I have set the scene and been more than honest with myself and all of my faceless comrades in this blog, but even I must admit that this has seemed more soap opera than I was willing to admit. There is no background story, no basis for my opinions or actions. I feel that it is time to place a little interlude, to let you all know me a little bit better.

I have been with my husband for four years, none of which could be even remotely called wonderful. We met on a whim, and I stayed with him out of pure chance and what some might call retribution. I myself have never been unfaithful to him, not even when we separated for a few months a couple of years ago. I couldn't bring myself to be with anyone else, no matter how tempting the offer was. I have dreamed about infidelity, wished even that I was capable of such disregard for someone else. Unfortunately I have a very controlling sense of obligation. And that is what my marriage is, an obligation. I am obligated to tolerate this man, to love him in one fashion or another, and to not sleep with anyone else.

C., the one for whom I long in more ways than one, was an old flame, or so I thought. I have carried a thing for him for six years, no matter what my relationship status was.  I have cared for him as much as I have cared for anyone in my life, with the exception of my children. We have always gotten along marvelously, even when we had nothing in common, no shared interests other than each other. Because he is interested in me, I am just not sure what it is that he is interested in. I suspect that it has been and remains mostly sexual, although we haven't slept together in six years. We have always talked off and on and always been friendly. He is the only person of the opposite sex that I can talk to in a very natural and comfortable way even when we haven't spoken in months. On the other hand, there is the invariable reference to sex, because I find him devilishly sexy and he remembers more than one night where we managed to keep each other warm regardless of the temperature. In short, I think I may love him, and that he may love me, but there is always a question in mind of just what it is that he loves, and most days I really and truly believe that it has nothing to do with anything that isn't covered with a bra and panties.

I haven't had any real contact with men in over four years, because my husband is insanely jealous. Other than those whom I am related to, I don't talk to anyone with a penis unless it is a conversation consisting of less than six sentences and none of them are personal. I have been primarily a stay at home mother, for better or for worse. I didn't start thinking of other men, other people until I started working a couple of months ago. I just don't have the time or availability to associate with others, because my home life is very involved. I am not kept a shut in, mind you. I do go out with friends, and family, and even spend time away from home, without my children every once in a while. But knowing how vulnerable and insecure my husband is, I stave off the attention of others to prevent the inevitable breakdown.

I don't have the heart to just end it, because there is no clean break when there are children involved. I don't want my children to live in an envirnment of resentment and hatred, because even though I can hide it from them, their father cannot. He is simply not capable. I don't want my kids to hear what a bitch mommy was, how evil she is, how much she wanted to be a selfish bitch and ignore her family and her obligations. Because this is exactly what would happen. When they are older, when they can see what home life is, and how the dynamics of our family work, they will know that it is not true that I want to hurt their father, that I am that vindictive. But until then, it is easier to grin and bear it then it would be to leave. Part of being a mother is having the willingness to sacrifice for your children. This is my cross to bear, and this is how I cope with it. By pouring my heart and soul into a computer, into cyberspace, and hoping against hope that someone else understands.