My husband and I shared a wonderful companionship until she came and tainted it with her dreaded omnipresence. During the years of blissful togetherness that we once lived, I had every reason to believe that I mattered to him above everything else. But now, as unpleasant as it gets, for no fault of mine, I have come to realise that if there’s anything that captures his attention, no matter where he is, it is she and she alone. Her ubiquity truly exasperates me.
Much as I despise her, she has successfully managed to intrude upon our sacred space and contaminate our lives that once thrived on spending quality time with each other. It all started with networking and the innumerable contacts one establishes at work and beyond. It was his work that introduced my workaholic husband to her and since then things have never been the same. Much to my grief and disappointment, he and she are now inseparable.
I notice in him the deep urge to connect with her the moment he leaves his bed in the morning. Often when he returns home after a long day at work, I greet him with the warmest hug and she invariably pings him at such times. He, then conveniently crawls to the quietest corner of the house and talks tirelessly with her while I grudgingly attend to the ritual of preparing a strong coffee for him. My deep, hidden desires have often been to pour the steaming liquid on her gleaming body, but I don’t think I shall ever get myself to do that and even if I do , that’ll be the end of my wifely status.
Even the kids, whom he dotes upon, do not dare to go to their dad when he’s with her. Now, I rarely receive his undivided attention, yet whenever I ever do, I try talking to him about his distraction but it is a vain effort and he often gags me retorting sharply that she is his lifeline. His words evoke in me a devilish urge to hurl her down the 25th floor of the building that I live on.
Things have now become so blatant that even at public gatherings and parties, he holds her gently, protectively, and audaciously moves with her to a remote corner whispering softly into her ear, oblivious of the crowd. Matters have taken a plunge ever since I’ve discovered her on our bed a few times.
In the ensuing lamentation , I have managed to put up a brave front and haven’t ever spoken about her even to my closest friends. Any advice from them will be obviously to ignore her and keep myself engaged more and more in my own work. Yet, each time I see her petite frame in her resplendent black garb and shiny black jacket, the agony is too much to bear.
However, after much introspection, I have now come to accept the fact that she and I have to coexist. She is as much a part of my husband’s life as I am. For, though I am his life partner, it is she who holds his world together. I also know that he cannot do without either of us. Yet, folks if you have any suggestions or advice on helping me getting less vexed in her presence, do let me know. She, Ms Blackberry, the small, black, minuscule gadget that brings the world to him, anytime, anywhere, at the click of a button has surely infringed upon mine, that I share with the man who still means the world to me.
Technologically dejected
Painfully yours…….
Much as I despise her, she has successfully managed to intrude upon our sacred space and contaminate our lives that once thrived on spending quality time with each other. It all started with networking and the innumerable contacts one establishes at work and beyond. It was his work that introduced my workaholic husband to her and since then things have never been the same. Much to my grief and disappointment, he and she are now inseparable.I notice in him the deep urge to connect with her the moment he leaves his bed in the morning. Often when he returns home after a long day at work, I greet him with the warmest hug and she invariably pings him at such times. He, then conveniently crawls to the quietest corner of the house and talks tirelessly with her while I grudgingly attend to the ritual of preparing a strong coffee for him. My deep, hidden desires have often been to pour the steaming liquid on her gleaming body, but I don’t think I shall ever get myself to do that and even if I do , that’ll be the end of my wifely status.
Even the kids, whom he dotes upon, do not dare to go to their dad when he’s with her. Now, I rarely receive his undivided attention, yet whenever I ever do, I try talking to him about his distraction but it is a vain effort and he often gags me retorting sharply that she is his lifeline. His words evoke in me a devilish urge to hurl her down the 25th floor of the building that I live on.
Things have now become so blatant that even at public gatherings and parties, he holds her gently, protectively, and audaciously moves with her to a remote corner whispering softly into her ear, oblivious of the crowd. Matters have taken a plunge ever since I’ve discovered her on our bed a few times.
In the ensuing lamentation , I have managed to put up a brave front and haven’t ever spoken about her even to my closest friends. Any advice from them will be obviously to ignore her and keep myself engaged more and more in my own work. Yet, each time I see her petite frame in her resplendent black garb and shiny black jacket, the agony is too much to bear.
However, after much introspection, I have now come to accept the fact that she and I have to coexist. She is as much a part of my husband’s life as I am. For, though I am his life partner, it is she who holds his world together. I also know that he cannot do without either of us. Yet, folks if you have any suggestions or advice on helping me getting less vexed in her presence, do let me know. She, Ms Blackberry, the small, black, minuscule gadget that brings the world to him, anytime, anywhere, at the click of a button has surely infringed upon mine, that I share with the man who still means the world to me.
Technologically dejected
Painfully yours…….
