Room Inside a Box

"There is no room inside a box." ~Doug Pinnick

Location: Tamaqua, Pennsylvania, United States

I started this blog as a soundboard for some much needed therapy during my separation with my wife throughout much of 2005. It was truly a blessing to get my thoughts out there through the writing process. Thankfully things have worked out between us. I would have continued to blog, but ever since I started my teaching career, I have found it impossible to do as much blogging as I would like to. So now I hope to periodically post as time and energy allow.

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Fun Things to do for Lovers

The above title was an actual Internet search my wife did today while I was at work. I know this because I save web pages in my history folder and check it from time to time. She also searched for "romantic things in Philadelphia," "when do new jersey beaches close?" and "fun things for lovers," as well as "most romantic songs" and "great getaways in Pennsylvania." One might conclude that this is pretty cool, that yours truly is in for some nice surprises. You might wish that your spouse would read this and take notes. I might even be excited by this sudden burst of romantic enthusiasm. But I'm not.

Because my wife doesn't live with me. And she has stated on many occasions that we are through and that it's over and I need to move on.

You see, we've been separated since November of last year. She did move back in sometime in February, but that was under false pretenses that she wanted to work things out. In reality she was forced to move out of whatever apartment she was living in at the time. She wasn't ready to move back in with me and work on our marriage, so her moving in just exacerbated many of our underlying issues that were never fully resolved.

And now this. This is even worse than the time I went to go to As soon as I typed in "di", showed up underneath my address bar. At least back then I was pretty sure she wasn't sleeping with anybody. But I guess I can now take off those rose-colored glasses.

I feel like Leopold Bloom, wandering the streets of Dublin seeing here and there the man his wife was fucking, trying over and over again to rid his mind of the images of Molly in the arms of another. I've always loved Ulysses, but now through the shittiest of circumstances I am unwillingly deepening my appreciation for some of this novel's pathos. I've asserted time and time again that the book is--among many other things--a glorified love story. I am now sadly seeing the naivete of my previous affirmation.

You know how people say, "My heart is heavy"? Well, as I was viewing these searches for the first time I felt a force squeezing my heart and weighing it down. I actually felt a physical sensation. And I always thought that was just a saying.


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