<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394</id><updated>2011-07-07T18:04:00.445-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Will She Be Back?</title><subtitle type='html'>It's been an over SIX year affair.  Not sure when it will end for good, but it restarted many times.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>317</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-5286077165486027170</id><published>2009-04-02T15:12:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T15:16:07.116-05:00</updated><title type='text'>She Wants To Meet Up</title><content type='html'>Sara emailed me from an account she set up temporarily.  Just said she can't hide it, can't resist it, then set a date and time.  It's a couple weeks from now so I'm certain she'll talk herself out of it.  Oh well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-5286077165486027170?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/5286077165486027170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=5286077165486027170' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/5286077165486027170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/5286077165486027170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2009/04/she-wants-to-meet-up.html' title='She Wants To Meet Up'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-2746320606909002009</id><published>2009-03-26T16:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T16:03:44.903-05:00</updated><title type='text'>She called me again today</title><content type='html'>This time not so good.  I tried to call her twice since we talked yesterday, but she wasn’t home.  The calls showed up as private calls and she was curious/concerned if they were from me.    I apologized and explained the reason I tried to reach her.   Truth be told, if she hadn’t called me yesterday, I would have called her sometime this week anyway.  Last week I had let pass a ‘special’ day in her/our life.  I know she was anxious and concerned I’d be trying to contact her.  I wanted to show her I was strong and I got through that day without any contact.   Afterwards I was concerned that she might have been crushed and that’s when I decided I’d call her later this week to assure her how much effort it took on my part to stay away.   Her call yesterday beat me to the punch.  Although she wanted to thank me, I knew it was more for self-assurance when she told me how bittersweet that was for her.    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Back to the reason why I tried to call her.  I realize that I can never assure her I’ll stay away forever, and wanted to suggest to her that she could ‘de-fuse’ the desire with a phone call once a month or so.   See, her number one concern is that I’ll call at the wrong time and her – always suspicious – husband will answer.*  And because of that she always gets nervous when the phone rings when he’s home during the day.   So if she initiates the call, that will never be a concern.**    I just felt that it would give her the ability to finally relax each time the phone rang.  It puts her totally in control.   Unfortunately for both of us, she has been miserable and irritable since we last talked.   Emotions she had hoped she had put in the past by moving on.   Clearly that’s not something I want her to go through just so I can relinquish control over our situation.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;As I acknowledged the pain I keep putting her through, and tried to reassure her that I will double my efforts to stay away, my voice became emotional.   So did hers as she spoke over the top of mine saying “I can’t do this anymore.  I can’t do this anymore”.    She then hung up on me.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;*I have always been prepared for that each time I’d call her with a fool-proof escape plan.  I have never needed to use that in almost 8 years so it still remains an option.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;** Please keep in mind that receiving one phone call a month is no where’s near something I find acceptable.   Just hours after her last call I was missing her so much that it hurt.  But it definitely is satisfying enough to last me several weeks.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-2746320606909002009?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/2746320606909002009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=2746320606909002009' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/2746320606909002009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/2746320606909002009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2009/03/she-called-me-again-today.html' title='She called me again today'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-378023534267767634</id><published>2009-03-24T16:21:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T16:30:40.763-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Talk about timing</title><content type='html'>Well, she has been gone for over 3 months.  Totally, that includes no sneaking peaks at emails either.   I think she's gone for good and that saddens me - obviously.   Last I spoke to her was early December and that was because I called her since she disappeared so suddenly a month earlier.  She said she feels she was finally done, and can resist emails as well.   As always she sounds so convincing, but history has shown otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote that this morning because I was finally believing she was gone for good.   Then she called me.   Less than an hour later.   Believe it or not, it was to thank me for not calling or trying to contact her for all this time.   Truthfully, I think it was to find out if I've forgotten about her.   Nothing has changed in her feelings for me - she thinks about me all the time.   But she is living guiltfree now and that is where she says she has found her strength to move on.  I asked her if she's happy now.  "No" was her reply.   But she has given up on there ever being a future for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't explain why, but I haven't.  yet.    But I'll just hang back and wait for that next phone call - whenever, or if ever, there will be one.    I miss her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-378023534267767634?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/378023534267767634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=378023534267767634' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/378023534267767634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/378023534267767634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2009/03/talk-about-timing.html' title='Talk about timing'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-2750103458094200463</id><published>2008-10-25T08:42:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-25T08:56:06.749-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>Nothing new, she comes and goes.  About 2 months ago all email ties had been severed, yet that didn't keep her from coming back again.  :)  But she's holding strong and not allowing herself to see me.  However, two weeks ago I got a phone call asking I come see her that morning - she knew I was off work that day.  I don't know if it was a test, but I couldn't drop my plans, she was disappointed, and thats the last I heard from her.  At that time of the phone call, we had been talking/emailing almost daily for 3 weeks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-2750103458094200463?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/2750103458094200463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=2750103458094200463' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/2750103458094200463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/2750103458094200463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2008/10/update.html' title='Update'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-7608530922755906355</id><published>2008-07-19T08:32:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-19T08:36:32.848-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Came and Went.</title><content type='html'>Yes, she did come back again for a couple weeks, but then I went on vacation for 2 weeks and the day I got back she left for a week vacation.   She's been using that opportunity to leave again.  No surprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But our 'anniversary' is coming up in a couple weeks.  No matter how long she's been gone, she always has managed to surface during this time.  My expectations are obviously high that this year will be no different, but I am trying to prepare myself for the disappointment if she doesn't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-7608530922755906355?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/7608530922755906355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=7608530922755906355' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/7608530922755906355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/7608530922755906355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2008/07/came-and-went.html' title='Came and Went.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-9014968527397289791</id><published>2008-06-05T05:09:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T05:16:56.956-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And.....</title><content type='html'>....she's gone.  It took an incident with her babysitter  to get her back to sole searching.  Her babysitter made some bad decisions and is now paying the consequences for it.  Sara feels her bad decision(s) aren't much different and she should get back to doing the right thing and walk away.  It's very obvious from her last message to me that she is not 100% resolved to doing this - just that she feels she has too.  Really not much difference other than she may find herself back sooner without enough resolve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a wonderful few weeks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-9014968527397289791?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/9014968527397289791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=9014968527397289791' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/9014968527397289791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/9014968527397289791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2008/06/and.html' title='And.....'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-3370297368525980225</id><published>2008-05-25T08:34:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-25T08:36:33.734-05:00</updated><title type='text'>She's been back for awhile.</title><content type='html'>I've been meaning to post for some time now but just so damn busy.  She's very much back now - more than she has been for 3 or 4 years.  She even admitted her 'wall' hasn't been this down for that long as well.  We're constantly trying to find a time to see each other, but no luck yet.  Of course, past history should dictate that I shouldn't get my hopes up. I know it won't take much for the 'all or nothing' to kick back in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-3370297368525980225?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/3370297368525980225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=3370297368525980225' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/3370297368525980225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/3370297368525980225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2008/05/shes-been-back-for-awhile.html' title='She&apos;s been back for awhile.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-4175721001029014746</id><published>2008-03-15T17:50:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-15T18:05:19.514-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Please Call Me.</title><content type='html'>I got that tm yesterday.  I had opened the account since her birthday was coming in a few days and I knew she would be checking in.  Well, actually I had opened the account a couple weeks ago.  But she never did check in during that time - but she did yesterday.  From home.  But she had forgotten all she needed to do to clean up, and was needing my help.  lol.  Unfortunately some of things I was telling her to do weren't working, and she began to panic.  But eventually we got her all cleaned up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, whatever it takes just for the opportunity to talk to her.  We had a good talk - I was trying to keep it from going do the exact same road it always goes down.  I was pretty successful - for awhile anyway - learning a few things she never would have told me otherwise.  She tells me her sexlife is non-existant because of me - but that her emotional health is more important to her.  And that's why she makes the choice to not see me anymore.  At least not until I'm willing to take the next step, and that's where things got away from me.  Both of us became very emotional - as I listened to her telling me how used she feels.  That if I really loved her as much as I say I do, that I wouldn't think twice about taking the next step.  From here it went down the same road our conversation always winds up going.   But we did end up on a good note.  As we always do.  Helped by her children wandering into the room, making her realize exactly why we can't be together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, for me anyway, since she had so much trouble cleaning up, I'm guessing she won't be checking in from home anytime soon.  But I know we'll be in touch once more - it's her birthday in a couple days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-4175721001029014746?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/4175721001029014746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=4175721001029014746' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/4175721001029014746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/4175721001029014746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2008/03/please-call-me.html' title='Please Call Me.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-4836474914047376340</id><published>2008-02-24T09:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-24T09:24:54.305-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentine's Day</title><content type='html'>On V-day I opened up the account and left her an email.  Yes, she checked in from the library again and we exchanged a few emails that day, and again on Saturday.  But she's disappeared again so I've locked it up.  Her birthday is in less than a month - will probably do the same thing on that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, nothing new was said - just the same old reasons, but she did make clear once again that until I'm ready to take the next step, we will not be meeting up again.  Then adds "Of course you have to first convince me to take that next step".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-4836474914047376340?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/4836474914047376340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=4836474914047376340' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/4836474914047376340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/4836474914047376340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2008/02/valentines-day.html' title='Valentine&apos;s Day'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-2821574306235766286</id><published>2008-02-04T11:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T11:51:44.523-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Locked it up.</title><content type='html'>She hasn't checked back in since that one day at the library.  I locked it up and gonna try to stay away.  But she still has ways to get in touch with me - so if she does - I won't be ignoring her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-2821574306235766286?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/2821574306235766286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=2821574306235766286' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/2821574306235766286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/2821574306235766286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2008/02/locked-it-up.html' title='Locked it up.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-2226209884487987167</id><published>2008-01-17T16:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-17T16:28:42.319-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Library.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span class="539134118-17012008"&gt;Today was the first  time in well over a month since she's checked in.  And yes, it was from the  library.  And yesterday was the first time I left anything for her to  read.  My intention was for her to find nothing from me when/if she ever  did check back in.  I wanted her to feel that hurt, and make her realize  that I might not always be around when she comes back.  Well yesterday I  broke down.  I decided I didn't want her to hurt like that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-2226209884487987167?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/2226209884487987167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=2226209884487987167' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/2226209884487987167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/2226209884487987167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2008/01/library.html' title='The Library.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-8707931406374770522</id><published>2008-01-03T20:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-03T20:26:30.254-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Should Add.</title><content type='html'>I should mention that before she left she mentioned that her husband was replacing their computer around Christmas.  And that she hopes to use that opportunity and not 'taint' the new computer by logging into our email anymore.  She tried this a few years ago the last time they upgraded their computer.  After a month or so, she would start going to the library and check from there.  Soon after, she 'broke the seal' at home.  So....... it could be awhile, she does have amazing willpower when she can keep her mind to it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-8707931406374770522?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/8707931406374770522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=8707931406374770522' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/8707931406374770522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/8707931406374770522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2008/01/should-add.html' title='Should Add.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-5804273400428922765</id><published>2008-01-02T20:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-02T21:07:18.438-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Know Why.</title><content type='html'>I don't know why I'm surprised it's been almost two months since I last posted.  Since last post we've talked and emailed many times - and just when I thought she'd stick around - she vanished.  She hasn't checked in since mid-December.  Not even hiding - she's stayed away completely.  Of course this isn't the longest she's been away totally, but as always I feel this time is for good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the comments left on the last post asked how long its been since we've seen each other.  That was August '06, for about an hour.  Almost a year and half.  The time before that was almost a year.  During that period, we've arranged to meet about a handfull of times, with her backing out each time.  As she puts it - seeing me for a day just brings on months of depression afterwards.  Of course my suggestion was to not wait so long between times we meet up, but she didn't see my logic. lol.  Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss her terribly.  Most times I feel I can handle her being gone for good - that is, until I realize that means I will NEVER hold her again.  Then it hurts.  Real bad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-5804273400428922765?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/5804273400428922765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=5804273400428922765' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/5804273400428922765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/5804273400428922765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2008/01/dont-know-why.html' title='Don&apos;t Know Why.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-7577839193875378909</id><published>2007-11-12T10:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-12T11:04:18.321-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Again Its About Time</title><content type='html'>I'm long overdue posting again.  Sara has come and gone since I last wrote.  Once again, she was holding out hope I may change my mind.  Once again, I had hoped she had changed her mind as well.   I was disappointed she did not stick around longer.  We never even got around to catching up on things.  But I'm sure that was on purpose on her part.  With the holidays coming up, it'll be difficult not to send her anykind of a gift.  I feel she'll be disappointed if I don't, and I know she'll be upset (but not with me) if I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This used to be a rollercoaster, but now had become just a merry-go-round.  However its still just as difficult to jump off from.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-7577839193875378909?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/7577839193875378909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=7577839193875378909' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/7577839193875378909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/7577839193875378909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/11/again-its-about-time.html' title='Again Its About Time'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-4982073133094513593</id><published>2007-10-02T20:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-02T20:49:17.321-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Well, its about time.</title><content type='html'>It's about time I update this thing.  Things went well up to about two weeks before the scheduled meeting.  Just at the point I was almost convinced we might actually meet up, she disappeared.  But did leave an email a week later telling me not to expect her.  Since that time she has read the few emails I've left, but is still in hiding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know what happened, and should know better because she's used this tactic several times before.  Things were great, emailing, calling daily.  She gradually asked me more about family life which should have been a red flag.  Whenever she goes there, its to help build up her wall.  When she gets enough information, the wall is finished and she's gone.  I think its her way of judging if there still might be a chance I'd leave them.  When she doesn't get that feeling - she's done.  For now anyway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-4982073133094513593?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/4982073133094513593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=4982073133094513593' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/4982073133094513593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/4982073133094513593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/10/well-its-about-time.html' title='Well, its about time.