False Hope

I need to stop thinking that things are going to work out. I've always said that if you expect nothing, then you'll be pleasantly surprised when something good happens. Maybe not a fun way to live, but a good defense against hurt. But I keep crawling out on that limb of late and getting slapped down. Making love with a drunk girl doesn't mean that the marriage is working out.

Today, I made a point of apologizing for misreading her signals in bed Saturday night. She started to cry. After coming home late, she took my bedtime actions as an indication that I had indeed been "hooking up" with someone. She's broken down and sobbed twice now in twenty-four hours. She keeps saying that she's afraid that she has made a grave mistake in trying to trust me again. She calls it misplaced trust. I'm calling my naive beliefs misplaced hope.

She asked today what my idea of a compromise would be. I thought for a long while. Do I start out big, knowing I'll get haggled down? Or do I tell her my honest best offer? I opted for the latter. I want to have bare legs from the first weekend in November thru the first weekend of March. That gives me five support meetings, where I can dress in the fashion that I really want to, in just over four months. This gives her eight months of hairy me. I think this is a generous offer.

But no, it is all about the shaved legs. She just finds it completely intolerable. I asked what her idea of a compromise is. She didn't know. Or she didn't want to say. She's going back to her therapist Tuesday, so I'm sure she'll either change the locks while I'm at work, or throw away all my Leslie things. Okay, maybe not, but I refuse to count on something good happening. I'm going to be ready for a sucker punch. It hurts too much to expect this to get better.