I’m an idiot …

I’m an idiot and don’t deserve my wife.  Not the type of idiot who can’t read or do basic maths or who couldn’t do one of those logic puzzles in the Sunday paper mind you; I’m the type of educated idiot who is supposedly smart, but doesn’t think about what he’s doing or the consequences of those actions.  As a result of my actions, I’ve hurt the person who loves me most—the person that I should be protecting and taking care of, not hurting.  I’ve created uncertainty and fear and depression and sadness and anger where there was only love.  Through black emotional alchemy I’ve been able to turn love and trust and admiration into fear and uncertainty and hurt and anger.

I adore my wife.  She’s everything that’s right about life and right about this world.  She’s the only person who has every truly known me—everything about me—and she still loves me.  She loves me in a way that’s personal and magical and whimsical and bone-deep.  When I come home in a black mood, it only needs seeing her bouncing up and down at the window as I walk up the pavement to totally cheer me up.  Being loved by Gemma is like being wrapped up in a warm blanket—calming, comforting and delicious.  That perfect love of hers is what I’ve managed to tarnish. 

When I made comments to Jamie and Jill, I never stopped to consider their effect on Gemma.  I didn’t think, period.  Had I thought, I’d  never have pressed the send button.  Because I did press send, Gemma feels like she looks stupid.  She feels like Jamie and Jill must think less of her because I did something stupid.  Well they shouldn’t.  They should think that Jeb is stupid for damaging the most magical, wonderful thing that’s ever happened to him.  Jeb is a fool for causing hurt to the most incredible human being he’s ever met is what they should be thinking.  They should wonder how anyone as thick as Jeb ever managed to convince this incredible woman to marry him in the first place. 

Gemma feels tarnished herself.  She feels belittled and degraded, like she’s somehow worth less—like she’s next instead of first.  Well she’s not.  She’s first and last and everything in-between.  Gemma is all.  She’s everything I ever wanted and more.  She’s the shiny toy that you pick out of the catalogue and then mither your mum and dad to get you and ask Santa for.   As you open your presents on Christmas morning, you just keep hoping every present you open that this is going to be “it”.  Well I’ve got my “it”.  I feel like I’ve won the lottery.  I wake up every morning happy and amazed that I’m lucky enough to be spending my life with the pink-haired bint who’s lying beside me.  Jamie and Jill are nice people, but I’d not take 10 years with either of them in place of 1 second with Gemma.  She’s the one I choose, She’s the one I want.  As thick and stupid as I can be, I got incredibly lucky to find her and I intend to keep her.

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