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-8876941867329976524</id><published>2007-08-04T14:03:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-04T14:08:56.512-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Surfaced</title><content type='html'>Friday morning I got a tm asking for me to call her.  Nice talk, nothing different than usual.  She won't be at the festival this year.  Part of her 'trying hard to stay away' thing.  Later send me an email telling me that for a long time now I've been a huge disappointment for her.  And that its not me, its her.  Her expectations for me (or anyone) are unattainable.  And for this reason, she's been able to stay 'gone' for so long at times.  Ok, so I understand.   A few hours later she emails me a time and place to meet.  It's 6 weeks away.  Ok, so I don't understand.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I'm not holding my breath.  This means nothing to me.  Ok, maybe a day before I'll start to get excited.   lol.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-8876941867329976524?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/8876941867329976524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=8876941867329976524' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/8876941867329976524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/8876941867329976524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/08/surfaced.html' title='Surfaced'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-1089479973707394412</id><published>2007-07-26T21:28:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T21:33:06.333-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Anniversary</title><content type='html'>Sorry I haven't updated in awhile but that's usually because nothing has changed.  One day a week I leave Sara email, and she's usually in within a day reading it.   That's about it.  But next week is our anniversary of sorts, it's time for the festival we met at 6 years ago.  As is usually the case, something does happen between us around this time, but several months ago she had told me this year she won't be able to go.  We'll see if that's still the case.  Stay tuned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Otherwise I'm doing fine and have adjusted to what is reality between us and our seperate lives.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-1089479973707394412?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/1089479973707394412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=1089479973707394412' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/1089479973707394412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/1089479973707394412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/07/anniversary.html' title='Anniversary'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-612930933187047114</id><published>2007-06-25T06:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-25T06:42:20.220-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Unlocked</title><content type='html'>I unlocked the account last Friday and left her a message telling her I miss her and hoped she is doing okay.  I guess I was also wondering if she's already given up on me and has stopped checking the account to see if I'd be unlocking it.  Well, she was in on Sunday.  Guess we both know now we haven't forgotten about each other.   I'll wait till Friday before I lock it again, but I don't intend to leave anymore emails in the mean time.   I don't expect her to be saying anything either.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-612930933187047114?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/612930933187047114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=612930933187047114' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/612930933187047114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/612930933187047114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/06/unlocked.html' title='Unlocked'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-7779883478244941575</id><published>2007-05-29T09:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T09:09:34.362-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Locked.</title><content type='html'>I locked the account.  I wish I could tell you I had an epiphany and found my way through this.  But that's not the case.  It was apparent she didn't want me to lock it, so I did.  But I honestly don't expect this to shock her into coming out of hiding - which she can do simply by emailing me from another account.   Instead, I can only hope.  As I told her in my last email to her, I realized I don't need to hang around while I waited for her to come around.  She knows how to find me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-7779883478244941575?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/7779883478244941575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=7779883478244941575' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/7779883478244941575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/7779883478244941575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/05/locked.html' title='Locked.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-9041933179852046988</id><published>2007-05-22T09:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-22T10:15:49.660-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stirred Things Up.</title><content type='html'>Well, as is usually the case, when I post its because something has changed.  Sara's still had been checking in somewhat regularly  but continued to remain hidden.  I guess I felt I needed to see if I could provoke her into surfacing, but still stay inside the realm of email.  I left her an email telling  her I mailed her a sex toy.  I suggested she come up with a reason why she was getting an anal reaming tool from a plumbing company.  I thought it was funny.  I don't think she did. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She read that email (and another email that I had  attached pictures from my family vacation)  yesterday morning.   Nothing.  She re-opened the family picture email around noon.  A half hour later, she then re-read all the emails that were sitting in the inbox.  From oldest to newest - about 20 emails.  By this time I knew something was stirring in her.  Twenty minutes later I started getting hangup calls at work, and then on my cellphone.   Ok, now I didn't think what I did was so funny anymore.   I tried to call her, but discovered my phonecard had been used up.   It used to have $10 on it.  The phone calls stopped - obviously because she could not make anymore calls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then emailed her several emails,  letting her know it was just a joke, and how I realized how not funny it was.    The last one I sent was one promising that I'd lock things up for good.   A couple hours later, she read those emails.  Here's the strange part - she re-marked all of those emails as unread.  As if she had never been there.  WTF?  After realizing she'd been had, did she not want me locking things up?  Pretend yesterday never happened?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All is quiet today.  So far.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-9041933179852046988?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/9041933179852046988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=9041933179852046988' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/9041933179852046988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/9041933179852046988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/05/stirred-things-up.html' title='Stirred Things Up.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-3467960235637554896</id><published>2007-05-10T07:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-10T08:45:48.022-05:00</updated><title type='text'>No Show.</title><content type='html'>Guess I was stood up.  Then again, it can't be if she doesn't know that I knew that she knew about the meet-up.  Make sense?  Lol.   What was surpising to me was that she was into email as early as 7, and was in often through the morning.  Re-reading some of the emails.  Was she finding her resolve to stay away by doing that?   And just when did she decide she wasn't going to meet me?  That morning?  Does it really matter?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-3467960235637554896?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/3467960235637554896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=3467960235637554896' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/3467960235637554896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/3467960235637554896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/05/no-show.html' title='No Show.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-863908683028747100</id><published>2007-05-07T06:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-07T06:24:02.997-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wednesday.</title><content type='html'>Well, Sara has checked in a couple times last week.   It has been almost a month since the last time she was in.  Still hiding though, and that's what will make Wednesday an interesting day.  One of the emails I left was a time and place to meet up.   She read that one last Tuesday, giving her plenty of time to rearrange her schedule if necessary.  She knows I will be there regardless if I hear from her or not.  Question is, will she be there as well?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-863908683028747100?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/863908683028747100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=863908683028747100' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/863908683028747100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/863908683028747100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/05/wednesday.html' title='Wednesday.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-4583281857207826184</id><published>2007-05-01T07:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-01T07:43:42.271-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Might Be Getting Through.</title><content type='html'>Thanks to the recent comments on my previous post, I find myself seriously thinking about ending it and moving on.  Wherever that may lead.  And that is my concern.  I've been keeping my eyes open for a 'diversion' for awhile now.  I always felt that the best chance of leaving Sara alone is if I could keep my attention diverted elsewhere.    Moving on to another affair is obviously not the best direction.   Yet, that's where I feel I'm headedt.   So the end result will be no different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those who have been through this, what has kept you from starting up another affair?  Or is the fact that I want to, indicative of not being in the right place to put an end to this one?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-4583281857207826184?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/4583281857207826184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=4583281857207826184' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/4583281857207826184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/4583281857207826184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/05/just-might-be-getting-through.html' title='Just Might Be Getting Through.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-1899973581126783301</id><published>2007-04-24T13:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-24T14:03:28.197-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Really Quiet Now.</title><content type='html'>Against my better judgement, I decided to call Sara today. I took her giving me her daily schedule as a guilt free way of her asking me to call her occasionally. Well, that's not the case at this moment. She hung up on me before I could get the 3rd word out. I made a mistake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here has been the last 3 weeks in a nutshell:&lt;br /&gt;Three weeks ago we talk - enjoyable conversation.  Twice, including phone sex.&lt;br /&gt;She wants me to know her schedule - I figure so I know when I can call and what days we can possibly meet up.&lt;br /&gt;She even suggests doing our 'anniversaries' together. Check into the same hotel. Arrange to go to the same restaurant. (Our anniversaries are less than a month apart)&lt;br /&gt;I suggest that if it keeps her around longer, so we can talk more often, then I'm willing to put off meeting too soon. Knowing what that puts her through.&lt;br /&gt;Then I tell her I'm going on vacation and will be locking the account to help us both - and asking her to please be here when I come back. Otherwise I'll be calling.&lt;br /&gt;I call her during vacation - being glad I had an 'excuse' to call.  (inside joke)&lt;br /&gt;She was  fine, she didn't hang up on me.&lt;br /&gt;I come back - she's not here.&lt;br /&gt;I call - she hangs up on me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-1899973581126783301?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/1899973581126783301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=1899973581126783301' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/1899973581126783301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/1899973581126783301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/04/really-quiet-now.html' title='Really Quiet Now.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-961233787422013641</id><published>2007-04-23T07:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-23T07:36:52.989-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Still Quiet.</title><content type='html'>She still hasn't checked in yet.  Looking back I've realized the very last email she read was when I told her I was going away for 10 days and would be locking up the account (and my text messages) while I was gone.  That was on a Wednesday before I left, and she never did come back to read anymore emails up until I locked the account on that Friday.  Considering she never liked when I 'made the rules' as far as how/when we communicate, it's very possible this upset her more than I realized it would.  Hell, you'd think she'd be happy that I actually was locking the account on my own! lol. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I look back at this last time she was around, I don't regret blowing what seemed as finally a chance to see her again.  It was obvious she wasn't ready, which meant she would have cancelled last minute on us anyway.  I know the only way I can see her is to set a date and time, and be there.  She will show up.   But she needs to - at the very least - be checking in to see that message for that to work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-961233787422013641?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/961233787422013641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=961233787422013641' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/961233787422013641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/961233787422013641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/04/still-quiet.html' title='Still Quiet.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-6583186901402855205</id><published>2007-04-19T06:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-19T07:16:14.939-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Truth.</title><content type='html'>Truth be told, I'm really upset that things weren't different this time.  It seems the more open she is when she comes back, the quicker she closes back up and leaves.  It seems that its those times when she is more cautious and reserved, being careful not to say the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt; word, is when she stays around a lot longer.  I know, I know, most of you women will totally understand that, but I don't, and it really really sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was gone an awful long time, and came back for reasons unknown to me.  But it obviously wasn't because her thinking has changed.  Or maybe she thought it did?  Maybe she began to feel something &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; better than nothing.  Only to find out it really is more complicated than that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, maybe I should mention what made this time feel like it would be different.  She actually, willingly, devulged her daily schedule to me.  Not totally, but when I didn't press, she volunteered it.  This is a first - at least in a long, long time.  She always felt that by me knowing this, I'd use it to my advantage in some way.  And she was right to feel that way.  So why tell me now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first way I'll use it is to send her a belated birthday present.  Knowing what day she's home helps me plan on having it arrive on that day.   Of course, I'll also know what day/time I can be assured she's home if I decided to call her.  Think this was her intention?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-6583186901402855205?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/6583186901402855205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=6583186901402855205' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/6583186901402855205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/6583186901402855205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/04/truth.html' title='Truth.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-4005074019121214119</id><published>2007-04-18T08:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T08:46:40.685-05:00</updated><title type='text'>As Expected.</title><content type='html'>Well it comes as no surprise that Sara hasn't been back yet.  I opened up the account on Sunday and she is still a no-show.  I did call her last week - something was happening that is kind of an inside joke and I knew she'd laugh about it.  She did, but I kept the conversation very short anyway.  As usual I'm flip-flopping about whether to call her again.   I know she wants to hear from me, and hopes that I would initiate the call.  But on the other hand, I know she doesn't want to live with the fear that I'll call at the wrong time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll probably wait until she starts checking in again.  Even if she's hiding, I can at least leave her an email letting her know when I'll be calling.  If it is a bad time, its up to her to let me know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-4005074019121214119?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/4005074019121214119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=4005074019121214119' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/4005074019121214119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/4005074019121214119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/04/as-expected.html' title='As Expected.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-7334127380237927232</id><published>2007-04-05T13:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-05T14:07:33.943-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Update.</title><content type='html'>This is probably the last update for awhile because I'm heading out of town.  Sara's hiding again.   Until yesterday, she didn't know I'll be going away for vacation  for about 10 days.  She hates when I go on vacation.  It's been the catalyst of her leaving everytime that I do.  I don't think she plans on leaving,  but something usually happens to push her that way.  And this is pretty common for her to go silent just before I leave, but I don't expect her here when I get back.  No doubt the timing sucks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, unlike other times, I won't hesitate to call her if she isn't here when I get back.  She knows this, because I told her I will.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-7334127380237927232?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/7334127380237927232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=7334127380237927232' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/7334127380237927232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/7334127380237927232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/04/last-update.html' title='Last Update.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-8569848526339391742</id><published>2007-04-03T12:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T12:09:34.160-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's All Good.</title><content type='html'>Talked to Sara twice on the phone today.  She surprised me with an early morning phone call at work, then later asked that I call her after lunch - which started out as phone sex.  Both times we talked for about an hour, nothing in particular, just catching up.  All her walls are down.   Her wanting to meet me for coffee had nothing to do with the coffee.  Just like me, she longs to see me again.   I'm hesitatant to have 'that' conversation with her even though I know that right now is the best time to have it.  She's in a good place and will be open and honest.   We've gone down this road many, many times, and it always ends at the same place for her.  I'm hoping if we talk honestly up front, maybe that can change.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-8569848526339391742?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/8569848526339391742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=8569848526339391742' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/8569848526339391742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/8569848526339391742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/04/its-all-good.html' title='It&apos;s All Good.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-2936553016879851087</id><published>2007-03-30T09:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-30T11:27:24.722-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Coffee.</title><content type='html'>Received a text message from her this morning.  She tells me she has two or three opening near the end of April and would like to get together for coffee - &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;if&lt;/span&gt; I think it's a good idea.  I don't know how to answer that.  Of course I think it's a good idea, hell, I'd tell her anything just to see her again. lol.  Even so, I will plan to meet her, but I hope beforehand we establish a little better idea what she wants out of this.  She should know by now what I'm wanting.  I realize trying to coax her into talking about it beforehand will severly jeopardize  the chances of actually getting to see her.  But, that's not necessarily a bad thing.  At least I'll know then, that she still isn't ready yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-2936553016879851087?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/2936553016879851087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=2936553016879851087' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/2936553016879851087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/2936553016879851087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/03/coffee.html' title='Coffee.