Yesterday, when I got to the office, there was an email from my husband titled “Physical Relationship.”
Yes, my husband sent a bombshell of a personal email to my business email that I would receive when I arrived at work.
The email was interesting if for no other reason that it began by comparing him to the dog (I am not EVEN going to go there). It also gave a summary of his version of the Big Sex Blowup of 2016 (all my fault, of course – he was the very picture of reason) and about how he’s so afraid to approach me for sex because it’s so obvious I don’t want sex (true) and shouldn’t we just strive for a platonic relationship since that’s all he can really hope for?
Since I was at work and have enough consideration for his business and his employees, and since I knew he would browbeat me until I responded, my answer was curt and to the point:
I don’t even know how to reply to this. Your memories of what happened when we had that blowup about sex – especially the aftermath – are so different from mine that I’m totally at a loss as to how to proceed.
What kind of cooperation can I reasonably expect in the event of a divorce? I don’t believe you’d settle for a platonic relationship in the long run.
It took a few exchanges – he wanted to ignore the question – but he finally asked me if I was asking for a divorce. I said, “Yes.”
It took till this morning to even get him to discuss it (if you call shouting and gaslighting a discussion), which was good since I knew for a fact he was sober. At one point he did ask if there was anything he could do to “make it all better.”
“Make it all better?” I asked. “No. But if you want to know if there’s anything you can do that will at least table the subject of divorce for the time being, yes there is. You know what it is, and you won’t do it.”
Which just took us back on the merry-go-round again. At one point he said, “You haven’t even noticed how much less I’m drinking these days, do you?”
“Sure I have, of the alcohol that’s in the house. You haven’t been drinking that much at all lately. Are you telling me that you’re not drinking out of that bottle you’ve got hidden in the garage?”
He mumbled and fumbled around until he admitted that yes, he is drinking out of the bottle he has hidden in the garage. He also admitted over the course of the morning that he has no intention of seeking any sort of professional help for his problem, nor will he attend any sort of meeting on a regular basis, even the SMART Recovery meeting, because it’s too inconvenient to “have every Wednesday evening scheduled like that.”
I told him that since he had no intention of quitting, he’s choosing to put alcohol before our marriage. We argued over that for a minute, and by the time we’d reached the office I told him I’d had enough, and yes – I still want a divorce.
We’ll see how things go from here. I could find myself out on the street if he decides to get ugly about it. Since I have asked him several times what kind of reasonable cooperation I can expect and have received no answer, I don’t think being booted out of the house with nothing is an impossibility.