Ding Dong, the gun is gone! My husband took me to the gun shop where he originally purchased his big handgun last week. I watched him receive a wad of cash after he turned it over to the manager. After our last reconciliation he volunteered, without my request, to put his firearm up for consignment. I was relieved. I am relieved that it is no longer riding illegally with him in his SUV. I am happy that I’m free of concern. He can’t bring it into our house and ever forget it, again. He can’t shoot himself in a moment of despair--or me or anyone else during a fit of rage.
My husband explained that he was deeply moved when he read my entries about his behavior. I thought he would be furious with me for my honesty. I thought he would explode and possibly attack me verbally and physically if he ever found my blog. I thought that it would destroy our relationship for good. Those things didn’t happen. He told me that he “actually cried” as he read my posts. He saw himself the way I saw him for the first time. He said that he also learned that I’m a damn good writer.
He has made numerous small and meaningful improvements lately, which have changed the whole feeling in our household. He is clean and well-groomed and extremely affectionate. Whenever his beard gets a little rough, I yell and giggle, “No whiskering! No whiskering!” as he kisses me all over. That is usually enough to remind him that it’s time to shave again.
He is trying to be more patient and helpful. He has gone grocery shopping with me, helped me cook meals and even folded some laundry. He explained that he is trying to be normal, which made me laugh. He pauses during these activities to wrap his long arms around me. I call him Red Monster, like the guy (Gossamer) from Bugs Bunny. Red Monster can be frustrating sometimes if I’m trying to get something done because he squeezes too tight and he won’t let go of me. I usually try to get out by prying his fat, hairy thumbs apart, but I have to be careful because his knuckles are dangerous.
He is making a valiant effort toward winning my affection and trust. It is working. Opening car doors and holding hands and offering support and listening and conversing and sharing are all new activities that are changing our relationship into something romantic, sweet and comfortable. We are sleeping next to each other in our extended king. I don’t think the sofa misses him, but I’m going to have to lock him out if he continues to wake me up at 5:00 in the morning everyday. I’d prefer to be sniffed, petted, licked and humped after 6:00.
Our relationship is beginning to encompass more than coupled body parts. We’ve always shared intense passion for each other, but now we’re sharing something more special. We’re becoming friends who f***, which is much hotter than I had ever imagined--and exactly what I have always wanted.