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-8622767532821594402</id><published>2007-03-29T06:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-29T06:23:34.467-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally.</title><content type='html'>Finally, late in the afternoon, she checked back in, read my email, then left me this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;tried to text u yesterday, but i guess the old e-mail isn't working. i was just going to see if you wanted to meet me for coffee this morning.  Oh well... guess u are probably right.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first I took this as her teasing me - she knows that would have been impossible for me to do at a moments notice.  But I also wonder if she is being serious because she hasn't been back in since then.  Only time will tell now.  But I don't regret not calling her.  I've been down that road at least 50 times and it's always lead to the same place.  If she is being serious in the email she left me, then I was right to not have called her.  She's not where she needs to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-8622767532821594402?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/8622767532821594402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=8622767532821594402' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/8622767532821594402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/8622767532821594402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/03/finally.html' title='Finally.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-1753876034976049651</id><published>2007-03-28T07:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-28T07:42:45.972-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Call Me.</title><content type='html'>I knew something was up.  I just received a text message from her asking me to call her.  I haven't, yet.  Instead I sent her an email telling her I have no desire to talk if she is just going to start threatening me again.  And if its not that,  that I'm also concerned about putting her back on that rollercoaster again if nothing has changed in her.  Guess we'll see what kind of response I get from that.  Stay tuned.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-1753876034976049651?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/1753876034976049651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=1753876034976049651' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/1753876034976049651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/1753876034976049651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/03/call-me.html' title='Call Me.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-6166569374699547173</id><published>2007-03-27T08:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-27T08:55:03.963-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Change.</title><content type='html'>Well, I must be getting through to her.  Or possibly she's getting ready to test the waters again.  In the recent past,  her checkin's were sometimes two usually three days apart.  Occasionally almost a week.  Although somewhat regular, it was hardly close to a daily thing.   Well, she's  coming back more often.  Last Friday, Sunday, Monday, this morning, and this morning again!  Twice in the span of an hour.  I'm re-reading what I have left her recently to make sure I'm not leading her on unintentionally.  I've been hounding her with a particular question for over a month  now.  I asked her to tell me when the last time she ever felt 'alive'.  You know, that feeling you get when you're with somebody special.    Although I don't repeat the question each time, I'm constantly asking her for her answer.  I wonder if she's forgotten the question? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that, any emails I've left that pertain to 'us' has been in a nostalgic, reminiscing mode.  The point I am wanting to make is that what we had is still something worth having again.  She obviously can disagree and there's not a thing I can do about it.  We'll see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-6166569374699547173?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/6166569374699547173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=6166569374699547173' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/6166569374699547173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/6166569374699547173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/03/change.html' title='A Change.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-2618246913603856172</id><published>2007-03-23T12:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T09:03:59.758-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Know.</title><content type='html'>Well, not that I could before, but I just can't figure her out. She did check in on her birthday as I mentioned previously, but not again until today (Friday). I thought for sure she'd be concerned (not necessarily disappointed) that no package had arrived and she would have checked in for clues whether she should expect one. But she did finally retrieve an ecard that I sent her on her birthday. She had not retrieved any of the other ones I have sent over the last few months, so I was sure she was aware that I would know if it was picked up or not. Not sure why she did this time. Maybe she wants to let on that she's checking in? I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So do I let on that I know she checked in?  Maybe not.  I'd like to know she'll view any ecard I want to send her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-2618246913603856172?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/2618246913603856172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=2618246913603856172' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/2618246913603856172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/2618246913603856172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/03/dont-know.html' title='Don&apos;t Know.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-8194953855911481444</id><published>2007-03-19T09:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-19T09:14:45.260-05:00</updated><title type='text'>There is Hope.</title><content type='html'>There is hope for me yet.  Today is her birthday and I have not sent her anything in the mail, and I have no intentions of calling her today.  I've only left an ecard wishing her a nice day, which I realize she won't open because she knows it would send me a 'picked up' message.   But I wish I could say that I have no expectations.  I do.  I want her to be disappointed.  I want her to realize that she does want me to make a big deal over her during these special days.  I want her to start considering a compromise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess nothings changed in the end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-8194953855911481444?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/8194953855911481444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=8194953855911481444' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/8194953855911481444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/8194953855911481444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/03/there-is-hope.html' title='There is Hope.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-3581706270701853698</id><published>2007-03-13T05:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-13T14:21:25.809-05:00</updated><title type='text'>10 Days</title><content type='html'>But she's back again. Well back but still hiding, so not much has changed. There were about 10 emails waiting for her and she read them all. I've got this gut feeling - or maybe just wishful thinking - that something will be different this time. Her birthday is less than a week, and I still haven't decided what, or if, I'm going to do anything. And I'm sure that's on her mind as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left her this to read, which does sum up in a few words what I haven't been able to say in a hundred:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;i know i can walk away from this - considering you haven't given me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anything to walk away from lately.  i just can't walk away from you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Think its the same for her?&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-3581706270701853698?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/3581706270701853698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=3581706270701853698' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/3581706270701853698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/3581706270701853698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/03/10-days.html' title='10 Days'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-1069858004750946477</id><published>2007-03-08T08:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-08T09:20:17.352-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Screwed Up.</title><content type='html'>I'm sure it'll be for the better.  Occasionally I'll leave Sara an email starting out something like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"obviously you're here if you're reading this......"&lt;/span&gt;. But in my attempt to stop sounding like a broken record in my emails, in an email I left her last Friday I shortened that to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"you're here"&lt;/span&gt;. The "obviously if you're reading this" was supposed to be implied. I think she instead implied "I know you're here"- since she hasn't been back since then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't too long ago that I had asked her &lt;a href="http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/01/still-here.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; not to read my emails if she's only doing so out of curiosity. It was a veiled attempt to make her consider the possibility that I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;might&lt;/span&gt; know she does read them. Well, it did trigger something because it was almost two weeks before she came back. I assumed that meant - whether i knew or not - she wanted to be here. That's probably what she's wrestling with again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been trying to find a way to get us out of this stalemate for awhile so this, hopefully, will do just that. Of course I'm hoping, as always, that she decides to go my way. But it's totally up to her to decide that.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who think I'm still being cruel and manipulative, I'll repeat, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;it's totally up to her to decide&lt;/span&gt;. She will continue to do what &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SHE&lt;/span&gt; wants to do, and I will continue to do what &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; want to do.  We both have the same freedom of choice.  Period.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-1069858004750946477?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/1069858004750946477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=1069858004750946477' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/1069858004750946477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/1069858004750946477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/03/screwed-up.html' title='Screwed Up.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-8852765625693718147</id><published>2007-02-23T10:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-23T11:00:37.581-05:00</updated><title type='text'>She....</title><content type='html'>Don't have anything new to say, just that she still checks in pretty regularly, but chooses to remain hidden.   I am writing things now to provoke her into surfacing, but so far she hasn't budged.   Why is she still hanging on as well?   The last we left things, she was the one that also came to the realization she could never leave her family as well.  So what's she hoping for now? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She can be so gawd damn frustrating.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-8852765625693718147?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/8852765625693718147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=8852765625693718147' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/8852765625693718147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/8852765625693718147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/02/she.html' title='She....'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-117148833759314460</id><published>2007-02-14T16:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-14T16:35:21.606-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Did It.</title><content type='html'>Or rather, I didn't.  I didn't send her a gift, or call her.  I did leave an email, but it wasn't to wish her a Happy V-day.  When she checked in that one weekend, oddly enough, she didn't read everything.  At first I thought maybe she didn't have time, or she needed to bail quickly.  But when she didn't come back I knew it was probably for a different reason.  She probably 'caught' herself and by logging out without reading more, she put herself back on track.  Well, she was back again this past weekend, and again yesterday.  But made no attempt to finish reading everything.  I can't figure that one out.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, she did check in today - I'm sure to look for something from me.  I hope I didn't disappoint her when she didn't receive anything in the mail.  I knew it was a no-win for me anyway.  But I'm sure she was disappointed not getting a wish of love via an email.  Of course, I never got one either.  Anyway, her birthday is in a month.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-117148833759314460?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/117148833759314460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=117148833759314460' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/117148833759314460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/117148833759314460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/02/i-did-it.html' title='I Did It.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-117068844175979105</id><published>2007-02-05T08:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-05T10:15:25.103-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend</title><content type='html'>Sara checked in over the weekend, but didn't want me to know so she remains hidden for now.  It seems this happens when a special day is coming up, which is odd because of how she handles those days with respect to me.  I guess its possible she just wanted to know I haven't forgotten about her, and by seeing all the emails I've left her did just that.  She got her reaffirmation and will get back on track.  Only time will tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In one of those emails, I told her I made a promise to myself not to do anything for Valentine's Day.  No cards, gifts, phone calls, emails.  Nothing.  But unfortunately for her, I made the promise to myself - and I do tend to break those occasionally.  If I really felt I could keep it, I would have promised her instead.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If she doesn't come back, chances are I could keep that promise.  But if she continues to snoop around for awhile I almost feel compelled to do something because I know she'll be looking for something.  I don't want to disappoint her.  But either way I will disappoint her.  Either I break my promise and send something, or I keep my promise and she gets nothing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-117068844175979105?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/117068844175979105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=117068844175979105' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/117068844175979105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/117068844175979105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/02/weekend.html' title='Weekend'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-116973858118862726</id><published>2007-01-25T09:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-25T10:23:01.626-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Still Quiet.</title><content type='html'>Its going on two weeks since Sara has last checked in.  Maybe she will succeed this time.  I know she'll be anxious when Valentine's Day comes around.  I guess I will be as well, but I've promised myself already that I will be doing nothing.  No gifts.  No special emails.  Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been said many times, in many different ways, that it's better to have experienced something, or somebody special, and to have lost it.  Than never at all.  I never subscribed to that.  It's been my belief that its best to not know what you're missing.  Sure we have very special memories, but they will always trigger the longing to have it again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-116973858118862726?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/116973858118862726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=116973858118862726' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116973858118862726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116973858118862726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/01/still-quiet.html' title='Still Quiet.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-116895490667347375</id><published>2007-01-16T08:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-16T08:41:46.696-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Still Here.</title><content type='html'>She still checks into email pretty regularly.  That is, up until last Friday when I left her this email:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;goes without saying, but i'll say it (ask it) again.  i'm writing these emails for the women who wants to be here.  who still holds out hope that i'll find a way for us to be together.  if you're here only out of concern for me, or curiosity, then please don't be.  with that frame of mind, what i write here may appear pathetic.  if that's the case, please don't read anymore and let me keep some dignity.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I followed that with a few more 'lite' emails.  She read them all, but that's been it.  I guess I've given her reason to believe (again) that I &lt;b&gt;do&lt;/b&gt; know when she reads these emails.  But then again, this isn't the first time I've left her that kind of an email.  But that's okay, maybe if she did know, things would take a different course.  Lets be honest, her being here - even if she's hiding - has a lot to do with why I'm still holding on.  Then again, knowing she's here, might also be a way of preventing me from finding other ways to contact her.  I don't know for sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-116895490667347375?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/116895490667347375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=116895490667347375' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116895490667347375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116895490667347375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/01/still-here.html' title='Still Here.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-116785302641077512</id><published>2007-01-03T14:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-03T14:37:06.463-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Years Resolutions.</title><content type='html'>I don't make any. I guess you can say my resolution is not to make any.  If it's not worth doing/starting on a Thursday, then its a good chance you don't care enough to keep it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think its safe to say Sara didn't make a resolution to stop checking email.  Although she's been hiding since the day after Christmas, she hasn't stopped checking in.  I never got, and rarely do I ever get, any kind of holiday wish from her.  And that includes birthdays, and anniversaries.  What's up with that?  I never could figure that out.  Especially since she always comes around looking for one from me.  8am Christmas morning.  9am NewYears Day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-116785302641077512?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/116785302641077512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=116785302641077512' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116785302641077512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116785302641077512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2007/01/new-years-resolutions.html' title='New Years Resolutions.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-116723547677248531</id><published>2006-12-27T10:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-27T11:04:36.793-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Her Decision.</title><content type='html'>Although Sara has been in and out the past few weeks, I've found it difficult to write about it.  I'm not sure why.  I still feel she's on a fishing expedition, and as such, I seem to bait her with comments as well.  It all stems from her belief that I never had any intentions of wanting to be with her all the time.  And although that's true - its not for the reason she still believes.  Now she has been confiding in a couple of her friends and they, being good friends, are trying to convince her she is right to believe what she believes.  I certainly can't fault them for that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through our conversations, she's tries to convince me she never intended for there to be an 'us'.  That it was a ploy to scare me away since all her other attempts have failed.  And at the same time she would tell me why her friends think that its a bad idea.  And why she thinks its a bad idea.  Although I don't buy it for a second that she's never wanted to leave her husband for me, what I'm not sure of is why she's trying to convince me of it.   Anyway, she now says she will think about it and decide if its something she does want.  Go figure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no doubt that if she now seriously considers it, she will see the same obstacles that I see.  And I'm hoping she'll realize her decision not to leave her family is not based on her loving me any less.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what then?  I believe the 'all or nothing' comes because of her insecurity in me.  She feels that's the only way to know for sure that I'm not just playing her.  Everything I've said and done up until now has been with the hope of removing that insecurity.  And hopefully her 'all or nothing' attitude goes with it.  I then hope she can be happy with whatever I am able to offer her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-116723547677248531?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/116723547677248531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=116723547677248531' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116723547677248531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116723547677248531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/12/her-decision.html' title='Her Decision.