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More..., Cheating Spouse, needs

Fallout from Infidelity…Take Cover!

December 28, 2012
by Cleo Everest

I picture some of you with sugar plums spilling out of your grinning mouths.  Others wearing footie PJs and popping dark chocolate.  And over there, where the lights twinkle, I see the holiday triathlete set – pre-Christmas bashes, Christmas Day done right, and gearing up for New Year’s Eve.  Your endurance is respectable.  Admired, even.  You are the kids who can hit the gym for a week and look smokin hot regardless of the sugar cookies, champagne and the Manchego cheese drizzled with black truffle honey (Oh, wait, that last one’s mine.) that you put back like Lohan on a bender.

I love you for that.

Tonight I am a puddle.  The tall dude spent the overnight at the hospital.  What looked like appendicitis turned out to be (I SO love bathroom humor) a yacht sized poo crammed into a too small canal.  At about 11:30 this morning he announced the impending birth.

I’m going to drop the kids off at the pool.

That’s no kid, dude.  That’s Sasquatch.

5 minutes later…

You’re right, Mommy!  It is Sasquatch!  And he’s shaved!

I attempted a comeback but stopped short.  Those three sentences need to stand alone.  Instead, I stood over the toilet bowl marveling at the dude’s creation as I began The Plunge; a Herculean task.

A 50 year old man would have been the more likely manufacturer for that large shipment.

As I said, I am a puddle.  Feeling more like watching my feelings for a while to see what they have to say than writing it out just yet.  I’m too cloudy.  But I have this for you…

Other than one comment from The Genius that I have not posted (not to say I won’t some day), this is the only comment that has never seen the light at HGM.  When I first received it, I was too overwhelmed to craft a reply.  Then I felt it was simply too personal to post.  I had so much to say, but felt I ought not be in the middle.  And that he may have regretted writing it.  So, there it sat.  For months.  Never deleted, while all others were posted, save one.

Over the past week I’ve been pondering this comment.  My curiosity about the genesis of affairs and the collateral damage has been fed by owl sightings and foggy nights of late.  Brian’s words drifted in and out of my core while I gazed up at the moon and the beam of Jupiter, sitting just off a silvery white swirl of paint floating in gray and black clouded sky.  Last night, before our trip the ER, I felt the time was right to publish B’s words, and do so in the body of a new post.

Perfect timing.  My eyes are in fact shut.  I have no idea what I’m typing.

Please, read his words with an open heart.  Because you deserve to have one.  And let me know your thoughts.  I’m curious.  And I appreciate it.  Tomorrow I will be all Big Bad VooDoo Daddy.  So needed.  Then, I’m begging you to come walk through the Christmas Just Passed with me.  I have goosebumps just thinking about it.

Merry, Happy, Holy, Holly.  You look so slammin with that bow on.  Best present ever.

Love yourself,

Cleo

From Brian to Marcia:

 

 

 

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About the Author

When I received the Pocket Call and listened to my husband and his mistress order a bottle of wine to take to their room, I took back my life. That very night I stood outside, under the stars, and made a commitment to the Universe and to myself: I will make this the best thing that ever happened to me. From that day forward I’ve been brave. Very brave. HGM is a raw account of how infidelity is changing my world. No real names are used. But everything else is real.

Find me on Twitter

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