When the well runneth dry…

One of the questions I posed to my estranged husband was, quite simply, why he didn’t miss his water ’til his well ran dry.

It’s been a classic habit of his over the years, his never seeming to notice anything I do until I’m no longer doing it.

And as much as I hate to admit it, it’s clear that at some point he figured he was the only man who could ever be interested in me, or could give me what he was giving. Then he realized that wasn’t the case and became threatened. My dilemma now is trying to separate his wanting to be back with me with his not wanting me to be anywhere, with anyone, else.

I find that to be the case with a lot of men. They are possessive and protective of what they have at home, but doing nothing to nurture and preserve it.

One of the questions I’m continuously asking during our recent exchanges is: How do you plan to keep all this going – the attentiveness, the passion, the adoration?

All he can tell me is that he will.

And he might for a while. That is until he becomes comfortable again.

I had dinner out last night and I almost ordered another meal to bring to him, but I didn’t. It would have been too much, too soon and there would have been no lesson to be learned there. Only that he’s still deserving of these things when he’s done much of nothing to receive it and I just can’t go down that road quite yet.

I’m a loving, giving person by nature and I asked for next to nothing in return. I don’t want to change this about myself, but sometimes I wonder what the results would be if I were more selfish and bitchy.

Hmmm.

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