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-116673923233381738</id><published>2006-12-21T17:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-21T17:13:52.396-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lots of Drama.</title><content type='html'>A lot has been going down the past couple weeks.  So much its tough to keep straight what's happening.  I hope to blog about it soon, but just wanted you to know I'm still here.  And no, the shit hasn't hit the fan.  Just a lot of emotions have come forth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-116673923233381738?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/116673923233381738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=116673923233381738' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116673923233381738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116673923233381738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/12/lots-of-drama.html' title='Lots of Drama.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-116533427360352944</id><published>2006-12-05T10:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-05T10:57:53.630-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Went Fishing.</title><content type='html'>Sara checked in over the weekend.  Normally when she leaves, she checks back to read one last email from me.  I guess I write one everytime to make sure there is no misunderstandings, or to apologize for anything said that I might regret later.  This last time she never came back to read it.  Well, considering I waited almost a month to write it, it still took her another month after that before checking back in.  I'm not sure if that's what she was looking for, but she read my email several times before sending me a reply.  After a very brief exchange of emails, she ended it with:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"i guess it stops here then.  i offered once, you turned me down.  i will not offer again."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She has not been back.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My guess is, she, like me,  is having a hard time moving on.  And she, like me, is still holding out hope the other will come around.  But if she isn't planning on offering again, then why did she come back?  Fishing for something?  I think the main point from my initial email is that she went over the edge so quickly, she never really heard anything i was telling her.  Or asking her.  Maybe she's waiting for me to offer?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-116533427360352944?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/116533427360352944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=116533427360352944' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116533427360352944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116533427360352944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/12/went-fishing.html' title='Went Fishing.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-116472331649817718</id><published>2006-11-28T09:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-28T09:15:16.526-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Why?</title><content type='html'>It seems to be a reoccurring question I get asked.  Why do I settle.  Why won't I walk away from Sara.  Why don't I walk away from my wife.  Why do I choose to inflict pain and suffering upon Sara.  Why do I choose to inflict pain and suffering on my family.  Why .....  Why ..... Why .....?   There is no simple answer because each particular question has a particular answer.  And to be perfectly blunt - I don't care.  I know what I feel.  I know what I want.  I know what I can live with.  I know what I can't live without.  I've never been a 'grass is greener on the other side' type of person.  I know there are pitfalls and drawbacks to every relationship, so I won't pretend that Sara and I wouldn't have our share.  (My apologies for continuing with the 'grass' scenario), I totally agree that if the grass on your side is brown and dead, anything on the other side is a definate improvement and you need to go for that.  But the grass is green on my side.  A few bare spots, but nice nonetheless.  And there is no doubt that to lots of other people, I'm on that 'other side'.  So why can't I be happy with that?  I don't know.  Things would be so much simpler if I could be.  But that's not in my nature to leave well enough alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one question I'm always happy to answer though is "Why Sara?"  If you ever meet, or have met, that one person whom you want to climb inside their body just so you can get as close as possible to them, you'll understand.  5 years later, Sara still has that affect on me.  My heart is still totally in her hands.  As poetic as that sounds, it's actually the best way to describe the hold she has on me.  The warmth I feel inside when I'm with her feels just as if her hands were warming my heart.  And the pain I feel inside when she's gone is no different than if she was squeezing it herself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-116472331649817718?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/116472331649817718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=116472331649817718' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116472331649817718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116472331649817718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/11/why.html' title='Why?'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-116403317447417833</id><published>2006-11-20T09:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-20T09:32:54.500-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dino Sings</title><content type='html'>My alltime favorite crooner, Dean Martin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Oh let me go&lt;br /&gt;Let me go&lt;br /&gt;Let me go lover&lt;br /&gt;Let me be, set me free from your spell&lt;br /&gt;You made me weak, cut me deep, I can't sleep lover&lt;br /&gt;I was cursed from the first day I fell&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;You don't want me&lt;br /&gt;But you want me to go on wanting you&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How I pray that you will say that we are through&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please turn me loose&lt;br /&gt;What's the use&lt;br /&gt;Let me go lover&lt;br /&gt;Let me go .....&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think its those lyrics I put in &lt;b&gt;bold&lt;/b&gt; that affected me the most.  It's been her mantra for several years, yet I could never convince her that that was never true.  And it still hurts me to think she continues to believe that.  And I'm sure that's what she reminds herself whenever she thinks about possibly coming back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-116403317447417833?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/116403317447417833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=116403317447417833' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116403317447417833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116403317447417833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/11/dino-sings.html' title='Dino Sings'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-116238421514488509</id><published>2006-11-01T07:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-01T07:31:34.736-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Month?</title><content type='html'>Has it really been two weeks since I posted last?  Doesn't seem that long.  However it's been a month since Sara left, and it seems like an eternity.  Go figure.  I finally opened the account again.  Yeah, I know, what the hell am I thinking.  I think I did because I'm just bored, and I think she is as well, and hell, I miss her.  But a very dear friend of mine knows me enough to know its more than that.  She has always sympathized with Sara, yet would also be angry with her because she could never accept what I was able to offer.  She knows I reopened that account because I love her too much to let her go.  That my persistance in finding that compromise is what's driving me.  And  that I'm just to damn stubborn to quit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way I'm looking at it right now, if Sara comes back, that's her problem to deal with.  If she doesn't, it becomes mine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-116238421514488509?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/116238421514488509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=116238421514488509' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116238421514488509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116238421514488509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/11/month.html' title='A Month?'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-116118670039062322</id><published>2006-10-18T09:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-18T10:54:26.090-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Complete Picture.</title><content type='html'>I think all the pieces have come together and I'm ashamed to think I really did lead Sara on about our chances of being together.  It wasn't on purpose, but after figuring out how she was seeing things, and how she could have interpreted my thoughts,  I think that is what happened.   It all fell together while I was watching a movie.  In one scene, the hero saves the woman, and after being resuscitated she looks up at him with the big "need you" eyes and says "What took you so long?"  At that instant I pictured Sara saying the same thing to me if I were to show up at her doorstep.  Then the realization hit.  She has probably been waiting for me to save her this whole time.  Couple that with the recent realization that her 'all or nothing' meant she wanted it all from the very beginning.  Then  I remembered her song she thinks about me singing to her, which was 'Hero' by Enrique Iglesias, it all made perfect sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Would you dance&lt;br /&gt;if I asked you to dance?&lt;br /&gt;Would you run&lt;br /&gt;and never look back?&lt;br /&gt;Would you cry&lt;br /&gt;if you saw me crying?&lt;br /&gt;And would you save my soul, tonight?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would you tremble&lt;br /&gt;if I touched your lips?&lt;br /&gt;Would you laugh?&lt;br /&gt;Oh please tell me this.&lt;br /&gt;Now would you die &lt;br /&gt;for the one you loved?&lt;br /&gt;Hold me in your arms, tonight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can be your hero, baby.&lt;br /&gt;I can kiss away the pain.&lt;br /&gt;I will stand by you forever.&lt;br /&gt;You can take my breath away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would you swear&lt;br /&gt;that you'll always be mine?&lt;br /&gt;Or would you lie? &lt;br /&gt;would you run and hide?&lt;br /&gt;Am I in too deep?&lt;br /&gt;Have I lost my mind?&lt;br /&gt;I don't care... &lt;br /&gt;You're here tonight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can be your hero, baby.&lt;br /&gt;I can kiss away the pain.&lt;br /&gt;I will stand by you forever.&lt;br /&gt;You can take my breath away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I just want to hold you.&lt;br /&gt;I just want to hold you.&lt;br /&gt;Am I in too deep? &lt;br /&gt;Have I lost my mind?&lt;br /&gt;I don't care...&lt;br /&gt;You're here tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can be your hero, baby.&lt;br /&gt;I can kiss away the pain. &lt;br /&gt;I will stand by your forever.&lt;br /&gt;You can take my breath away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can be your hero.&lt;br /&gt;I can kiss away the pain.&lt;br /&gt;And I will stand by you forever.&lt;br /&gt;You can take my breath away.&lt;br /&gt;You can take my breath away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can be your hero.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel so horrible not putting it all together long ago.  She would always ask me what I was getting out of this.  My reply was always something like "because in my gut I feel we'll be together someday".  This was a gut feeling, not based on any thoughts of leaving our families, but on the unthinkable of something bad happening that would find us together somehow.  I thought she understood that, but I don't think so.  Or at least she wanted to read more into it.  Hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I know now that she does understand, and because of that she will succeed in staying away.    I'm convinced of that and that's probably why I'm having a much easier time in dealing with her being gone.  I love her.  I miss her.  But seeing the complete picture I totally understand now that it never was about her not being satisfied only being my mistress - it never was an option to begin with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-116118670039062322?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/116118670039062322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=116118670039062322' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116118670039062322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116118670039062322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/10/complete-picture.html' title='The Complete Picture.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-116005577706200590</id><published>2006-10-05T07:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-05T08:42:57.253-05:00</updated><title type='text'>She's Back!</title><content type='html'>No, just kidding.  She did send me this text the day after I locked the account:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;thank you.  please remember that i did ask you to forgive me.  i love you.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, the last words she read from me was something like "you're right, it's much easier when pissed".  Maybe that's a good thing (for her) that she feels I'm pissed at her.  But I doubt it.  I always would have one last email for her to read, to make sure she left with pleasant thoughts.  But not this time.  Just those words.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-116005577706200590?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/116005577706200590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=116005577706200590' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116005577706200590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/116005577706200590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/10/shes-back.html' title='She&apos;s Back!'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-115978997311083382</id><published>2006-10-02T06:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-02T06:52:53.156-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Over.</title><content type='html'>Now who really believes that?  Things got really scary this past weekend.  Sara truly went off the deep end.  I think this email I wrote is what set things off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;regret.  been thinking alot about that lately.  when i ask myself why i can't let you go, the answer is always regret.   i know i'll regret it if i stop fighting for you. but i don't know how much longer i can hold onto you.  i'm sure your mind is saying 'its about time', but i doubt your heart agrees.   but will i also regret waiting for someone who never comes? is there somebody out there who will be content?  but then regret i let that happen if you choose to come back? a vicious circle.  but i remind myself that my love for you is unconditional, and i won't let that happen.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"is there somebody out there who will be content?"&lt;/i&gt;  That is what set her off.  I guess it prompted a final push from her to make me 'shit or get off the pot' as she put it.  Now what's ironic, or sad, is the face she showed while doing this, was about as ugly as it can get.  (I have no desire to explain just how ugly)  How in the world could she feel I'd have any desire to move on with her after seeing this side of her?  I know it was a cumulation of years of frustrations.  With herself and with me.  But it was pretty much like her beating me with a bat while asking me to decide between her or the road.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth be told, I was nearing that point myself as well.  I had just started what I felt was a final campaign to get her to come around my way.  It was a 4 step process, and she interrupted it before step 2.  Of course this is probably a moot point, other than pointing out the fact that I was probably ready to see a final decision made as well.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To her, this common email account we shared was the final thread connecting us.  She was unable to severe it by staying away.  And I was unable to stop writing her emails.  This thread was something she told me I didn't deserve to have.  Not if I didn't have the balls to make something together with her.  But she had a stroke of genius and had come up with a way to remove this final link between us.  She told me if the account stays open, she will anonymously email my wife the account name and password.  This assures her that if I choose to continue writing emails, it better be something I won't mind my wife reading.  Well, she's got me.  Very clever.  I locked the account.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-115978997311083382?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/115978997311083382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=115978997311083382' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115978997311083382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115978997311083382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/10/its-over.html' title='It&apos;s Over.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-115876153568595511</id><published>2006-09-20T08:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-20T09:12:15.790-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Late.</title><content type='html'>I just re-read my last post and realized I should have updated you a lot sooner than this.  Yes, she has been reading my emails since  the last one she left me.  Yet, she still chooses to remain hidden.  She had out-patient surgery last Monday and I was hoping - and yes, nudging her via email - she would let me know if all went well.  Since she never said a word, I called her yesterday.  Even though I had no expectations from the call other than to hear how things went, I was still left feeling discouraged.  Discouraged that she still expends so much energy fighting me.  Fighting us.  She's all excited about a project she's working on for her husbands new business.  It takes her back to her days in school doing what she's trained to do.  I loved hearing the excitement in her voice, and loved her telling me how bad she wants my opinion on it.  But she refuses to send me pictures because, as she puts it, "we know where that will lead".  Yes I do.  So, whats so damn wrong with that?  Don't answer that - its rhetorical.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-115876153568595511?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/115876153568595511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=115876153568595511' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115876153568595511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115876153568595511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/09/late.html' title='Late.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-115755018124977813</id><published>2006-09-06T08:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T08:43:01.370-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Here Today, Gone Tomorrow?</title><content type='html'>Sara surfaced yesterday after remaining quiet for about 3 weeks.  But an email she left me last night has me wondering if she's gone already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;i've changed haven't i?  i used to bounce back after disappointments, after fights,etc.  i'm not bouncing back &amp; there seems to be another one on top of another one.  they're uncontrollable disappointments but they are still disappointments.  the hurt, the pain, the disappointments are far outweighing the happiness.&lt;br /&gt;i know i can here you right now. lol  "cause u don't ever let me see you.  let me tell you i love u in person.  etc. etc. etc."  it hasn't been that long ago - you remember what those times do to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i feel like i've said this a 100 different ways (i actually have).  this time i'll only say ----  "please forgive me." &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What threw me for a loop was her last sentence.  If it said "please do the right thing and close down the email.", then the email makes sense.  I was expecting that.  But to apologize?  For what?  That was totally unexpected.  Then it hit me this morning.  She ran out of ways to tell me, so instead she's hoping I forgive her for leaving - once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since this is the week when she will start having some free time, I think she surfaced only to let me know she's not in the right place - for me.  I'm just curious if she'll just go back to hiding, or if she will really make an attempt to stop reading my emails.  Time will tell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-115755018124977813?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/115755018124977813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=115755018124977813' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115755018124977813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115755018124977813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/09/here-today-gone-tomorrow.html' title='Here Today, Gone Tomorrow?'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-115686053993715245</id><published>2006-08-29T08:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-29T09:09:02.276-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Still Here.</title><content type='html'>Can't believe its been almost 3 weeks since I last posted.  No, we didn't even make it close to the end of the month, however, she has been quiet for almost 2 weeks now.  I received another one of those 'time to end it' type emails.  Nothing different than usual, but what prompted it was.  She had lunch with a friend who has had an affair and made the choice to make a new life with the guy.  Sara saw how happy she was in making that decision and moving forward, and it made Sara want to make that plunge herself.   This was enough to scare her and thus decide, once again, she needs to end this.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Starting next week is when she will find herself alone twice a week for 4 hours each day.  This will be something she hasn't experienced in many, many years.  I don't know if I will be sharing any of that time with her, but it sure is an opportunity that will be tough to pass up.  It'll be her call.  I'm guessing yes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-115686053993715245?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/115686053993715245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=115686053993715245' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115686053993715245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115686053993715245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/08/still-here.html' title='Still Here.