"I do not want to be disrespected anymore. Undervalued. As a person, as company, as a friend, as a lover. This I know. I am not confused about what I do NOT want."
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I tried unblogging the rest below in favor of the upshot up there. But no, I haven't gotten any further (yet) in my thinking.
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Could it be that he was more invested in our plotline than I was? Wouldn’t that be an odd thing to discover? I mean, I wanted commitment don’t get me wrong. But it was more absolute. As in, if you are attached to someone then you are, period. Married was code for me, to mean that. To him, the plotline mattered more than the person in the plot. But me, well I’ve read about a buttgillion plots, each worth reading is its own weirdness and entirely character-driven. He cheats. He leaves. And in so doing switches out the woman he has for one who is better on paper. New plotline, one he can more easily see the arc of, her ovaries probably work (if not, we can switch her out again), it’s not her that matters much. Then as per usual he realizes he doesn’t like her smell, her anything. So yeah, the plot can’t drive the story dude. The people drive the plot. I’ve told my belief in that a million times, he can’t fathom it, he and I just cannot see eye to eye on that basic value structure. Plus, his dick talks him into this shit too, every time he does it, whispering crap into his ear like “this is the one!” just because it likes new pussy and pussy it ain’t supposed to have too especially (like a button that says don’t push me). That dick of his is like Mr. Nicotine, whispering in his ear all the time, about how good it’s going to feel andit probably won’t kill him (and ya never know, she might have something totally new, a clit piercing or something, LET’S FIND OUT!). It’s laughable, it really is, the logic of a dick when it’s being a dick, ya know what I’m saying? I do not want to be disrespected anymore. Undervalued, as a person, as company, as a friend, as a lover. This I know. I am not confused about what I do not want. And I don’t want the plotline anymore either. Not that one. It was his in the first place and he is the one who bails out of it (!) To hold him inside a fence means he immediately ruins the yard digging escape holes. Fuck that. The gate is wide open. So stop making a mess. Anyway. It was never the plot in the first place that I was in it for. It was HIM. I didn’t want to be married and then looked around for someone to fit that bill. He came, and with him came plot. He likes a fuss. So I threw a fuss. And added a spell to own it too, make the fuss my own for him. Now that is done. I speak in other currencies entirely unless I am trying to speak to him in his. If I met a man for whom my defenses fell and I unfurled, with whom I could talk for hours about nothing, who got all my jokes and could withstand all my desire. And he said, Look I want to never live in your house or have dinner with both you and my mother, but I’ll tattoo your name on my ass and take out every dirty thought I’ve had on your body and then sometimes feed you bbq. Then go home to play with my fish tank and do my own laundry. (The downside is?) The downside is that’s not plot. And he likes a plot. He likes THE PLOT, his parents’ life, their exact plotline, played out in the same place, with the same parameters, the same fusses, anniversary gifts that match the number of years, the script all laid out in every detail. And hey, we all want what we want. He wants that. And I am not that. I am I. All he gets out of me is me. Not enough. For him anyway. Not by that measuring tape. But I don’t have to use that measure – I never wanted to grow up to be his mother so I ain’t, which is no surprise to me. And he DID want to grow up to be his dad, but he AIN’T, and that’s some kind of surprise to him but … (shrug) All this, it isn't MY downside. For me the downside is that we have to add in “And I want to fuck other people that my dick has picked out and pretend I’m going to have kids with them until I get to know them, because I’m into that from time to time” to his list of stipulations, which is, well, hard to plan (so much as a vacation) around if nothing else. I can’t really blame him for it – most of my closest friends went through some ‘polyamory’ period in their 30’s. And I always thought it was nuts, but then again my 30’s were no fun at all, so what the hell do I know? I probably didn’t do it just because I wasn’t into it, which is hardly an achievement on my part. I dunno. (Shrug.) He clearly is some kind of attached to me. And I still am studying the matter. And if I am honest, except for how much it is not what he wants, now is better than what it was for me. How it is now isn’t all I want either, obviously. But I’m much more open in my parameters of what I consider valuable in an intimate partner, and this now compared to that then, this is better for me. I don’t want to HAVE to partner for any reason except my own desire, I have no plotline I need fulfilled for me. And now my own desire is unfettered from that, from his plotneed, and I am not trying to do anything else but know my own desire(s), not trying also to do everything else the way I was before, killing myself trying. I'm reverting back to my own language(s). What I value most is searching interior inventories (sharing them), wit sharp enough to carve into the world and look at its guts, lovemaking that is about itself about its object of desire about creating a source of energy that recharges stronger with each use. I don’t want to be anyone’s mere wife, label it and forget it. Fuck that. I want to be exactly what is on his ass, the only one of me, called by my own name.