I don’t know how I expected last week to go but this was…actually what I was hoping. Not what I was thinking would happen but what I was hoping for. He’s back.
As of last night, James has moved most of his things back home. He still has a locker at work but he’s slept the last three nights in our bed and that makes me feel…very happy. To be honest, I’m ecstatic but worried.
I’ve spent 21 years of my life learning to be independent and overly cautious in my relationships. And I got really good at it. 8 years ago I met James and a year later we were married. I started dating him because it was convenient. Here was someone who didn’t have to be told my secret, who loved me and protected me. Yes, by the time he proposed I loved and protected him but it didn’t start out that way. It was easy to use him when it came to my other life: to get me information, to cover my tracks. It didn’t hurt me at all.
But some time in the last 7 years of marriage, our relationship changed. I reread my post from last week and I realized how codependent I’ve become. It shouldn’t be like this. In the old days I would have seen it as a sign of weakness – and in some ways it is – but I just don’t care.
I’ve spoken about my contention with the notion that serial killers need to be lone wolves. I think it makes them better killers to have families and secrets. It makes them careful.
At least it’s supposed to.
I don’t know what I expected out of this update. I love my husband and I’m so glad that he’s back home and that he’s agreed to work through our problems together instead of apart. Apparently my pride is getting in the way of realizing how lucky I am. I have a husband, and a son, and I haven’t been arrested for serial murder in 22 years.
What more could a girl ask for?
You know what would be a great way to get back to the way we were?
Letting James pick out the next victim. My loyal readers know how much foreplay that is for us. Hopefully it'll be an opportunity for us to work through things. If not, someone will die and then we'll have sex on kitchen floor.
Who needs couple’s therapy when you can just hang out in a dark, deserted alley waiting for some poor unfortunate soul to stumble in to your trap?
I know what I’m doing this weekend.
As always, dear readers,