Her.

Ok, so today is H and that is Her.

Her the wife, me. The her that loved him imperfectly perfectly, bound in covenant and for the long haul. The her that stood beside him through the escapades of younger days: drinking too much. Sneaking around with old friends and pot. Setting up some private bank accounts to spend money without her knowing. The her that kept believing better days were coming and that better days were here and meanwhile bore him babies and kept the house and started a business and knew that one day we would have time together that was about her. The her that held the bucket for him to pee in when he’d had surgery and bought his clothes and floated the money when there wasn’t any and made sure there were presents under the tree for the children from him. The her that listened to stories about things she didn’t care about involving people she didn’t know doing things she couldn’t imagine. The her that always seemed to want to talk at the wrong time…either he was tired or he was getting ready to do something or he had to get to work early…and her waited. The her that believed everything was really okay and told herself all the good and the bad really wasn’t very bad and reminded herself how blessed she was. The her that didn’t care about emerald rings or diamond earrings or houses on the river or expensive trips, but yearned for being desired and cherished and valued. Her the wife, me.

family

Her the mistresses. Them. The hers that saw him as being able to provide them with something they were lacking and beckoned him to join them in play. The hers that were willing to meet in secret, to be a secret, to live in the shadows. The hers that sent texts and emails and cryptic notes that were erased and destroyed. The hers that helped him believe the real her wasn’t able to see how really great he was and the hers helped him believe they were the road to happy. The hers that gave him an outlet of fantasy and moments of sex and words of allure and a false road to freedom. The hers that lied to their friends and their families and their bosses and to him and to themselves. The hers that began pretending it was all for fun but quickly declared they were real and wanted more and then the hers wanted to know when he would give them more. The hers that were okay being part of the plotting and creating destruction and pain and devastation and believing that there was good anywhere in that plan. Her, them, the mistresses.

mistress

Her the honorable. The her that served HUSBAND while out of town, with kindness and engagement. The her that brought him beer and food and wiped the table. The her that the other men encouraged HUSBAND to approach because the her seemed to think he was interesting. The her that looked up when HUSBAND came over, and when the her heard his question “So what time do you get off?” the her that lifted up her left hand and pointed at her fourth finger. The her that responded to HUSBAND’s puzzled look and responded “You’re married. I don’t do married.” The her that the real her holds in high esteem, honors.

honorable

H is for the hers in my journey.

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23 thoughts on “Her.

  1. I’m pretty sure the only her I ever knew who held up her left hand and pointed to her fourth finger….was me….but for all the other ones out there….my highest regard.
    The other slutty hers can go fuck themselves.

    Liked by 5 people

  2. I’m grateful to for the honorable Her, if only I had the wisdom, integrity and fortitude at the time to realize it. It should have been a priceless message to the core of who I am. Instead I just tossed it aside like I did my wife, my family and my God. I love you Her, the wife. Your grace (and His) has led me from a very dark place.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I love Honrable Her, that’s the standard all women should hold…that’s a woman who looks out for all women! And the Her, that is You, she always should have been the only Her that ever mattered. I’m so happy she matters now and that her time is here and now. As always SH your words are a balm!!!❤️

    Liked by 4 people

    1. Oh Kaye…thank you. Yes-the Honorable Her who kept the girl-code…the human-code. It is how we should all be. And for any who haven’t been that way – they could start NOW. HUGS.

      Like

  4. I have been the honorable Her and he didn’t care. You will only be able to respond back to me on here. I’m right in the midst of the heartbreak of all of this. Of course, he’s denied it all but the lies are just to much.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I’ve been approached by married men also……and it wasn’t my ring finger I held up. Most sluts have magnet vaginas that automatically attach to the man’s wedding band. Great post SS.

    Liked by 3 people

  6. Love this. It is comforting to know that there are Honorable Hers out there, I hope not few and far in between. I am one, and am proud to belong to this group. It is a shocker though the he was given such an exclamation point by the Lord, and he just walked by and onto the dark things. I know and am glad you guys are at a better place now, but still, it is a shocker.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Again, you touch me. Watching him figure out the different hers through counseling was so difficult. The Aha moments when he realized they really weren’t there to help him…and that I truly had been…devasting. I’m so glad that your husband now sees the difference! Looking forward to the next letter. Perhaps I should do this too. -Jules

    Liked by 1 person

  8. I love this. I’m hardly a perfect “her” but I’ve been approached by married men, not in life but online, and turned them down because despite that blip in my past, I think marriage is sacred and I wouldn’t ever consider looking at a married man in that way, much less engage in anything questionable with him. Sending love.

    Liked by 1 person

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