Coffee?

So last night she had a work dinner that she says she was looking forward to all week. A chance to be with me she tells me (after the brawl), it was a night out with my honey she said....after we had a good fight.

What caused the fight? About 10 minutes after I got there, she turns to me and says, "coffee?" I'm sitting there like, its 6 o'clock at night, I don't want any damn coffee. So I look at her with a puzzled look on my face for a few seconds and she says, do you mind if I go out for coffee with someone tomorrow.

So the night you would soon say was supposed to be for you and I, became the forum that you decided to ask me if you could go out on a date? But apparently they aren't dates. They are vetting. Vetting of future fuck buddies.

Once again, I'm the asshole because I got bent out of shape. So here I sit the next morning, its 9am and she's upstairs getting ready for whatever the fuck shes gonna be doing here shortly and once again its me who is being the jerk off. Its me who is once again being told that my feelings are wrong. And if my feelings aren't wrong the way I express them is. I make her feel bad, so I need to stop reacting so strongly. I make her uncomfortable so I need to choose to react in a more healthy manner. Anger doesn't solve anything so I shouldn't be angry.

Let me give you my opinion. The whole you have a choice as to how you feel about things argument is stupid. You don't have a lot of choice about how you feel about something. Its feelings, they come and they go. Its what they do. You have them, you deal with them and you move on.

The feelings are what they are, your reaction to them is what you can control. Unfortunately for her I choose not to control them the way that she wants. Do I care? Yeah, I do, I wouldn't be writing this otherwise. I'd be writing a blog about the joys of divorce. Which this may morph into, ya never know!

So she'll be coming down the stairs shortly, dressed sexily, but ever so appropriately as she heads off to a coffee shop to offer herself to another man and decide whether or not they'll become fuck buddies. I'm supposed to react positively to this?

She wants this to be a fun time for both of us. She wants us to look back on this when we're old and see all the fun we had while we still could. Maybe she's right and I really am an asshole. Unfortunately, I don't really think so. So where do I go from here? I suppose I can get through a date or dates. But I certainly hope this new therapist is a miracle worker, because I can only imagine the reaction I'm going to have when my lovely wife returns home reeking of sex, with booze on her breath and bruises on her ass...