The Big pet peeve is a double edged sword.  I want Danielle to find her happiness but the fact that it took us on a four and a half year journey to end up in the shitter anyway, rubs me the wrong way.  Yes, Emily was able to get older and we had a 95% happy marriage (at least for me) for 4 years while Danielle was attempting to figure it out.  However, I was walking on eggshells during this time.  I was trying to figure out things I could do to make everything better constantly when all of this had very little to do with me.  I can fix anger issues.  I can be less dismissive. I could listen better.  I can compromise and communicate with the best of them.  But I can’t fix gay, nor would I want to. 

But tell me, Danielle.  What do you want me to do?  But most importantly, what do you want to do?   Like I mentioned earlier, she had an out two years ago and she didn’t take it because she was still confused about what she wanted.  So now, after nearly three more years of waiting do you want to be…

Gay?

Straight?

Bisexual?

Asexual?

Monogamous marriage?

Non-Monogamous marriage?

Sexual with me?

Non-sexual with me?

Romantic love?

Non-romantic love?

Still attracted to me?

Not still attracted to me?

Do you want me to be your lover?

Do you want me to be your friend?

Do you want me to be your husband?

In limbo for the rest of our relationship while Eric walks on eggshells and questions himself constantly until his stress level rises to unsustainable heights and he eventually dies while playing racquetball in the gym with Roy who tries to revive him with CPR, but is unsuccessful because besides Eric’s body giving out, his soul has been crushed so much it’s almost easier for Eric to die on the racquetball court at LA Fitness than it is to slowly die a million deaths waiting for you to decide whether you want to keep the relationship going or not?

All of the above?

None of the above?

Some of the above?

But maybe Danielle doesn’t have to decide.  This is her decision and how much I want her to give me some clarity, it may never come and I have to accept that.  So why did our marriage die?  Maybe our marriage just ran it’s course.  Maybe it was just done.  That’s a possibility as well.  But if it did, that’s okay.  But here’s the thing, you have to let me know.  If you truly care about me.  You have to rip the band-aid and let me know and not let me linger.   

When you stopped seeing Morgan and didn’t attempt to pursue anyone else, you know what that indicates to me?  To me, that means that you’re potentially over the bisexual thing and want to become monogamous again.  When we have amazing sex and romance in Mexico for my 50^th, to me that means that maybe you’ve gotten that spark again.  This is what my perception is.  You have to know after all this time of accepting the limbo of our relationship that this is where my mindset was.  To keep me hanging on was deceptive, self-serving, and is what disappoints me the most to this day. 

All I wanted to know was what you wanted so I can base my decision on that.  If there’s hope, I’m staying.  These signs of hope that you gave me made me want to stay.  As always, you’re steering the boat, you’re running the show, you’re calling the shots, you have the power and I’m in limbo, trying to make the best of it.  Not all of the decisions are the best ones, but it’s self-preservation at this point.

Looking back, all of this waiting was just a way for you to get enough time to make your decision.  You are saying you were confused, but maybe you just didn’t want to pull the trigger because maybe you were just dragging this on because you felt guilty or because I was safe.  I was your snuggle buddy.  I was your living and breathing security blanket.  I was your Cozy*.   You can drag me along because you knew I wanted to help you with your decision and apparently, I did.  I’m letting you guide my path because I have tied myself to you.  I took the leap and risk to stay with you for the past four and a half years which helped you to take the time you needed to make your decision.  But what helped you did not help me.  

*The name of my blanket as a kid that I still have.  Don’t mock.