'Win me over!'

We're still together. For our daughter's sake. I'm growing colder and more indifferent - which feels good 0- towards her by the week, by every date she secretl goes to.

Only now and then, a wave of emotions attacks me. Sometimes I give in.

Like on the day when she spent a lot of the day at home. I was there too, sending emails to do with my new venture. She looked beautiful and sweet. Good memories came back: the secondary school days, our first holidays together, her summery scent and more and more; guilty memories came back too: how could walk away from her without a word, how I left her in the rain with a cruel word, how I hit her, how I was stone-cold when she cried in front of me. I realised that whatever she does to me now pales into insignificance compared how I was killing her youthful love to me all those years ago. And I forgave her and I loved her again.

I held her in my arms, 'Whatever you do, I'm mad about you!'.

'Imagine I'm free now. Win me over!'

For a second I sense the potential excitement. Then I remember a text she sent me over Christmas. About her heart beating like mad at the thought of the old times. About her longing flying to all corners of the world... and another one I found a few days later in her mobile. To him. Saying the same.

I smile and leave the kitchen where - for fun - I ended on my knees before her.

Next day I have a feeling that she's texting him, meeting him and making love to him just as before. No proof but a feeling that on that front what changes is another of her private re-interpretations that she thinks are her private thing, and she doesn't owe it to anyone, even those involved, to share them. So he carries on thinking she loves him like crazy, and she loves him like crazy when she's with him. Only when she's away from him, her love-thoughts walk their own secret paths.

And something snaps inside me. Again. I go to her room. 'You bitch! How dare you play with me like that!'. I leave. And she hates me more than ever. I will never play her game. I wish she would never offer me to play it. All I want for us from this affair is truth. I'd rather meet her once a year in truth than have her every day in this painful fiction.

Long time, no hear

You may have been wondering what's going on.

Have they made up? Has he snapped and stabbed her and her lover? Or has he packed a suitcase and left for the Brazilian interior, where internet cafes are scarce?

No, none of the above. Something much less exciting - unpaid bills. I've been off-line for those few weeks. The good news is that the money to pay the bill was earned by my modest self. A week ago I started my new venture and - apart from a bottle or two of good wine - I was able to pay a couple of bills and look my ex-wife straight in the eye, financial-wise, that is; and just for five minutes. My income over the last few months has been close to nil, I'm afraid. Not that I have wasted all the time.

I've been working on a few ideas, out of which at least one can become a long-term venture for me.

Anyway, a lot of updates are coming your way soon:

1. She challenges me to 'win her over'
2. I go mad
2. I nearly lose everything, family-wise
3. She celebrates St Valentine's Day - for an hour with him, myself - waiting for an hour for her to do something planned all day
4. She moves out for a week
5. I call her mother
6. His birthday (she puts on a beautiful, sexy dress, I drink 4 beers and a bottle of good Bordeaux, to survive it)
7. Summary of our dozen or so 'contracts', none of which respected.

The spring is close, all is very dynamic, keep your fingeres crossed (though I don't know for what outcome).

Write to you soon.

Heaven?

Emmylou Harris sings The Rose of Cimarron. I cry.

With me are the truth, wisdom, beauty and sadness of it all. The last one seamlessly turns into sweet peacefulness.

If you’re happy to be wise enough, you don't expect anything, nor jude; you are patient and have hope. At this moment, I don't, I am and I have.

What do I know about how I hurt her? About the days she pensively and lonely looked out of our window at the same church spire I am now? About how she longed for a smile, touch, gesture I never made?

In a way, we could be in heaven now: no wife, no husband, just love; it does not matter who it's directed to - we're brothers and sisters, after all.

A long time ago, when I found about her ‘verbal’ romance with an old colleague, she told me: ‘I was writing this (it was all via Skype and emails)to you really.’ I laughed at her.

But perhaps she was. Isn’t it the same qualities, regardless of person, that we treasure and seek in others and can’t live without: understanding, sensitivity, gentleness, compassion, admiration – because deep down we know we deserve it? The principle is the same, the details and circumstances change.

And the bodies - well, they are similar too (give or take an inch or two).

She's not mine afer all - I didn't create her. I met her when she was a beautiful, independent, intelligent young woman. And she chose me based on a promise, hope and a committment - none of which I kept fully.

So why be angry at her for what she should have done ages ago? Why not wish her all the best? She's given me so much, I should be nothing but grateful.

As to what I gave her - how can I be in a position to judge that?

I couldn't give her what made her happy. And I wasn't getting what I needed. I had acted as if I wanted to call it a day and she called it a day.

All the best, darling.