God, I’m in such a strange head space right now. Constant alternating emotions sparring head to head inside my brain, pummeling the contents with whatever emotionally damaging images my paranoid, delusional, denial plagued brain can conjure up. I say delusional for the simple fact that I might be certifiable to think that my relationship with Josh will ever be different. I realized the last time he cheated on me was at the very end of January or the very beginning of February, and he confirmed this. I looked back at texts one weekend when he didn’t come home when he said he would then finally showed up at 4am. I was lividly angry, I had an intuition that I thought was just my paranoia at the time. This was right when Jashar was sick and I was getting zero sleep. Right before I got sick and then went to the hospital, because I couldn’t breathe. I looked back at that entry and realized I had called Josh supportive during this time! That statement makes me feel fucking sick. Yeah he was definitely supporting….supporting his cock in some strange girl’s pussy….Gee babe, thanks for bringing it down a notch and not breaking anything or screaming at my spit covered face with your hands wrapped around my throat while Jashar and I were recovering from bronchitis. Always the considerate gentleman.

He told me another secret he had been keeping. He slept with this girl named Molly not even a month after Jashar was born. I remember seeing a text conversation from her and saving a screenshot the same time I saw this other girl Christina’s. It was a night after he worked at Big City, and it was the way he spoke to me when he came home. So cruel, so brutal, out of nowhere. I just had a feeling. It was the first time I had ever looked in his phone, and I realized in that moment it was something I should have done a long time ago. Little did I know when I approached Josh emotionally devastated about what I saw -him telling her how attractive he thought she was and a plan for him to go over to this Christina’s house and smoke a blunt that never ended up happening because of my interception- I was worried about the wrong girl. The stitches that had sewn up my poor battered vagina hadn’t even dissolved yet. I hadn’t even healed physically let alone emotionally wrapped my head around this entirely new experience of having a baby; caring for a new soul. There was a large part of me that felt like I was doing it alone, and I apparently was. I could barely do anything except walk across my apartment. I wasn’t even suppose to drive. Yet he made the conscious decision to drive my car complete with accompanying infant car seat to this girl’s house and fuck her unprotected and cum on her bed. That’s what he told me. I had started this conversation, because we have been having many, posing the question of how would you feel if it was me? Can you imagine..” and he cut me off saying he has imagined it way more than he’d like. And then I cut him off saying, “Yeah but this is different, because it’s real. You actually did it and kept doing it. What if it was me giving six different men YOUR blow job? Having six different men inside of me and then coming home to you?” Then I asked him, “How did you cum?”

He said he didn’t.  He didn’t cum. I said, “Even with Molly?” and that’s when he told me he did with her and he came on her bed. I had to bite my tongue, because I wanted to know more, I wanted to know every detail of how he fucked her, how he made her scream, how much she enjoyed his dick. I wanted to know, and I still do. I feel entitled to it. I want to know what they talked about and what they did when they hung out. He says they only had sex once, but I know by the text I read that they hung out a few times. So maybe that was him putting in work to seal the deal. He had an ample amount of time to think about how much he wanted to fuck her. I was imprisoned in our home, and he was out “dating” this girl to fuck. Impressing her, probably spending money on her, being affection. All things he was taking away from me. I want to call her. I want to talk to her. How do I do this? Get her to meet me without freaking her out. I have no animosity toward her, I just want to know. I want to see her, hear it all from her lips. Get a feeling for what it was about her that made Josh commit this act in my absolutely most vulnerable time. I had just had our fucking baby! There aren’t many more selfish times that I can think of to be unfaithful to the woman you supposedly love. I need to know! I need to know every possible thing or I’m going to go crazy. I told him he needs to understand that I am not OK with this. Just because I am trying to work through it all. But I need to know every last detail in order to attempt to try to be OK with all of this inside my own head. I’ve been smoking some pot just to keep my brain numb to all of this pain. To “be OK” on the outside with all of this bullshit that is now invading my head space. To stop the constant sexual imaginings from pouring through my thoughts. The images of him pulling up to some girl’s house. Of him walking with some girl to her hotel room and them making out as she slides the key into open door slot. Of him ripping their clothes of and then his, standing there naked and strong with his cock standing up like a fucking rocket. Images of him jack hammer fucking these women to release his anger and guilt and attempt to feel excitement and pleasure and whatever else bullshit selfish reasoning he had for doing this in the first place. I need to know so I can stop making all of this up on my own and hopefully find a way to move on.

When he said he couldn’t cum, do you know it actually made me feel better? I felt this moment of hope! How sad is that! Then when he told me he did with Molly, I started obsessing over her and the details of whatever their “relationship” was. I know it wasn’t much of anything, but he put in the effort. He laid the ground work to seal that deal. It was there. He hung out with her more than once and planned and thought about fucking her. All I can see in my head is how he fucked her like he wanted her. He gave her all that passion that he didn’t want to give and couldn’t give to me. I became increasingly paranoid and started randomly checking his phone. Every time I snooped, I would see at least one new girl’s name and stupidly believe they were all friends, or “business prospects”. It was like he was obsessed with getting girl’s numbers. And if that’s what I saw I can’t imagine all the bullshit he erased. I would pay to see all the communication he’s ever erased on his phone. I asked him if all of this was happening the entire course of our relationship or just after Jashar was born. And he told me it started after Jashar’s birth. Me being imprisoned inside our tiny apartment with a crying baby was apparently like a free pass to take the vehicle we share registered under my name and be single again. And not just single, he was talking and possibly fucking multiple women at once. It seems like I unwillingly gave him a free pass to be a slut. How lucky for me. I should consider going to the casino with the type of odds I create for myself.

Last night he started telling me things that I could do in order to be sexy for him. That sentence pretty much says it all. He wasn’t being mean about it, but I was offended. This is barely the first time he’s done this either. If you are attracted to me and you are in love with me, EVERYTHING I do you should consider sexy. You should think I’m sexy when I’m not even trying. I shouldn’t have to try. Then when I do try, it’s bonus sexy. He hates my hair in buns. But I love my buns! He thinks they make me look frumpy. It’s obvious to me there’s much more behind his beggings for forgiveness and his professions of affection. He’s either not being entirely truthful with me or with himself. I am me. I should be with a man that believes that “me” to always be sexy no matter what I’m wearing or how my hair looks. I keep my hair in a bun, because it’s freakin hot in Florida, I have a toddler who constantly pulls my hair out, and more importantly I love the waves it creates when I do let it down. It’s effortless styling, and to a mom that is very important. I love the “beach hair” look and I have that naturally. I’ve thought about taking some lessons on make-up recently. I’ve never worn any, I am clueless. I made an appointment to get my hair done next week. But it all bugs me. It stresses me out, and it makes me feel pressured. I don’t fucking like it. He went to American Social earlier and had a couple of their over priced beers and then Rocco’s and then he went to Blondie’s later and met his friend Josh when he had just said the day before that he wasn’t going to go back there.. And when he said all of those things to me later, the first thing I thought was he must have seen a lot attractive women while he was out then come home to me only to feel disappointment. He must have seen women he wished he could fuck.  That must have been what spawned his, “this is how you can be attractive to me” conversation. His “I need you to do this and be this” conversation. “I need you to be strong. I need you to be sexy.” So apparently you’re telling me I’m not that to you already?

I’m supposed to be trying to rid myself of paranoia when it comes to Josh; find mental peace and a new beginning. But if he’s only going to continue to say and do things to create more of it then I don’t know how healthy of a future this is for me.