Me and Sugar
There's a few very sad posts here at the moment, relationships on the brink of failure, partners who are understandably confused and frightened.
I can't defend other guys, survivors. I don't know what happens in other peoples lives.
All I know is what happened to me and a bit of experience.
The thing I feared all my life was rejection, and the main thing that was likely to cause that - in my mind - was my abuse.
I felt it was my fault, I enjoyed it and all the other shit they told me. I believed their lies.
So it was a certainty that my wife would believe the lies as well.
I didn't even know how to lie myself and make it sound as though it wasn't my fault. That's a weird concept as well - but I had no framework or anything to alter the story of my abuse so I appeared innocent.
I could lie for England - I was acting out with other men ! but I couldn't figure out what to say, what angle to use, what to tell or what to hide.
Eventually I spat it out, why that day and time is still clouded in mystery, but...
At the time our marriage was dead in the water. I did just enough to get by - a quick kiss now and again, I said " I love you" at least twice a day for heavens sake ! I did minimal houswork and jobs, I sat watching crap on TV all night, drank too much and was generally useless.
My wife, convinced I was having an affair, retreated and let me get on with it. She did nothing in return - why the hell should she ?
So things were bad.
But we still hadn't descended to hateing each other, in fact we still loved each other but didn't know it. So we didn't argue and fight, we just ......existed together.
So I told her one day that I'd been abused, sat at the kitchen table with my cold dinner in front of me, a couple of weeks before out 25th wedding anniversary.
I was scared to death that I'd be shown the door on the one hand, and not giving a f**k on the other. The marriage was dead.
So the choices of "the door" or "rejection as a pervert" were much the same I guess. As long as I went with my Jeep and record collection I was prepared for anything.
Well, almost anything.
The one thing I hadn't really considered was acceptance and understanding. My best bet scenario was carrying on as we were I think.
We had to go out that night with friends so an hour after I uttered the first words we were out and acting ! But once home again we talked for most of the night. Probably more than we'd talked for years.
The rest as they say is history.
We have NO secrets and I tell her what's happeneing in my head as best I can at all times, and she tells me.
We're never going to be the carefree 18yo hippies sat in the sun at the Reading Pop Festival watching Rod Stewart stoned out of our trees ! Or the blissful 21 yo's we were when we married. I've re-hung the wedding picture though.
But we don't care any more, I'll never know how much I hurt her by keeping my secret all those years, what about acting out ? how much hurt was that ? too fucking much I know.
But it's gone, it's history. We move on.
I've said before that the most hateful phrase in the English language is "I told you so." I hate it, and thankfully neither of us has used it once.
No matter what hurt we feel we share it, but we keep blame and recriminations well out of it.
I've done enough of that for myself, I don't need other peoples. I know she feels the same.
We did nothing wrong, not me - not 'Sugar'.
Dave
I can't defend other guys, survivors. I don't know what happens in other peoples lives.
All I know is what happened to me and a bit of experience.
The thing I feared all my life was rejection, and the main thing that was likely to cause that - in my mind - was my abuse.
I felt it was my fault, I enjoyed it and all the other shit they told me. I believed their lies.
So it was a certainty that my wife would believe the lies as well.
I didn't even know how to lie myself and make it sound as though it wasn't my fault. That's a weird concept as well - but I had no framework or anything to alter the story of my abuse so I appeared innocent.
I could lie for England - I was acting out with other men ! but I couldn't figure out what to say, what angle to use, what to tell or what to hide.
Eventually I spat it out, why that day and time is still clouded in mystery, but...
At the time our marriage was dead in the water. I did just enough to get by - a quick kiss now and again, I said " I love you" at least twice a day for heavens sake ! I did minimal houswork and jobs, I sat watching crap on TV all night, drank too much and was generally useless.
My wife, convinced I was having an affair, retreated and let me get on with it. She did nothing in return - why the hell should she ?
So things were bad.
But we still hadn't descended to hateing each other, in fact we still loved each other but didn't know it. So we didn't argue and fight, we just ......existed together.
So I told her one day that I'd been abused, sat at the kitchen table with my cold dinner in front of me, a couple of weeks before out 25th wedding anniversary.
I was scared to death that I'd be shown the door on the one hand, and not giving a f**k on the other. The marriage was dead.
So the choices of "the door" or "rejection as a pervert" were much the same I guess. As long as I went with my Jeep and record collection I was prepared for anything.
Well, almost anything.
The one thing I hadn't really considered was acceptance and understanding. My best bet scenario was carrying on as we were I think.
We had to go out that night with friends so an hour after I uttered the first words we were out and acting ! But once home again we talked for most of the night. Probably more than we'd talked for years.
The rest as they say is history.
We have NO secrets and I tell her what's happeneing in my head as best I can at all times, and she tells me.
We're never going to be the carefree 18yo hippies sat in the sun at the Reading Pop Festival watching Rod Stewart stoned out of our trees ! Or the blissful 21 yo's we were when we married. I've re-hung the wedding picture though.
But we don't care any more, I'll never know how much I hurt her by keeping my secret all those years, what about acting out ? how much hurt was that ? too fucking much I know.
But it's gone, it's history. We move on.
I've said before that the most hateful phrase in the English language is "I told you so." I hate it, and thankfully neither of us has used it once.
No matter what hurt we feel we share it, but we keep blame and recriminations well out of it.
I've done enough of that for myself, I don't need other peoples. I know she feels the same.
We did nothing wrong, not me - not 'Sugar'.
Dave