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-115523668659318512</id><published>2006-08-10T13:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-10T14:04:46.673-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One Month.</title><content type='html'>Ok, not quite a month, but we're going to try to stay away till the end of this month.  After that, she will suddenly have two 4 hour breaks per week all to herself.  Or to share with whomever she chooses to be with.  She expects me to be on call during those times.  LOL.  We'll see how that goes.  Fortunately for me, I've got several big things starting right now that will suck every last minute of my time, so I'll be able to hold my end of the bargain for at least the next 10 or so days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-115523668659318512?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/115523668659318512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=115523668659318512' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115523668659318512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115523668659318512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/08/one-month.html' title='One Month.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-115495219665839051</id><published>2006-08-07T06:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-07T07:03:16.706-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One Hour.</title><content type='html'>That's how much time I had with Sara on Friday night.  Better yet, it was in a hotel room.  And totally unplanned.  Things just fell into place, and couldn't have been planned any better.  But she's backing off now, as expected, but I can live on this high for a little while.  I don't plan on getting into details, but as little things come to mind, I'll post them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-115495219665839051?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/115495219665839051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=115495219665839051' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115495219665839051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115495219665839051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/08/one-hour.html' title='One Hour.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-115452526517664867</id><published>2006-08-02T08:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-02T08:27:45.223-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Old Times.</title><content type='html'>Not much longer after I posted yesterday, she did come back to email and leave me some messages. Nothing much, just explaining why it'll be impossible for her to be able to meet me.  But her plans are always changing, and by last night, the whole gang will be going to the festival.  But not for more than a few hours.  When I checked in last night, before heading to bed, Sara was in the account and reading my previous emails.  Well, within the next 20 minutes we exchanged about 35 emails.  Just like old times.  She's as much back as she's ever been, and she has forgotten just how much she missed these times we'd sneak to 'talk' via email.  She's excited about seeing me, and has me helping her decide what she should wear.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Just a side note here: She is always like this at this specific time of year.  No matter how far she's gone away, she always manages to come back for this.  Even if she's not able to go to the festival.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately she'll be surrounded by friends, and the chance I'll be able to touch, much less kiss her, is very very slim.  There is no doubt we'll both be very excited to just see each other.  But just like old times, I do expect this to be short-lived.  But I do hope we can get together in the near future before it ends again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-115452526517664867?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/115452526517664867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=115452526517664867' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115452526517664867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115452526517664867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/08/old-times.html' title='Old Times.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-115443849553357946</id><published>2006-08-01T08:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-01T08:27:36.873-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In Limbo.</title><content type='html'>Over the weekend she did check in and leave email for me.  Nothing of substance, other than to let me know (by the lack of substance) that she's trying to appear distant.  Although she recinded her challenge of having me meet her Friday night, I told her I'll still be there waiting for her.   Since then she's gone into hiding, although I know she's still reading emails that I'm leaving for her.  For the next few days I know the excitement will build for the both of us, but unfortunately we both know the climax will be very disappointing.  The chance that we'd even have 10 minutes to ourselves, much less even see each other, is pretty slim.  But Friday night will be exactly 5 years to the day that we met.  And I don't remember having much more than 10 minutes together that first night either.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-115443849553357946?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/115443849553357946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=115443849553357946' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115443849553357946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115443849553357946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/08/in-limbo.html' title='In Limbo.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-115410958989789986</id><published>2006-07-28T12:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-28T12:59:49.990-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hangup Part II</title><content type='html'>We accomplished in a morning what normally took a week.  Sara started off the morning with an email telling me how happy she is, what a wonderful summer she's having, how good sex is with hubby, etc. etc.  (Next week will be the festival where we met 5 years ago)  Then in an email she tells me shes going to the festival but only because her friends talked her into it.  And that if she does good (stays away from me) then she's well on her way.  Later email tells me she's tempted to give me a time and place (at the festival).  A later email tells me a time and place.  Then she says she'd better get fucked by me soon or she'll have the poolboy take care of her.  Ok, so we're at the top of the biggest hill now.  She goes from being pissed to telling me she hates me because I used the word 'was' when I was referenceing a time I told her being in love with her.  She took the past tense to mean that my love was as well.  WTF?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I call her and we have a semi-heated discussion where she acuses me of this being only a ploy to trap her.  And that it always has been like that.  Basically saying love has nothing to do with why I'm around all these years.  The last thing she says before hanging up is "now I know what you've wanting all along.  its the same thing everybody around me wants.  my legs open and my mouth shut!"  Double WTF?  The topic of sex never entered into this phone conversation.  But obviously its what was driving every comment she was making towards me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By noon we had hit the bottom of the hill.  Again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-115410958989789986?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/115410958989789986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=115410958989789986' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115410958989789986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115410958989789986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/07/hangup-part-ii.html' title='Hangup Part II'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-115376722633740750</id><published>2006-07-24T13:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-24T13:55:24.706-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Day.</title><content type='html'>I left Sara this email today.  Not that she's checked in almost 2 months, but had to get it off my chest.  An overwhelming urge to get it off my chest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;don't know if you care but here's what a bad day is like for me. i start to miss you so much i feel something like an anxiety attack coming on. actually it's probably just an overwhelming urge to call you, but feels the same. i have to go for long walks to try to subdue it, thinking of other things trying to get my mind off you. but seems the more i try, the worse it gets. people i know pass me in the halls or outside and i don't even acknowledge them because my mind is so into thinking of you, or trying not to think of you. then i feel myself starting to break, realizing the only way to have you is for us to be together forever. so now i want to call you to tell you that i'm ready. but then the fear of you telling me no keeps me from calling you. vicious circle that lasts most of the day.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;like today.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know.  Sounds pretty pathetic, but it was therapeutic.  Thing is..... today she finally checked in.  Not really sure I wanted her to read that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-115376722633740750?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/115376722633740750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=115376722633740750' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115376722633740750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115376722633740750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/07/day.html' title='A Day.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-115287744952096913</id><published>2006-07-14T06:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-14T06:44:09.720-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaving  A Door Open.</title><content type='html'>I struggle constantly with finding the rationale for why I can't just let this go.  I know I can't fool myself into thinking I'll be happier if I just walk away and let time heal the longing I feel for Sara.  I also know that I won't fool myself into thinking my life will be joyous if I make the committment to Sara and create our own life for each other.  I have a wonderful and fun life, yet I'm not truly happy if Sara isn't in that life in some way.  So I foresee the first scenario as being a daily struggle to accept that I will never be truly happy.  In the second scenario, I foresee my (now) daily longing to have Sara in my life replaced with a daily heartbreak of seeing how our decision has disrupted the lives of the ones we love.  So, my logical brain tries to conjure up a midground where everybody can be happy.  Unfortunately, that place always leaves Sara unhappy.   So I keep trying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-115287744952096913?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/115287744952096913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=115287744952096913' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115287744952096913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115287744952096913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/07/leaving-door-open.html' title='Leaving  A Door Open.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-115280470792474327</id><published>2006-07-13T10:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-13T10:31:48.163-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Started</title><content type='html'>I've started many posts over the last two weeks, but never would finish them.  Seeing what I wrote only convinced me more how unsure I am with what I want to do.  I bounce back and forth between my need to contact her - hoping to have that face to face talk - and my need for her to contact me first.  Either way, it's become obvious to me that the option to let her go is not even on the table.  The way I look at it, as long as I can wait for her to contact me, the better the chance that I will have moved on if I don't hear from her.  But there is one concern she has always had, and that is hearing from me years down the line.  At a time when she has finally settled into the life she was dealt, she is afraid I will come around and stir up all those emotions again.  I have to admit, that will always be a possibility.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-115280470792474327?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/115280470792474327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=115280470792474327' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115280470792474327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115280470792474327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/07/started.html' title='Started'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-115159789919191500</id><published>2006-06-29T11:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-29T13:54:24.930-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You Knew I Would.</title><content type='html'>Well, after flip-flopping back and forth on whether to call Sara, I finally did.  She hasn't attempted to check email, or visit the website for a month now.  A big part of me wanted not to call, but I was so concerned I hurt her with something I said, I had to.  Anyway, we both knew I was eventually going to call, so might as well get it over with.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't say it makes me feel any better though - although she sounded fine, she was distant, as expected.  When I asked her why she hung up on me, she said she finally heard me say the same things she's been trying to convince herself of.  And so hearing me say it, she said, gave her what she needed to run with.  I do believe that, but I'm sure she didn't make that decision at that moment.  I know it hurt her badly to hear it, there's no other reason for her to hang up abruptly like that, and the hurt is what gave her the opportunity to run with it.  It helped her build the wall she needed.  Of course, she's used hurt to build that wall many times. But aside from the 3 months she was gone thru the holidays - the result of a mutual goodbye - this is far longer than any other time.  Of course, as most always in the past, I don't expect her to come back.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just think.  This all came about when she pushed a new button last time.  She told me the reason she was concerned about meeting with me (to discuss our relationship), was that she was afraid she'd convince me to run away.  That it was my reluctance that has shielded her from uprooting her family.  So, I thought I'd alleviate that concern by convincing her why she couldn't talk me into it.  Little did I know what I'd be doing.  I guess it makes no difference that I never believed any of the things I told her.  But it was reality.  Oddly.  As much as I've always realized and could see the reality, it's the one thing I consistantly refused to let sink in thru all of this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-115159789919191500?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/115159789919191500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=115159789919191500' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115159789919191500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115159789919191500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/06/you-knew-i-would.html' title='You Knew I Would.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-115081354640146808</id><published>2006-06-20T08:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-20T09:25:46.590-05:00</updated><title type='text'>More Thinking Out Loud.</title><content type='html'>I have started wondering recently if those 'doubts' she'd profess to have were always merely buttons she pushed to get me to say the things she wanted to hear.  And I'm almost certain now that all those times she kept denying she wanted us to be together - listing all the negatives - was once again pushing a button that got me started telling her all the wonderful things she wanted to hear.  But I'm really curious to know.  Was this subconscience on her part, or has she trained me well?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-115081354640146808?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/115081354640146808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=115081354640146808' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115081354640146808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115081354640146808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/06/more-thinking-out-loud.html' title='More Thinking Out Loud.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-115080993151591344</id><published>2006-06-20T07:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-20T08:25:31.603-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thinking Out Loud.</title><content type='html'>I'm really struggling with this.  I want to let her be, and if she is to come back, it has to be on her own.  But sometimes I get tired of being the passive one.  Laying back and waiting for her.  I have every right to call her and ask why she hung up on me.  But I keep telling myself it really doesn't matter why.  But it does. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't let this go.  Every day that goes by, my need to know increases.  I keep telling myself I'm just looking for an excuse to call her.  But I'm not buying it.  I really need to know.  And I think the reason just goes back to how protective I've always been with her.  I don't want her to hurt.  And I know whatever I said has hurt her deeply.  Yes, I know she's now using that hurt to fuel her resolve to stay away for good.  And yes I know that's probably best for her in the long run.  Doesn't matter.  Every relationship that ends badly remains as a sore that never heals.  I DON'T want to be a sore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She has left no doubt in my mind how she feels about me, but unfortunately I continuely have left doubts in her mind.  And that bothers me.  Although I now know its impossible to accomplish - I always tried to make sure she never had those doubts.  But she has now used 'leaving my family' as a benchmark, and I failed.  And common sense tells me that benchmark will constantly change, so it is impossible.  Yet I will continue to try.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-115080993151591344?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/115080993151591344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=115080993151591344' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115080993151591344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115080993151591344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/06/thinking-out-loud.html' title='Thinking Out Loud.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-115072194149988909</id><published>2006-06-19T07:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-19T08:35:47.170-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Still Quiet</title><content type='html'>Nothing. Although I've come to realize that I can never make her happy, even if we were together, I'm still stuck on needing to know why she hung up on me.  In the past, whenever I'd say things that she didn't want to hear, she always quickly, and obviously, changed the subject.  Why hang up this time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A short while back I created a website for her to visit from time to time.  Here I would tell her things and at times post pictures for her.  She could get her 'fix' of me, without fearing she'd fall into the vicious, endless chain of emails we always find ourselves in.  (Keep in mind, even now it could be 20 to 30 emails a day, every day).  She really enjoyed it, and I felt it was helping her to accept and enjoy the 'good' we can provide each other.  Well, during that last conversation I mentioned that if we were together, I hope she didn't expect I could continue that website.  This really bothered her.  She asked why not.  It was during my explanation of why she couldn't reasonably expect that, as well as other things, that she fell silent.  Not much longer after that, she hung up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's when I realized it would be a fulltime endeavor just trying to keep her happy.  Oddly enough, I would still accept the challenge.  No doubt it would be an explosive relationship, after all we're both very stubborn, but it would also be full of explosive passion.  It would be an interesting relationship - but probably not a good environment for kids to grow up in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-115072194149988909?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/115072194149988909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=115072194149988909' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115072194149988909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115072194149988909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/06/still-quiet.html' title='Still Quiet'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-115011704790857224</id><published>2006-06-12T07:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-12T07:59:43.076-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Quiet</title><content type='html'>Unlike the other lulls between my posts, this time she has remained quiet as well.  I never closed the email account again but she's managed to stay away for over a week.  And unlike the last few times she left, this time she left me with that damned "what happened?" question lurking around in my skull again.  I realize it doesn't matter what she heard that caused her to hang up on me, but it nevertheless has my curiousity peaked.  What was news to her?   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking back at our last few conversations I remembered how she always took the angle of 'I don't even want an &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;us&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;' type attitude, which always prompted me to convince her how wonderful an &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;us&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; would be.  I'm guessing that did two things - she'd hear things she wanted to hear, and I'd give her enough hope that there actually will be an &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;us&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;.  Both of those being reasons why she never went far, and why we had that conversation so often these past several weeks.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which brings us to our last conversation.  I obviously said some things that ran counter to everything I'd had said previously.  Things I was certain she had considered as well.  Maybe she did, but didn't want to hear it coming from me.  I certainly don't regret anything I said.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As is most always the case, I don't expect her to come back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-115011704790857224?