My boyfriend and I have been happily together for almost three years now. That being said, we have been in a unique situation for the entirety of those three years.
To start with, we are 27 years apart in age (gasp!). Legit, we are rockin’ Celine Dion and Rene.
Additionally, he co-parents (so GOOP) his two children with his ex-wife, and when we met, living together was still the best option for them in order to make that successful. Oh, and I use the word ex-wife lightly, as the two are not officially divorced; they are separated.
Don’t feel bad if you just thought to yourself that I must be an innocent young woman caught in the ruse of an opportunist older man promising me things that will never occur. It really is what it is in this case, and I’m OK with it for the most part.
Initially the ex-wife accepted my presence around the house. We had wine and coffee, judged each other, she threw around passive-aggressive comments, and it was your basically functional ex-wife/ new girlfriend relationship.
ALL of that went out the door when her son accidentally sent some heart emojis intended for me to her phone. The kid actually had the audacity to tell his mom they were meant for me, not her. I am truly impressed by the ability of a 7-year-old to remain oblivious to an obvious social fuck-up.
Never underestimate the power of the emoji.
Her daughter and I had also begun spending alone time together and developing a friendship. The closer her kids got to me, the more she hated me. I really can't blame her. Her ex-husband and kids loved me and were spending a lot of time with me, often leaving her as the outsider.
As my boyfriend and his ex-wife were both developing new relationships, continuing the living situation became seriously awkward, and they decided it was time for a DIVORCE. However, she also decided that under no circumstance was I to be at the house, and that she didn't want me spending time with her kids.
But it’s over, right? People move out when they get divorced, because yes.
Their marriage was never really your white dress affair to begin with. They are both from a war-torn country and moved to the USA to escape a problematic life, which her father would only allow if they got married. It was a semi-arranged marriage and she never really lived on her own or did anything herself for that matter.
That is the logical side of my brain speaking. The part of me really tries to put myself in her shoes and understand her position.
But then over a year passed after they made the “decision” to divorce. A year of papers being drafted, condos supposedly being looked at, and overall plans of departure being put in place and never coming to fruition.
The plan was that boyfriend would keep the house and she would buy a new place where the kids would stay half of the time. But, she just wouldn’t leave. I expressed my frustrations countless times, but my boyfriend did not feel comfortable leaving the house and potentially forfeiting living with his children. Their life was at a stalemate.
While I'm understanding of their situation, my sympathy only extends a certain distance. I have catered to her schedule, and essentially planned my relationship around her.
When I wasn't allowed at the house anymore, he would come over to my house. Sometimes he would bring the kids as well, as I refused to give up my relationship with them regardless of his ex-wife's desires. I moved closer to his house so we could make it work more easily. Otherwise, we would just go do something outside of the house so we could all be together.
This is something I am willing to do for his kids, but for her I reach my limit. My boyfriend and I can't can't be completely together as long as she continues living in the house.
So I went into my closet, put on my Hillary Clinton pantsuit and implemented Mission Infiltration. I gave up caring about her rules and trying to avoid conflict with her.
I pretty much just started coming over whenever I wanted. She shouldn’t have been there, after all. I was hoping she would get sick of me being around and just get out already.
One of those evenings, she was out for the night and not coming back, so I came over to stay as I often did. The kids were sleeping, so we went upstairs, it got late, things got hot and he started giving me oral sex.
I heard the door opening and keys.
SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!
Should we stop? My boyfriend sleeps upstairs in a loft area so if she were to come up the stairs, we would be completely exposed.
I could hear her downstairs walking around as she went for the fridge and a cigarette. I pulled on his head, and tried to grab my clothes because my heart was literally going to fall out of my chest any second now and not because I was getting oral sex. In a moment of passion, the least sexy thing to think about is that your boyfriend's wife might come up the stairs.
He continued, and I could smell her cigarette as she smoked on the patio just below the window next to me. I thought to myself in that moment how tired I was of her presence controlling everything I did.
Although I could quite literally smell her while having sex with my boyfriend, I decided, fuck it, if she comes up here and sees what we are doing, maybe she will finally have had enough and that will be the end of it all. I was taking my chances.
I came in the most fantastic way imaginable and I fell asleep next to my boyfriend, my heart still beating like a madwoman. I presume that she fell asleep in her room downstairs without the slightest idea of what had happened just above her.
The next morning, as I crept down the stairs feeling accomplished, her door was open and I could see her face as each step creaked louder. Meanwhile I was praying to every deity known that her eyelids didn’t open.
I made it to safety outside without having to explain myself. If she had seen me, nothing really would have happened, but I prefer a cappuccino on a Saturday morning to utter horror.
There is something oddly satisfying about not letting someone else come between you and what you want. I wanted that orgasm and not even an ex-wife (a live-in one at that) was going to stop me.
It felt like sweet revenge in a twisted way for all of the nasty looks and hell she put my boyfriend through.
Her hypocrisy became evident recently when things became more serious with her boyfriend. She has started bringing him over to the house for dates, and he even sleeps over. My boyfriend has even come home multiple times to find her boyfriend just hanging out alone at the house. She violates every rule she instilled about having significant others at their shared home.
Nonetheless, divorce papers were finally signed and supposedly she is moving out in the next month or so. For now, we are all trying to interact cordially to make these next few weeks go smoothly.
If she doesn't move out this time, I will definitely have to reconsider my relationship with my boyfriend. Although we have a great relationship, enjoy our time together and are very much in love, surviving under these circumstances isn't easy, and definitely grounds for a break-up.
If all else fails, I’m letting my boyfriend try on the pantsuit, since Hillary’s balls are bigger than his.