I’m about to make some very bad choices. A whole weekend’s worth in fact. But bad choices that are also good for me? If that makes any sense. It’s certainly not moving on. The pain of not being with Goof is still with me in a very real and acute way every single minute of every single day. But I’m taking a weekend. I’m going to be young and careless and downright stupid. This weekend I’m not mom. I’m not responsible. I’m not even all that considerate of others, truth be told.




Pretty much since he went back out west they’ve had him up north on exercise. Had we still been together yesterday would have been the first time Squirt and I had seen him since the beginning of January. Because he’s back home now. Back in what was our apartment. Better yet he’s off work for a couple weeks. Right now we should be getting in all kinds of awesome family time. Instead I *know* his friends are dying to take him out as a single man. So instead of hanging out in our jammies and playing video games together he’s going to be going out. Single. And I’m obsessing about it. I can’t turn my damn brain off. I try and I try but my mind just won’t shut the hell up. How many days will it be before he’s bringing some other woman home to our apartment? To do things in our bed? On *my* sheets? Oh I know it is so *stupid* to be obsessing about this. I know that I am doing myself no good even thinking about it. But I just can’t help it. Since he was on his flight back home I have not been able to stop it. I’m driving myself absolutely insane. I know how these guys get when they’re out on exercise. I know how he will be when he comes home. It was usually the best sex we had. Only now he’ll be having it with someone else, and I just can’t handle it. How the hell do I turn my brain off? cause these days even wine won’t do it.


I go to bed each night on the mattress we bought the day after we first moved in together. I’m sure you remember. We spent one night on that hand-me-down mattress we were given and you woke up with a migraine. From the shitty mattress my parents gave us. So we went and made the first truly big purchase of our relationship. I sleep under the bright blue sheets we bought that same day, under the blanket my mom gave me for Christmas, that first year we were together that was meant for us to sleep under together. You know the one. The blanket we slept under together every night you were home for the past 3 years. The one that matched everything. The one you almost asked me to leave with you.

I spend most of my time during the day in the room where we first made love in hushed voices, so we wouldn’t wake my parents. The room where I whispered “I’m ready, please, be gentle” The room that would hold so many firsts for us. The room where I’m pretty sure our son was conceived.

I dress Squirt in clothes we picked out together. Stuff so cute we picked them up for him to grow into. I dress him in clothes you and I bought because we couldn’t wait to pull them over his head and watch him become our little man in them.

I play a video game from the series you got me into. A copy that you bought me when we were dividing up our stuff and we both wanted it so bad. I play it on the ps3 I was so mad when you bought it 3 years ago. The ps3 you gave me when I moved out. The ps3 that was like your second child.

I take a million pictures on the camera you bought me. The Camera you spent way too much on. The nicest camera I’ve ever owned (even if it’s not an SLR). I take pictures of our son. Of all the cute and funny things he does. Pictures of the little moments I don’t want to forget. I add the pictures to the folders and folders of pictures I have of our family of three. Now they are pictures of just 2.

Songs come on the radio every day. Songs we sang. Songs we danced to. Songs we fought to. Songs we played over and over when we first met. Songs we fucked to. Songs we listened to in your car before we fucked. Songs we played after we fucked. Songs we drove foolishly fast to. Songs we drank polar bear shots to. Songs I know you hate. Songs you know I hate. Songs we used to hate together. Songs that played on repeat the day I birthed our son. Songs we played over and over in OUR first home. Songs I introduced you to. Songs you introduced me to. Songs we heard for the first time together and fell in love with because they just described our love so perfectly.

I wear clothes I bought specifially to get your attention. Purposefully to turn you on. I picked them out, tried them on and took them to the check out solely with you in mind. Clothes you picked out for me. Clothes you just so badly wanted to see me in. Clothes you wanted so badly to rip off me.

I still have lingerie I bought just for you that you haven’t seen. Silly little gifts I had stashed away waiting in dark corners for some day when you needed a pick me up. Racy numbers I would have never bought before you breathed life and confidence into me. Sexy things I so badly wanted to show you. I still want to show you. The kind of things that the old me never would have dreamed of wearing. The kind of things you taught me can be so much fun.

I touch the ring you bought me daily. The ring you spent all your hard earned money on. The ring you so painstakingly picked out for me. The ring that is so perfect. The ring that was supposed to be your promise to me forever. Do you ever want it back? You told me to keep it, but do you regret that?


Take me back. Take me back. Take me back. Take me back. Take me back. Take me back.

This is the rhythm my heart is beating every second of every day.


I’m so lost. so many of the things that made me me are no longer. I’m no longer a milspouse. I’m no longer Goof’s fiancee. Soon I will no longer be a stay at home mom either. I’m still kind of numb to things. Kinda floating around ignoring so many feelings.

To say I’m devastated would be an understatement.


He told me he’s done.

Life just fucking sucks.


I just watched my love go to bed in our fairly new queen bed. I will be going to bed in the guest bed in a little while.

I’m scared shitless for what this means.