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/115011704790857224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=115011704790857224' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115011704790857224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/115011704790857224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/06/quiet.html' title='Quiet'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114950943986218299</id><published>2006-06-05T06:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T07:10:39.900-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Click.</title><content type='html'>Although I haven't written much, its not because there hasn't been alot to write about.  Sara has come and gone a few more times since the last time I posted, but it's pretty much the same way as the few previous times.  Except this last time.  She hung up on me.  Not in anger - I don't think.  When we got around to the 'us' part of the conversation, she told me why she was afraid to get together to discuss a future.  She told me she was afraid she'd talk me into it.  Well, of course, I had to prove her wrong and told her my reasons why I felt a future together would be impossible.  As I talked, she listened without saying a word.  Then I heard the 'click'.  Apparently she didn't like what I was saying.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier in the conversation I commented to her that it would be humanly impossible for me to expend as much time and energy into her if we were actually married.  I (half kiddingly) told her it was a fulltime job already and we were far from being a fulltime couple.  This came as a shock to her.  Which then shocked me.  How could she realistically expect that?  I pretty much feel like I put my life on hold when she comes around so that I can give her as much of my attention as possible.  I choose to do this, and enjoy doing it.  But as I mentioned, it would be unrealistic to expect that kind of attention 24/7.  But I believe now that's what she wants, or requires, to be happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess I've given her a lot to think about now.  Things she probably refused to think about otherwise.  Reality really can suck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114950943986218299?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114950943986218299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114950943986218299' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114950943986218299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114950943986218299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/06/click.html' title='Click.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114866926220539336</id><published>2006-05-26T13:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-26T13:47:42.316-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Permission</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;allowed to ask u 2 cll me w/o acct &lt;br /&gt;opening or u clling me? if answer &lt;br /&gt;is yes - cll me.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was a text message I got from her today.  Of course I called her.  If the message is kind of cryptic, its referring a comment I made to her recently.  How its seems to be okay for her to contact me without retribution, but the reverse is not true.  As has come to be everytime we talk, it was perfect.  We talked about everything, and nothing.  But I think what prompted her to call was the very real possibility that she will be moving further away.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her husbands business has expanded into a major city, and rather than spend all the money commuting to meetings regularly, he's considering moving the family there.  And she is not happy about that at all.  For several reasons, but its this one particular one that surprised me.  I would have thought this was just the push she was looking for, but apparently not.  Over the past couple years it had become increasingly more difficult for us to see each other.  But moving from (the present) 2 to over 8 hours away will make it impossible.  And that saddens her.  I guess when push comes to shove, she'd rather have the hope of a possible get-together always waiting in the wings.  I hope it goes without saying that I was as deeply saddened by that news as well.  But until it actual happens, I don't intend on dwelling on it.  I'll just keep looking for the next text message from her.  Maybe the next one will be more than a request to call her.  Maybe a request to go see her?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114866926220539336?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114866926220539336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114866926220539336' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114866926220539336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114866926220539336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/05/permission.html' title='Permission'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114780496227360413</id><published>2006-05-16T13:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-16T13:42:42.310-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The End. Again.</title><content type='html'>Last Friday evening she sent me a textmessage asking me to call her.  I'd like to say I was strong and ignored it, but fact is, I didn't see it until the next day.  Surprising to me, I wasn't upset that I missed it, and I wasn't even sure if I would have called her anyway.  But by Sunday evening I was concerned at how soon she had come back and thought something was wrong.  She asked again on Monday for me to call her, so I did.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was happy, content, and no hint of there being anything wrong.  We talked for almost two hours about everything.  Pretty much covered the same territory as  most all of our recent conversations had.  Yes, opened up email again (for the day) and basically we had a fun day.  We had another phone conversation, which led to phone sex, later that afternoon, and about 40 emails were passed back and forth throughout the day.  Yet, not once did I feel she was back, only just visiting for the day. We did discuss more about 'the talk'.  But it was apparent nothing had changed either of our minds.  Yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To this moment, I don't have a clue why that happened.  At least not so soon after we had 'ended' it again.  But I can tell you that my expectations of her coming back again is way to high for my comfort.  She asked that I leave her one more email before I locked it up again.  And now we are at The End.  Again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114780496227360413?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114780496227360413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114780496227360413' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114780496227360413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114780496227360413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/05/end-again.html' title='The End. Again.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114708885586216923</id><published>2006-05-08T05:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-08T06:47:37.766-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The End?</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;If/when i do come back it will be for good.  I will not settle for only half of you.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like all the times she has left before, I always feel its for good.  No exception now, but this time it's different.  She has put all the pieces to the puzzle together now.  She has left me wondering no more as to what's going on in her head.  And she has made it very clear what I have to do if I ever want to be with her again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although everything rests on my shoulders again, I've asked her not to test me.  I still live with the hope that she will find a compromise for us - so I will fail her tests miserably.  She told me she will not be back until I'm ready to give her a full commitment, and I have asked her not to come back unless she can accept a compromise.  The lines are drawn.  I hold little hope they will be crossed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114708885586216923?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114708885586216923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114708885586216923' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114708885586216923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114708885586216923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/05/end.html' title='The End?'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114683002045729426</id><published>2006-05-05T06:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-05T06:53:40.526-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Desperation</title><content type='html'>People seemed to really focus on the threats that Sara has made.  I thought I mentioned before that she has done this a couple times, and I don't take them seriously.  They are just an indication she finds herself in some kind of desperation mode.  We've talked a few more times and she has opened up even more into the 'behind the scenes' of her life.  Stuff I can't possibly know without her telling me.  As much as I don't want to divulge these things, they are things I need to remember if I'm to help end this relationship.  But it summarizes to this.  She feels she has finally come to a crossroads in her life.  Her preferred path is a life totally with me.  Not just partially with me.  She wants to stop crying herself to sleep wishing I was there in bed with her.  She wants me there instead.  She feels her children are young enough to adapt to the change, and that my children are old enough to do likewise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other path involves 100% committment to her husband and children.  Extinguishing all flames of desire that burn within her (her words).  Helping her husband build his company into the multi-million dollar firm it will be within 5 years.  And hope that money can buy her continued happiness.  Oh, and only wearing frumpy sweatsuits wherever she goes alone so she never is tempted to stray again. lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you can see why the storm of emotions have been blowing this week.  Not only is she forcing me to make this decision for her, but she's forcing herself to really let go of me otherwise.  I asked her why, if she is so sure this is what she wants, I'm the one that has to walk away.  Why doesn't she just not come back?  Her reply:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;don't u get it!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I CAN'T GO AWAY!!  How do you stop doing something you don't want to stop.  How do you give up something you don't want to give up. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's finally becoming crystal clear to me now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114683002045729426?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114683002045729426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114683002045729426' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114683002045729426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114683002045729426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/05/desperation.html' title='Desperation'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114675189702825251</id><published>2006-05-04T07:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-04T10:32:32.156-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Where to Start</title><content type='html'>**Updated below**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much as happened I'm not sure I can remember it all.  I guess the bottom line is she's leaving.  Once again.  And as always, it looks like for good.  It took a little while after our phone conversation for me to realize something wasn't right.  I had asked her via email to explain and I received a scathing, cruel email in return.  Now I knew something was wrong.  Then I got this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;u have 24 hours to lock up the accounts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if you don't i will call ur wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;don't call my bluff.  you will regret it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;call me, i'll call you.  mail me anything, i'll mail you.  drive to my house, i'll drive to yours.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now I can't remember details, and they're really not important right now.  I knew things were spiraling downwards and I knew she was inches from going over the edge.  I knew she was waiting on emails from me, but I didn't know what to say.  I just wanted things to simmer down, but I knew saying nothing could only inflame things more.  She again warned me to shut things down or else.  My response was to tell her I was on my way to my son's baseball game - alone.  Obviously I was hinting for her to call me.  Much to my surprise, she did.  She wanted to ask me a question, and I could only answer yes or no.  The question was the obvious one, and after a long pause I answered "yes".  After a longer pause she said nothing.  I then asked when we could get together to discuss the reality of the fallout from my decision.  She started to discuss it on the phone and I stopped her and told her we have to discuss this together.  In person.  The short of it was, she refused.  She said my intention was probably just to convince her it can't work.  My thoughts were that she would convince herself of that.  It then became a very emotional exchange and the usual things were echoed back and forth.  I told her I loved her, but if she doesn't want to discuss our future in person, then it's good-bye.  And hung up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, she's back to threatening what will happen if I don't shut down the accounts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Update*&lt;br /&gt;Things are good again between us.  She still is going to leave, and I promised to lock out the accounts.  She called me and we had a great conversation, one I hope sticks with us both.  She told me the reason why I'm the one that has to walk away:  Because she can't.  Because she doesn't want to.  And the reason why she has tried desperately to avoid seeing me, is because she doesn't want to experience what an orgasm feels like again.  She says she's almost forgotten, and needs to totally forget.  Sigh.  As always, this won't be easy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114675189702825251?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114675189702825251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114675189702825251' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114675189702825251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114675189702825251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/05/where-to-start.html' title='Where to Start'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114668380277469993</id><published>2006-05-03T14:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T14:16:42.800-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Going Down.</title><content type='html'>So much has gone down since Tuesday afternoon, and none of it is good.  I'll wait till it finishes before I post about it.  But its pretty awful.  Right now I'm trying to keep it from getting worse.  Sorry for the tease but...... stay tuned.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114668380277469993?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114668380277469993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114668380277469993' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114668380277469993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114668380277469993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/05/going-down.html' title='Going Down.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114657216085393304</id><published>2006-05-02T06:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-02T07:16:01.066-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Totally Blindsided</title><content type='html'>It comes as no surprise that this is usually how it happens.  But for some reason I was certain this time was different.  It felt like she had settled into a good place.  I can give several examples of why I felt that, what made this time so different, but it makes no difference now.  I was mistaken.  In the timespan of lunch, she progressed from emailing me, asking me to list all the ways I want to make love to her, to calling me an hour later and asking me to walk away and promise I won't come back.  She didn't even wait for me to finish that list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That last conversation was a mixture of laughing and crying.  I'm sure she was joking and laughing to keep from breaking down, but as usual I tried hard to refrain from 'talking' her back.  I only defended myself when she'd - as usual - doubt my true love for her.  And whenever I'd say something that touched her heart she'd shoot back that I'm just a damn charmer and so full of shit.  I know these are all self-defense things she needs to do, but it's not easy to listen to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Kayten&lt;/b&gt; mentioned about the 'jinx' whenever she assigns a guy his own special ring on her phone.  For me it has always been whenever I'd make the decision to recharge our phone card.  When she called, she noticed it'd been recharged and laughed saying I should have known better.  I guess I should have known better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114657216085393304?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114657216085393304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114657216085393304' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114657216085393304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114657216085393304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/05/totally-blindsided.html' title='Totally Blindsided'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114648722611394543</id><published>2006-05-01T06:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T13:41:23.730-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's All Good.</title><content type='html'>*Updated below*&lt;br /&gt;Things are really good.  Sara has remained open, and unguarded, with her feelings.  I don't want to bore you with the little details, just that I've lost that feeling of being dumped soon.  It's just something about where she is right now that's making me feel at ease with us.  For the first time in a long time I feel certain that we will see each other as soon as the first opportunity arises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Update*&lt;br /&gt;So, who saw the writing on the wall before I did?  I received an early morning surprise 'wake-up' call from her.  She just had a few minutes to talk, but later that morning we talked again for about an hour.  Little did I know that I will again receive a 'wake-up' call this afternoon.  Yup, called me to tell me its over.  Once my head stops spinning I'll give more details.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114648722611394543?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114648722611394543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114648722611394543' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114648722611394543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114648722611394543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/05/its-all-good.html' title='It&apos;s All Good.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114614677483389875</id><published>2006-04-27T08:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T14:04:28.960-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Patience.</title><content type='html'>**Updated Below**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although Sara mentioned her desire to meet up right after she put her friend back on the plane home, she figured she already needed a sitter and would just extend the sitters time.  But I didn't persue it because I didn't want her to be distracted during her friend's short visit.    She had a great time and even though she had limited access to her computer, she told me as much as she could.  That included several comments that told me she was totally there for me as well.  Yesterday morning her friend went home, however she might now have another house guest for a few weeks.  She's been excited that her other distant friend will be moving to her city since her husband got a job there.  Her friend contacted her and asked if her husband could stay at their house the first couple weeks until he found an apartment and could move his wife (her friend) there as well.  Oh well.  As frustrated as I am at hearing this, I guess I've waited many times in the past for her.  Just seem a little short on patience right now.  But she wants me to call her today, we just need to figure a good time, so I hope I can hide my frustration for her sake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Update*&lt;br /&gt;We had a great conversation, talked about everything we've done since the last time we talked.  It felt like we were sitting together on a couch somewhere just talking.  She didn't hestitate to tell me how much she loves and misses me - which, when she does hesitate, tells me she's trying to pull away.  And although we didn't talk seriously about 'us', we did joke around the subject.  I was smiling so much (as usual) that my cheeks are sore (as usual).  So why do I have this bad feeling?  Has she conditioned me to the point that now my heart feels the inevitable coming?  Before it was just my mind trying to keep me from hoping to much hope, but now my heart is doing so as well.  That sucks.  That really sucks because it's these 'up' times that allow me to endure the down times.  I'm not feeling so 'up' right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114614677483389875?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114614677483389875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114614677483389875' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114614677483389875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114614677483389875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/04/patience.html' title='Patience.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114561886738051572</id><published>2006-04-21T06:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-21T06:30:05.686-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Her Diversion.</title><content type='html'>I don't really have a way to gauge on how things are with Sara.  She had a friend from out of the country come to visit this past Wednesday and she'll be staying a week.  I do expect Sara to use her friend as a diversion to keep from falling too far back.  And I suspect she's hoping it'll help her turn around again, but I also suspect she'll be back once her friend leaves.  The last time we talked she was hoping I can meet her after she drops her friend off at the airport.  After a two day absense, she did finally check her email, but didn't reply to any of them.  