal with it, or make life better. Running away from reality isn't a way to live. He agreed. At 6 months pregnant, I found out he was still lying. He wasn't watching hardcore porn anymore, he was watching girls squatting on YouTube because that "wasn't as bad" but at the same time told me he "didn't think about it." I'm not sure how you can "not think about it" when you're actively justifying why you watched that instead of PornHub. But what do I know, I'm not an addict.

At 8 months pregnant, he came home from a business trip. I found out once again, he had lied. He still was doing it and hiding it from me. He refused therapy. He "knew" he could do better.

Throughout all this, I had provided him a folder of photos and videos of me and us, for him to use at his leisure as long as it didn't impact our active sex life. Time and time again he disregarded my content in favor of women on reddit, etc. He almost never looked at me. One time he told me that he would watch porn to get excited and then use mine sometimes to finish the job. As if that's supposed to make me feel better.

2 weeks after our baby girl was cut from my belly, in an emergency c section that I actually felt because the epidural didn't work on my right side, I found out he was yet again lying. I decided that was it. Sore from the surgery and exhausted from a colicky baby, I asked for a divorce. He cried, I cried, he promised he'd go to therapy. Things would be better. He'd "do anything" for me.

Anything but temporarily stop using porn, the first four times I asked, of course.

We're six months from that day now. He swears it's better. I have, with his permission, gone through his stuff to see if he's still lying. I can't find evidence that he is a liar, the way he has been for the first four years of our relationship, but I wonder if he's just gotten better at hiding it.

So here we are. I am six months post partum. I hate my body. I hate the stretch marks and the saggy skin. Every once in a while I see my body and it occurs to me that I grew an entire person. Those stretch marks and saggy skin are battle scars. But then I see my husband's eyes land on those and I feel small and ugly and disgusting. He has never treated me this way, but the very fact that he continues to choose other women, and is willing to risk his marriage and relationship with his child just so he can peruse other women's nudes and feel a little better about his sad shitty life, to me it says I don't mean anything to him. He wants things to be better. But as far as I'm concerned he can change all he wants now, he wasn't willing to change when it really mattered.

And now when he looks at me I feel disgust. And when I look at him, I also feel disgust. I want to feel the way I used to when he would fuck me. I want to feel sexy and desired, not as just a replacement or a "you'll do" when all he really wants is his porn stars. I used to have sex with him and even his negative aspects I found endearing. Now I look at him and think, if he wants some young thick/fit little thing, why shouldn't I want a guy with a 6 pack abs and a dick the size of a 20oz Red Bull? When he's spending hours pouring over his cartoon porn with perfectly and impossibly shaped women, why shouldn't I be spending hours drooling over uncut men? If he doesn't want me, then I don't want him either.

But he says he does want me. He says he wants to be with me, emotionally and sexually, and I'm all he wants in the world. But when I asked him to make a compromise with me, just temporarily to get our relationship on track, that wasn't worth it. He wasn't willing to give up the girls who wouldn't even care enough to scoff in his direction if they saw him in real life. They were so much more important than I ever was or will be to him. How do I recover from that?

This journal has been made just so I can ramble here when things get really bad. When I'm disgusted by him and want to do myself in. When I feel like there's no hope and I need to get a divorce. Because in 6 months I have felt worse and worse about myself and at this point I am torn between feeling very proud of my personal and professional life, and just feeling like I hope I don't wake up tomorrow.

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