Speaking Two Languages

He first left me July 11, 2013.  I begged him to come home.  I negotiated him back.  I got myself into therapy for starters.  His reasons for not wanting to come back included him enjoying having time during the week.  He also liked having his own space.  I told him he could have the weeknights to do as he wished but I wanted him to sleep in our bed and be part of the family on weekends.  I told him to take any room in the house: I would clear it out.  He chose one of the parlors for his office.  He also got Middle Son’s room as a workout room, we put Middle Son in with Littlest.  He wanted more control of the budget so I promised to set up monthly meetings for us both.  He asked me to open my own checking account so we could separate finances.  I gave him what he wanted.  In hindsight, I think I always gave him what he wanted because it was easier than the guilt and emotional backlash I would get for not giving in.  I took the easy way out.

For Christmas 2013, one of the gifts he got me was The Five Love Languages book.  He asked that I read it so I could give him the love he needs.  He said he would read it after me so he could reciprocate.  He was honest and said he doubted I would read it and was even more doubtful I would follow through with what I learned. 

I read the book in about two days.  I learned my “languages” are gifts and acts of services, and quality time.  I explained to him that I feel his time is a gift and service to me.  I don’t need actual gifts.  I guessed his “language” would be words of affirmation and physical touch.  I was right.

I asked for feedback from him about how I did.  I actively gave him feedback as well.  He was able to tell me he appreciated the gratitude I gave him but I wasn’t doing the affirmation correctly.  He couldn’t give me actual direction though.  I tried to be more available sexually as that was the physical touch he wanted.  It wasn’t enough.

While I felt love from him, he was never able to feel the love I was giving.  After about two weeks of trying this new way of showing love, he asked (not the first time) if we could open the marriage.  He asked me to point out men I thought were attractive.  He would talk about other men when we were having sex.  He would talk about him and other women.  I wasn’t totally on board but I could tell he really wanted to do this.  I finally agreed and by the end of January we had an open marriage because I had come to the realization that he had already given up and was preparing to leave me or this was the last chance I had to save my marriage.  

He said he wanted to open the marriage as a gift to me.  He said he felt guilty that I hadn’t got much of a dating life as a young person.  He thought me missing out was why I was so closed off to him intimately.  He wanted me to experience being with other men both emotionally and physically.  He wanted me to be comfortable with them so I would, in turn, be comfortable with him.

I told him my goal for the arrangement.  I wanted to feel loved, and valued.  I did not want to bounce from one person to another.  I wanted to form a meaningful relationship.  He was fine with that. 

He let me know his goal, “I want to stick my penis in all the vaginas.”  It should have been a huge red flag to us both that our intentions for opening the marriage were so drastically different. 

Prior to taking action, I asked him, in and out of therapy, how opening our marriage would get him the love and attention and respect he was wanting.  He never had a clear answer. 

Throughout our time in therapy, all the way back to July 2013, when he first left me, he insisted that I did not respect him and it was my responsibility to make him feel respect.  He made me responsible for his feelings, and I, ignorantly, took on that impossible task.