Upstairs Downstairs...
For days, weeks, months and even years, my prevailing thoughts were as to why my marriage had failed. What had I done wrong? Why did I not pick up on when my wife had strayed, which clearly had been ongoing for many months?
In honesty, I made attempts to talk it through with her, seeing if there was any hope. Her mind was set and she was sure this guy, Mr “Porsche”, would be telling his wife everything and they (my wife and he) would be a couple.
Having dug under the surface, I had, in a very short time, found that this guy had had these “whirlwinds” with several women over a 4 or 5-year. I couldn’t tell if his wife was kind of aware of his infidelity or that he was really good at lies and deceit in hiding his affairs.
The one thing I did find was that his business affairs had been signed over to his wife a few years previous…perhaps she had caught him out at some point and their reconciliation was for her to take on the financial side of their lives…pure conjecture I may add, but hey.
And so the months rolled on, her disappearing and living the high life, days away where I rattled around in my self-allocated downstairs area and on her return she would scuttle off to her upstairs area…thank goodness for large Victorian houses eh?
There were occasions when we spoke and I pointed out that Mr Porsche, would likely let her down, she insisted not but “at the moment he couldn’t make the break because of an issue with his daughter’s mental state”…hmmmm.
This pattern of tragedy cropping up in his life and negating his ability to leave his wife went on for…years…I know, and still, we still occupied the same “home”.
I had a thought that if I made her jealous of me having a relationship with another woman that it may bring her too her senses. In a desperate attempt to change things I made friends with a woman, a totally platonic friendship but someone I could talk to and who was not judging of my situation.
My wife response?
“Enjoy!”
So, then I made up a new woman in my life, totally fictious who lived in Manchester and went off to Manchester to meet her, staying for a couple of days. OK, so I wasn’t actually meeting anyone, but the break away was nice…being able to be totally out of the awkward zone helped me start to think about what my future would look like.
Again, my wife, did not respond in any way that my activity was earth shattering or could change our situation.
That said, I started to think about the house and my living style, sofa surfing in my own home wasn’t ideal. So, I told her I was selling up.
She thought this was a geat idea…because she could see pound signs lol.
However, the house needed some major works doing and the property market was in a decline and I didn’t have the finances to do the much needed works.
In desperation I found one of those “we’ll buy any house” type companies and sold it for less than I had bought it for some 12 years earlier…in fact I ended with a £30k debt to ride.
I had found a nice 2 bedroomed terraced house in a reasonably desireable area of the city to rent. As I saw it, she would urge Mr Porsche into action and would leave…
“What am I supposed to do? There’s no money from the house…and where do I live?” She questioned.
“Look, you are so sure Mark is leaving his wife and that you two are a couple…work it out with him”
“He is sorting it out next month…”
“OK, here’s the deal. I have paid the mortgage over all the years we had the house…the new place is a rental and I will be paying the rent on that and this is going to be MY home…I will allow you a month residing there, providing you at least buy some groceries for the period…and the you’re GONE!”
“Oh…yes, of course”
Nothing phased her and still the dream of her new life with him in York was a reality…in her head.
And so…a month passed, in the new house…and then another….and then another.
I guess I was a mug in many ways and for what was many years overall…but it all became too much…
“Right time for you to leave!”
She visibly shook and the waterworks started.
“I cant…he hasn’t sorted it…his daughter…”
“I can not live like this any longer and you should not impose on my generosity like this…”
“Just another month…please”
“Tell you what…I know and you probably know deep down, he ain’t ever going to leave his financial cocoon…so, you take on the house and I will find somewhere else!”
“I cant afford it…I only work part time now…you cant do it…it’s your rental agreement…”
“We shall see”
That afternoon I went to the property management company that looked after the rental. I appraised them of the situation and said I was leaving, a months notice and that the bond I had laid down could serve as another month or so for my wife to remain in situ. They were, very understanding and did the relevant paperwork.
I spent the next 2 weeks hunting for yet another place to live and fell upon a decent flat in what was regarded as a decent area.
“Right…I am off! It’s all yours…I have sorted it with the property management company and you likely have a month to six weeks to work out how to live here”
“But you cant do that…it’s in your name! I cant afford it…”
“It’s effectively been put into your name and I have passed the bond to them to pay the next months rent…then it’s down to you whether you want to be evicted or not…bye!”
And that, pretty much, was that. I walked off into the “sunset” with a small amount of belongings and to my new unfurnished flat.
Time to reset my life.
Until Next Time
Next Time: What’s in a Name?
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Jeez Louise! What a “fun” mess. Guess she saw your “other women” as validation of her choices, eh?