But that's ok, because I do want her to enjoy her friend for the short time she'll be in town.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114561886738051572?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114561886738051572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114561886738051572' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114561886738051572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114561886738051572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/04/her-diversion.html' title='Her Diversion.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114547232161659330</id><published>2006-04-19T13:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T13:45:21.650-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Save.</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Sara:&lt;/b&gt; &lt;i&gt;Do you think of me when you have sex with your wife?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; (without hesitation) &lt;i&gt;No.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Sara:&lt;/b&gt; &lt;i&gt;I do.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; (to myself) &lt;i&gt;Shit!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Sara:&lt;/b&gt; &lt;i&gt;I think of you every single time.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt; (thinking fast - and this is true) &lt;i&gt;That's because you can. You close your eyes, I don't.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Sara:&lt;/b&gt; &lt;i&gt;That's true.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Me:&lt;/b&gt;  &lt;i&gt;So, I guess I've been disappointing you a lot?&lt;/i&gt; *grin*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Sara:&lt;/b&gt; (starts laughing so hard she can't answer)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's about how the tone of our conversations have been.  We're not afraid to get into those kinds of discussions (at least she's not) and yet we can laugh about it to keep things light.  Although things feel a little different and more comfortable than usual, I know it's probably the result of her feeling a little more confused at exactly what she wants and doesn't want, and what she can and can't live with.  Yesterday she had locked her email account, and regretted it hours later.  So now she's back to our joint account - something she's not able to lock.  In one of her frustrating moments she commented how she could be happy if I was there 100% of the time she is available.  Which really is not much time.  But she said she realizes that's not at all fair or practical to ask of me.  Of course, that's exactly what I try to do anyway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114547232161659330?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114547232161659330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114547232161659330' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114547232161659330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114547232161659330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/04/good-save.html' title='Good Save.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114503591048298346</id><published>2006-04-14T12:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T12:31:50.506-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Glowing Review.</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;sigh.&lt;br /&gt;haven't lost ur touch ;-)&lt;br /&gt;once again..&lt;br /&gt;i feel so limp.. mindless, though heavy with desire. &lt;br /&gt;want it so badly, want you so badly.&lt;br /&gt;that story will carry me for a little while.&lt;br /&gt;can't describe it.  it's almost like my mind has orgasmed.  &lt;br /&gt;my body hasn't, but there is a release...somehow, someway.&lt;br /&gt;wish i could return the favor.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara called me this morning.  I swear I did nothing to prompt her.  Ok, maybe because &lt;b&gt;'I did nothing'&lt;/b&gt; is what prompted her.  Most of our talk did deal with 'us'.  She told me hours after riping up the phone numbers last time, she regreted it.  But couldn't explain why she left anyway.  (Remember, I called her the day after and she still said she needed to go away again).  She said she's now questioning her faith, and is wondering if she really will regret not having and enjoying &lt;b&gt;us&lt;/b&gt; when the few times will allow.  At the end of our hour long talk, things started to get hot and heavy, she was in no position to continue on the phone, so she asked that I write her an erotic story about us.  I got a glowing review.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114503591048298346?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114503591048298346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114503591048298346' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114503591048298346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114503591048298346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/04/glowing-review.html' title='Glowing Review.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114492814816924319</id><published>2006-04-13T06:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T06:35:48.226-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Addiction</title><content type='html'>That word has been used a lot lately in comments to my posts.  But there is no addiction here, at least not anymore.  Its been a long while since things have been the way they were with the nonstop emails, the constant sexual tension,  the stolen moments to talk with each other, the feeling of having a special little secret.  All those things are what makes an affair so damn much fun.  Its what gives us the extra spring in our step, and the 'out of the blue' shit-eating grins during the day.  That &lt;b&gt;was&lt;/b&gt; the addiction, but we're past that.  Yes, it was very difficult to adjust to a normal life again.  What did I ever do, before Sara, to fill so much time in the day? LOL. Do I crave to have that back again?  Possibly.  But more so now because it would be an indication that she's back.  But that's not what's driving me.  At least I don't think so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114492814816924319?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114492814816924319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114492814816924319' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114492814816924319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114492814816924319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/04/addiction.html' title='Addiction'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114484768380513931</id><published>2006-04-12T07:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-12T08:14:43.856-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Always the Bad Guy.</title><content type='html'>I've said this many times before.  I accept the responsibility of being the bad guy if it helps alleviate some of her guilt.  But I'm not the one causing her the actual grief and misery.  I'm just the vehicle.  She is extremely happy when we are 'together' - in whatever shape or form that takes.  It's her inability to cope with the circumstances that surround us that dampens the spirit.  The biggest being reminded of the fact that I don't come home to her everyday and I don't wake up to her every morning.  And she reminds herself of that everyday that we talk.  And as much as thoughts of me make her smile through the day, so do they remind her of what can't be.  But these are feelings that I have to live with as well.  And I've learned to cope with them.  I just keep holding out the hope that she might find a way as well.  I know that may never happen if I were to completely disappear.  Call me selfish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I agree with a previous commenter who said that if you measured love, you'd find yourself constantly testing that love.  I believe more in reflections of what you do, and why you do it.  So what's a reflection of my love for Sara?  If she were to get caught, I wouldn't hesitate to make things right.  No matter what that would entail.  And my heart would be 100% behind it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114484768380513931?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114484768380513931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114484768380513931' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114484768380513931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114484768380513931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/04/always-bad-guy.html' title='Always the Bad Guy.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114476036562266483</id><published>2006-04-11T07:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-11T07:59:26.043-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Those Ocassional Nudges</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Kayten&lt;/b&gt;, in an earlier comment, talks about how she feels my nudges make Sara succumb to the pressure she faces, and fights, daily.  I agree to a point, however my nudges only give her an excuse to do what she really wants to do.  Maybe it reduces the guilt if she feels she isn't instigating it?  For what its worth, my nudges &lt;b&gt;are&lt;/b&gt; the result of my succumbing to the almost daily pressure of needing to contact her as well.  So in that respect I guess I do control when those times occur.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the risk of sounding extremely selfish, if I were to walk away from something that I don't want to leave, what's in it for me?  After all, I'm only human.  But give me a little credit for trying to alleviate the pressure from my end.  If I were only considering my wants and my desires, there are probably a lot of things I could be doing, and saying, that would keep her around more often. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For what its worth, I had another perfect opportunity to nudge her.  I was visiting a place she used to frequent often with her kids last year.  It was very difficult being there knowing she could have been there at the same time if she had known.  No, I don't feel good about resisting the urge to nudge her.  I feel regret.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114476036562266483?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114476036562266483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114476036562266483' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114476036562266483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114476036562266483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/04/those-ocassional-nudges.html' title='Those Ocassional Nudges'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114441805638366460</id><published>2006-04-07T08:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-07T08:54:16.420-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In My Defense.</title><content type='html'>&lt;B&gt;VM&lt;/B&gt; left a comment that seems to echo most peoples sentiments and I'd like to try to shine a little more light on what I see was/is the common thread that has bound us together for almost 5 years.  And I'll try not to oversimplify.  Sara never made the conscience decision to have an affair.  Including that very first day.  So on those mornings when she'd wake up and realize her actions were indicative of one, she left me.  No discussion, no goodbyes.  Just left.  Guilt was the driving factor for the most part.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I honestly didn't have a clue why she would come back, and how she resolved the guilt issue, but she did.  Is has only been the past year of blogging and (more recently) her opening herself up totally to me that I came to a better understanding of what brings her back.  Our relationship can be looked upon as very complicated involving many layers.  Or... as I see it.... very simple with actual *gasp* love driving our needs/desires to be with each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's possible her recent insistance on the 'all or nothing' approach is a way to resolve the guilt issue that has constantly plagued her.  If I want her, she is now insisting that I make an honest woman of her.  I do.  Oh gawd how much I want to.  But I can't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114441805638366460?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114441805638366460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114441805638366460' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114441805638366460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114441805638366460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/04/in-my-defense.html' title='In My Defense.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114432804219321922</id><published>2006-04-06T07:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-06T07:54:02.726-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nastya</title><content type='html'>Although I haven't mentioned her in a long while, my sexy Russian friend is still around.  We've become good friends, good enough that she has become comfortable sharing most everything with me.  Good and bad.  No, she hasn't changed her stance on (not) 'dating' married men, but she is very much into finding someone with whom she is interested in marrying.  Her marriage to a Russian professor a few years back fell victim to competing careers, and although she doesn't regret the divorce, I feel she is hearing the clock tick.  Several months ago she became romantically involved with a subordinate 12 years her junior.  When that soured, so did her life.  It was around this time that I had lost touch with her and only recently (couple months) remade the connection with her.  Since then our friendship has grown and so has our honesty with each other.  I recently told her of my (previous) hope that she be a diversion from Sara for me.  And today at lunch she wants an explanation of how or why.  I'm not sure what to tell her that doesn't suggest the need/desire to have sex.  But recently she did mention that its the lack of sex that is partly driving her need to find somebody.  Is this how friends become fuck buddies?  The hope for that type of friendship has never really left my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I still ache to see/hear/touch Sara.  And as I say that my mind has already started formulating a 'plot' for my next attempt to make that happen.  But the presence of Nastya does, and will, keep me from dwelling too long on that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114432804219321922?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114432804219321922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114432804219321922' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114432804219321922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114432804219321922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/04/nastya.html' title='Nastya'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114408877458134097</id><published>2006-04-03T12:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-03T13:30:25.076-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You'd Think I'd Learn.</title><content type='html'>A weekend a while back Sara was going back to her hometown to meet up with a friend and to hopefully meet up with other old friends at the usual old stomping grounds.  Considering its a small town, the chances were pretty good that if her friends were still around, they'd still be hanging at the same places.   As she was driving there she called me to tell me all about the outfit she had bought to wear when she goes out.  Well, after telling her how turned on I had become just picturing her wearing it, I also suggested that it might not be the appropriate thing to wear - considering how small the town was.  I said it sounded perfect to go clubbing in and around the bigger cities, but in a small corner bar it would definately give people an impression of her I'm sure she didn't want to give.  I joked (but actually was serious) that jeans and a tight sweater was all she needed to have the guys drooling over her.  When the conversation ended we both continued merrily on our seperate ways.  So I thought.  Three minutes later she called back and started screaming at me, crying, and screamed some more at me.  She was unbelievably upset.  My comment turned her fantastic, free from the kids, free from her husband, going to party with the girls kinda day and flushed it down the toilet.  I had no intention of doing that, in fact I thought I was being helpful by telling her what I did.  I know how subconscience she gets.  It was obvious she had taken my suggestion as criticism and went off the deep end.  Not only did I get a "fuck you" and a hang up, she called back once more to give me 3 more "fuck you's".  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was not the first, nor was it the last time I was misunderstood when making a comment.  In each of these incidents hindsight taught me why there was a misunderstanding, yet armed with that knowledge, I still manage to invoke like situations. And as long as I care about somebody, that will remain an inevitability.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, how did that previous incident end?  That was the only outfit she brought along so she wound up stopping at a K-mart to buy jeans and a sweater.  She apolgized to me later that night and told me even with that outfit, she still felt a little self-conscience.  BTW, surprisingly it was her husband that picked out the first outfit for her to wear.  What the f! was he thinking?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114408877458134097?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114408877458134097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114408877458134097' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114408877458134097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114408877458134097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/04/youd-think-id-learn.html' title='You&apos;d Think I&apos;d Learn.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114374975838924395</id><published>2006-03-30T14:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-30T15:15:58.566-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What Will It Take?</title><content type='html'>My anger has subsided, as usual, and is replaced with disappointment.  Disappointment in her, and in myself for allowing her to escape once again.  Just what will it take for me to finally let her go?  I understand what 'us' is doing to her, and I understand why she has problems living with my suggested compromises.  But that's the rub.  I look at this as an unsolved problem.  Like the prospect of peace in the Middle East, this relationship has everything stacked against it.  But there is an equitable solution.  Somewhere. Somehow.  I really felt the vacation analogy would help her deal with the reality of it all.  But what she doesn't want to believe is that one of the biggest parts in this reality is the slim to none chance that we will stop wanting each other.  She refuses to address that issue.  She hopes that 'want' will just go away.  And I refuse to be the bad guy that makes that happen.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although it appeared that I lured her into coming back this last time, as it turns out, she was already on her way back.  If she had remembered the password, she would have been back before she even received my package.  You would think she knew I would welcome her back with my arms wide open, yet she has said it's always a concern for her.  She keeps thinking the last time will be when 'enough is enough' with me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote this post mainly to help myself answer this nagging question that's been running through my mind all week.  "Why am I letting her leave again without more of a fight?"  In the past it was because I wanted her 'experience' to be pleasant and free from pressure so that she  would do it again more often.  It couldn't have gotten any more pleasant and pressure-free than it was last week.  Let's see if she comes back sooner.  I hope so because its a whole 4 months before our 5th anniversary.  I can't wait that long to have an excuse to be luring her back again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114374975838924395?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114374975838924395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114374975838924395' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114374975838924395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114374975838924395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/03/what-will-it-take.html' title='What Will It Take?'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114355348044882889</id><published>2006-03-28T08:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-28T08:44:40.510-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Angry.</title><content type='html'>I'm really angry at her right now.  Probably no different than any other time she's left, and it passes, but for some odd reason I'm questioning myself if I even have the right to be (angry).  I look back at the last conversation we had where she had called me (last Thursday).  Since my schedule was wide open, we were going to try to fit in some phone sex.  She called that morning to tell me that her day wasn't looking so good and I told her we'd just play it by ear.  Since I had nothing going on, I'd be available the moment she called if time did open up for her.  No sweat.  Up until this time, I was never expecting a call from her, yet that made 4 days in a row now.  Well, of course, now I was expecting a call.  And it never came.  It would figure.  By late Friday afternoon I was getting that gut feeling so I called her.  Within seconds my fears were allayed since she was very happy to hear from me, and actually fell into her 'seductive' voice.  But the feeling was temporary.  She proceeded to tell me she had thrown away the numbers the day before (not very long after she got off the phone with me).  That's when I knew my fears were correct.  But the conversation was good because she was still all there, and when I got off the phone I was feeling good about things.  Not happy she bailed again, but I was feeling good about our week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The anger set in when I realized (yesterday) that our conversation on that Thursday was intended (by her) to be our last.  Considering it was short and more a 'matter of fact' phone call, that sucks.  Do I have a right to be angry?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114355348044882889?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114355348044882889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114355348044882889' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114355348044882889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114355348044882889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/03/angry.html' title='Angry.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114347924793906497</id><published>2006-03-27T11:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-27T14:46:30.516-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Never Enough.</title><content type='html'>Last Friday I had asked Sara why she made such a big deal about the junk emails, the phone calls, and now her latest concern, snailmail.  I was curious because it either occurs rarely, or not at all.  Well as it turns out I've been looking at it all wrong.  It's not the times that it's actually me.  Its those times when it isn't me.  Every junk email that wasn't from me.  Every 'outsider' phone call that wasn't me.  And now every package she gets that doesn't come from me - are the problem.  Just like long ago when 30 emails a day wasn't 40, why every one phone call wasn't ten, and why our 4 hours in bed wasn't instead a lifetime.  (Most of the blame fell on reality, not on me) It's just never enough.  The real reason she closed out her joint email account was actually so that she could zero her expectations of ever getting an email from me.  And she wishes she could do likewise with her phone, and her home address.  She's not trying to hide from me, she's trying to rid herself of the expectations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say that during this conversation didn't lead where I wanted it to lead.  She told me she had thrown away the phone card numbers because she felt herself getting sucked back in.  Calling me once a day (like she had the whole week) was leaving her feeling empty when we weren't talking.  Actually she said it left her feeling miserable.  It's never enough.  She's gone again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114347924793906497?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114347924793906497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114347924793906497' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114347924793906497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114347924793906497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/03/its-never-enough.html' title='It&apos;s Never Enough.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114314529353379104</id><published>2006-03-23T15:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-23T15:24:07.143-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Double Standard?</title><content type='html'>Around me some women bloggers are getting their lovers back.  There is an outpouring of support from their readers and most of them seem to be happy for them.  Over here, nothing.  Virtual silence.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find that curious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114314529353379104?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114314529353379104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114314529353379104' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114314529353379104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114314529353379104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/03/double-standard.html' title='Double Standard?'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114305807464991396</id><published>2006-03-22T14:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-22T15:07:54.680-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring Fever.</title><content type='html'>Obviously Sara's back in some way.  This will be my 5th post in as many days.  I think the previous 5 took a month to post.  She called me today, looking for phone sex.  Unfortunately for both of us, I was not in the position to comply to her request.  She'll call me again tomorrow if/when she has the free time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did take the opportunity to run the 'vacation' analogy by her.  She agreed that it better explains why I'm more okay with the part-time relationship than she has been.  And said she'd like to get herself into the same frame of mind.  But she did point out the obvious when she said that there are still other issues that would/will complicate that process.  Wanting to change the subject, she then asked me to tell her about my day.  And while doing so, unbeknownest to me at first, she proceeded to pleasure herself to the sound of my voice.  It took every once of energy for me to maintain my composure as I walked back to a class I was attending.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114305807464991396?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114305807464991396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114305807464991396' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114305807464991396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114305807464991396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/03/spring-fever.html' title='Spring Fever.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114303377120039128</id><published>2006-03-22T07:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-22T08:25:14.553-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Vacation</title><content type='html'>Sara surprised me with another call yesterday afternoon.  Her intent was to run out the minutes of our phone card so she could rip up the numbers.  She forgot it was refillable.  lol.  Even though it was a discussion about 'us' again, it was very light-hearted and filled with playful bickering as we tore into each others well-discussed stances on this issue.  She has even come around to my way of thinking when it comes to leaving our marriages.  Since I started to think seriously about it, and with my insistance that we discuss it further, she came to realize on her own that she could not possibly hurt her husband and kids.  And she finally understands how I could love her as much as I say, but still choose my family over her.  That's exactly the conclusion I knew she would come to from just such a discussion.  But the outcome of our talk was still the same.  Try as I might to come up with the perfect analogy, I couldn't convince her of how any good was going to come of a part-time relationship.  She asked that I not take advantage of her new 'openness' by pressuring her.  I told her it was during these times that I was most careful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was replaying our discussion through my mind afterwards, I think I had come up with the analogy I was looking for.  It involves vacation.  Real life cannot be a constant vacation.  Yet we all need one now and then.  Call it a mental health break.  We of course doubt how helpful vacations are when we find ourselves back at work, and not still on the beach somewhere.  It seems a depression starts to set in, yet we get over it, and go back to our normal life.  And then begin to look forward to that next vacation sometime.  That's how I think Sara and I can help each other in our lives.  We can be each other's vacation destination.  The discussions we have before our get together is not unlike the planning of a vacation.  Where to go, and more importantly, what to do - to each other.  The excitement as that time draws near.  Then the feeling of being a million miles away when we're together.  As well as the realties of life just as far away.  Then as we depart, the memories play in our mind as random smiles break across our faces.  As reality slowly creeps back in, so does the depression.  Not unlike the feeling you get when you are back at work.  Why can't it always be like that?  Why don't I change my situation so it always is like that?  But you know the answer involves reality and you adjust back to it.  But soon the anticipation of that next vacation begins to build.  Could it be more perfect than that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114303377120039128?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114303377120039128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114303377120039128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114303377120039128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114303377120039128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/03/vacation.html' title='Vacation'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114294944521414565</id><published>2006-03-21T08:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-21T09:07:16.023-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Is She Back?</title><content type='html'>I'm guessing people are assuming this is the case, or at least wondering.  I'm doing neither.  Not because I'm trying to protect myself from a big fall, but because I listened to her as we talked.  We pretty much agreed that I  understand her need to resist me, and she understands my need to keep her close.  And that reason - for the both of us - is potential regret.  For her the regret is that she hadn't tried hard enough to make her marriage satisfying for her.  That my constant presence took all the necessary energy and incentive away from her.  For me, the regret is not trying hard enough to see her at least one more time.  And one more time after that.  Mixed in with her regret though is the fear that she will instead lament losing me to somebody else.  When she found the account locked last week, that's exactly what she thought happened.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is she back?  I don't think she has ever left.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114294944521414565?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114294944521414565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114294944521414565' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114294944521414565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114294944521414565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/03/is-she-back.html' title='Is She Back?'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114286371726805247</id><published>2006-03-20T08:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-20T10:57:36.236-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It Worked.</title><content type='html'>Sara called me this morning to thank me for her gift.  And my heart is still pounding.  She received it on Saturday but had to hide it before she had a chance to open it.  It worked perfectly.  She caught all the hints and memories that I hide inside and it made her so excited the whole weekend, her husband even asked her what was up.   We had a wonderful conversation, but she's still trying to stay strong.  All her words told me she still wants me, wants us, even if its just part-time.  But her resolve says otherwise.  I asked her how 99% of her 'being' pulls her one way, yet the 1% keeps her on course.  She points to her husband and said she would feel horrible if he were to be living a lie.  I, of course, reminded her that he already is, and unless she can erase me from her mind totally, always will be.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently she was waiting for me to call her all last week.  When Friday came and went without a word from me, she was depressed and even broke down and tried to get into our old joint email account - hoping I left her a birthday wish there.  When she couldn't get into that (she used the wrong password) it just made her more sad.  So receiving the package on Saturday was perfect timing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you remember my last phone conversation with her, I tried to make sure that we kept the conversation lite and casual.  I was hoping that the lack of pressure on my part might make it easier for her to talk more often.  Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, it backfired.  She said it took her almost 2 weeks to get over that call.  Mainly because I sounded distant to her, and that it appeared that I was moving on.  I told her I regretted that as well and promised myself I was not going to hide my feelings if there ever was going to be a next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like today will carry me for forever.  But I know it'll just be a matter of time where I begin to doubt her feelings for me again.  How is that possible?  Am I that insecure?  But I do know, the desire to see her only grows stronger by day.  And I need to see her.  I want to see her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I told her so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114286371726805247?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114286371726805247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114286371726805247' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114286371726805247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114286371726805247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/03/it-worked.html' title='It Worked.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114260331610287982</id><published>2006-03-17T08:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-17T08:48:36.156-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Setup.</title><content type='html'>I apologize for not posting in awhile but I really don't have much to say.  Although I'm doing great, I still have to be careful not to think too much about Sara.  It's very easy for the good memories to head south into wondering how she can now stay away for so long.  Its getting easier for me to doubt her love for me now.  And it's easy for that to lead me into thinking of our bad times.  So I try not to think too much at all.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's her birthday in a few days and I've sent her something in the mail.  I could never send her anything of value, especially when I'm cloaking it as a free gift from some random company.  But I can send her a memory, and that is what I did.  I'd like to be a fly on the wall when she opens it so that I can see her smile.  That's all I need to continue on in a good place.  But the big problem is, I won't be able to see that.  I'll have to imagine it, and that's what is tough.   And yes, as much as it wasn't my intention, I will begin to wonder why she hasn't called to at least thank me for the gift.  Or in some way, send me that smile.   I knowingly set myself up for this, and I'm preparing myself for a big crash.  Any ideas on how I can inflate some emotional airbags?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114260331610287982?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114260331610287982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114260331610287982' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114260331610287982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114260331610287982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/03/setup.html' title='The Setup.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114164828818628411</id><published>2006-03-06T06:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-06T07:37:07.056-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Indicators</title><content type='html'>I'm sure everyone has indicators that are reflective of 'where' they're at when in or out of a relationship.  Makes no difference if its a socially exceptable relationship, or one that's frowned upon, we all have them.  Knowingly or unknowingly.  I've mentioned a few times that one of my big indicators was how good things were with my wife and me.  If Sara and I were good, things with my wife and me were good as well.  It was as simple as - when I'm happy, so was everybody else.  Another indicator I also have is not so simple to understand.  For several years leading up to my first affair, I had become a talk radio person.  For whatever reason, and I had a few, I had found myself hooked on it.  But something happened when I started to think about that other woman.  I started to dust off my heavy metal and big-hair band CD's.  Metallica became my emotional fuel.  Soon I was updating those collections,  catching up on Nirvana, STP, Creed  and discovering Godsmack, Linkin Park, Puddle of Mud and P.O.D.  This continued on through all three affairs, with a peculiar twist during the last 4 years with Sara.  When things were good with us, Metallica was cranking.  When things weren't, you could find either Jimmy Buffett, Country, Jazz or Big Band music on my MP3 player.  Now keep in mind, most of those previously mentioned bands played 'angry' or 'dark' music.  Yet it was my music of choice when I was feeling most alive.  Go figure.  So what am I listening to now?  Well, for the last couple weeks - talk radio.  First time in 7 years.  Have I now come full circle and find myself content with my previous life again?  If so, I find that depressing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114164828818628411?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114164828818628411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114164828818628411' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114164828818628411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114164828818628411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/03/indicators.html' title='Indicators'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114139909573801145</id><published>2006-03-03T10:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-03T10:18:15.770-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Anonymous Comments</title><content type='html'>As much as we appreciate comments to our posts, I really wish the anonymous ones would use a name of some sort.  I can understand if you don't want to create an account, but take a cue from &lt;B&gt;VM&lt;/B&gt; and just tag your comments.  If you really want to help us, and provide insight, its important for us to know that you're not a troller randomly bashing bloggers.  Some of us aren't as eloquent as others when leaving a comment, but having a history with the blogger lends more weight to what you have to say.  Bottom line, we'll know you've been around long enough to at least to have read some of our posts.  And that gives you more credibility.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114139909573801145?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114139909573801145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114139909573801145' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114139909573801145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114139909573801145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/03/anonymous-comments.html' title='Anonymous Comments'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114078347484637773</id><published>2006-02-24T06:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-24T07:20:12.070-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing Much</title><content type='html'>I've got nothing much to say.  I'm still in the same place I was last week and haven't waivered any since then.  I still long for her but its a good feeling - for now.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had wanted to address the issues of affairs but I seemed to have forgotten why.  But since I mentioned that I had had two previous affairs, I guess I could at least synopsize them.  The first was with a married woman I worked with, or rather worked in the same part of the building as me.  I wasn't looking for it, but we became close over time and things took the obvious course.  But it never went past the heavy petting stage, and never extended outside the workplace.  When things seemed like they were heading that way, I freaked and ran.  Disappeared as much as I could considering the situation.  I didn't say more than 10 words to her afterwards and looking back now, I was an asshole.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the thrill of having that 'second' life never left me.  Less than a year later, another woman moved into my office.  Her name was Monica.  She was married as well.  I did set my sights on her.  Within a couple weeks we became good friends and we both put out enough signals that we wanted to take this farther.  And we did.  She was perfect.  Looks of a model, but a personality like 'one of the guys'.  She was the party-type, but still exuded a lot of class.  I didn't realize it at that time but looking back at the relationship we could pretty much call ourselves fuck buddies.  We never let it spill outside of the workplace/time environment.  It was the perfect situation.  I was still with her when I met Sara.  I wasn't looking for another affair - I was in the perfect one already.  But it was too late because I had already fallen for her.  With Monica, we always told of our exploits over the past weekend, and so I told her about Sara.  Not that I had fallen for her, only just what had gone on.  But she must of have seen it in my eyes, and considering our emails starting falling off between us, she decided to dump me.  I realized then that she had a more emotional attachment to me than she had let on, and I felt bad that I didn't see it.  I probably would have responded in kind.  I apologized to her for being so insensitive and asked her to reconsider.  I told her I needed her to keep me from getting dragged in deeper with Sara.  Yeah, I really did say that.  I meant it in the most sincere, and flattering way, but boy was that a dumb thing to say.  &lt;br /&gt;*** side note - I hadn't had the benefit of insider knowledge from you woman bloggers yet, so be a little more understanding. ;) ***  &lt;br /&gt;We're still friends, in fact she sits just 50 feet away from me, and to this day she still gives out signals that she wants to try again.  But I just follow her lead, and each time it's straight into a closed door.  To this day I'm still wanting her to keep me from getting dragged in too deep with Sara.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much for not having much to say.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114078347484637773?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114078347484637773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114078347484637773' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114078347484637773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114078347484637773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/02/nothing-much.html' title='Nothing Much'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10627394.post-114009652737925222</id><published>2006-02-16T07:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-16T08:28:47.420-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Much Better.</title><content type='html'>Well, as you can tell from my previous post, something snapped.  And from the condition I was in, I was really dreading the long ride home I had in front of me.  As busy as I try to be, there's not much to occupy your mind when you're on a long drive.  And my cellphone was going to be the enemy.  I even thought about leaving it behind at work so that I wouldn't do anything stupid.  Instead I just put it in the trunk and hit the road.  An odd thing happened.  I smiled the whole way home.  And not the kind of smile you would see on a crazed person, lol.  All of the nice things Sara's said to me in our last few conversations (as well as emails) all surfaced at once.  Totally out of the blue. It was the damndest thing.  She was the last person I intended to have on my mind at that time.  But I've been here before.  I just need to stay here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10627394-114009652737925222?l=willshebeback.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/feeds/114009652737925222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10627394&amp;postID=114009652737925222' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114009652737925222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10627394/posts/default/114009652737925222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://willshebeback.blogspot.com/2006/02/much-better.html' title='Much Better.'/><author><name>do_in_it_2</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04478061416304398487</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry></feed>
