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Sex Love and Obesity Part 13

In Sex Love and Obesity Part 12 – Peter had decided to move to North Carolina so that we could begin our life together. It was April now and Peter and I were just about to move in together.

I admittedly wasn’t handling things very well. My life was an emotional roller coaster. I had relapsed into smoking cigarettes again the previous June & July when the grief of Father’s Day and the Anniversary of my Dad passing away rolled around. I was in a cycle where anytime I got stressed, I rushed out bought a pack of cigarettes, chain smoked them all and then quit again. In my mind it was better than stress eating Twinkies and Cheetos.

We had one more trip together planned before he moved in. We were headed back to Disney to do a Half Marathon alongside a couple of my friends.

That trip turned into a bit of a fiasco when I didn’t do everything he wanted.

I am pretty sure we had an argument each day we were there. He’d get upset if I decided to have a drink when he wasn’t having one. He threw a temper tantrum when I snuck an e-cigarette I was using to try to quit smoking again into the bathroom of our hotel room after I had conceded to not used it when he bribed me with the promise of a Tinker Bell Pandora charm he knew I wanted as a “reward”.

He told my friends that I was mean to him and that I wasn’t supportive enough at the finish line of our half marathon. That was probably true. I was frustrated. We had ended up walking the last 6 miles because he had done everything I told him not to do; Not getting enough rest. Drinking alcohol the night before an event. Running faster than he should in the first 5 miles because the adrenaline levels are high and in turn, teetering out on the tail end as a result.

I was angry. He had asked me to re-arrange my entire run schedule so that he could be with me for my 26th half marathon, a number that was monumental to me, because it was important to him that he was a part of that 26th half marathon with me. I had done so to please him. Yet the entire time we were running it was all about him and not at all about me. Never once during the entire event did he even acknowledge that it was my 26th half marathon.

I enjoy taking other people to run their first half marathon. I don’t mind running someone else’s pace with them. But if I had known how this all was going to go down, I definitely would have saved that marathon of marathons for my own race. I ended up resenting him for stealing the thunder of that experience from me. I wasn’t the typical cheerleader and motivator I would have been because of it. He whined about the entire experience to one of my dearest friends at the finish line.

Later that night he told me that my friends were concerned about me and thought I had a drinking problem when we all went out to celebrate together at a fancy Disney dining experience and I had a little too much to drink. Something that to this day, both my dear friends swear they never said.

One of my friends didn’t quite have the happy ending she wanted at the Half Marathon. She was a little embarrassed about it at first and didn’t want anyone to know. We had plans to run a half marathon together a month later. He convinced her that she shouldn’t run with me on our next half together because it would ruin the run for me. Then in a later conversation where she didn’t agree with what he said, he threatened to tell all our friends that she didn’t get the finish time she wanted at the Half Marathon we had all done together and embarrass her.

You’d think, all this would have made me go, wait a second, what the heck is wrong with this guy. But he loved me, and I REALLY wanted someone to love me. He wanted me, and I REALLY wanted someone to want me. We had amazing sex, and my life was just way overdue for amazing sex.

I let it all go and accepted whatever blame was laid on me for how he behaved.

I accepted the excuses, reasons and tireless explanations he gave for why he acted the way he acted and trudged on.

May ended up being a nightmare month in our relationship – perhaps a foreshadowing of things to come. It started with a fight while I was away for a weekend with my girlfriends running the Diva Half Marathon when he berated me for not spending enough time on the phone with him practicing my presentation for an upcoming convention. He really didn’t handle me being on me own and with my friends well at all.

A couple of weeks later I was off to Disneyland to run the Tinker Bell Half Marathon. It was the first Disney trip I was doing without him. I’d had it planned for over 9 months. He knew about it forever. It was an all-girls trip. One of the girls in our group was sharing a time share apartment suite with us and none of us had to pay for the room. But he had never been to Disneyland, he was jealous he wasn’t going, and he made a nuisance of himself the entire time I was there.

We fought until I was in tears. I can’t even remember what we fought over, this sort of thing was quickly becoming our normal. My friend and I were so twisted up about it that we were timid to even go into the park and post photos of it for fear he’d get jealous, get upset with us and have a temper-tantrum about it.

That trip ended with an epic argument when he found out that one of my friends had invited me to go run the Princess Half Marathon with her the following February. He didn’t want me to go on another Disney trip without him. It would be another girls weekend; he didn’t feel like I could afford it, and he was jealous that I had the opportunity to do another Disney run where I didn’t have to pay for a hotel room to go.

When I told him that she had also offered me a spot in her room in Paris for the Inaugural Paris Disney half marathon and I was going to try to do that too, he flipped his lid. We spent the entire evening on the phone fighting with me in hiding in the bathroom crying rather than spending the time with my friends.

NashvilleI left that trip and headed to Nashville TN for a weight loss convention that I was scheduled to speak at.

On social media, the posts would have made you think that everything was perfect. You would have thought that he was super supportive and ridiculously proud of me.

This is a great example of how when you’re following someone on social media, you’re only reading what someone wants you to know. I wasn’t about to post about what was going on and cause more conflict and more arguments, so I stayed silent about what was happening in the background.

In reality, behind the social media posts, I was getting emotionally sandblasted for securing a sponsorship to Paris that didn’t include him. In private messages our friends were getting an earful of how and why he didn’t want me to go to Paris. Then when he was done talking to them, I was getting emotionally bombarded with how none of our friends thought I should go in an attempt to change my mind about the trip.

I almost told him not to bother moving to North Carolina.

I almost pulled the plug on the entire relationship right then. I felt smothered. I felt controlled. I didn’t like the fact that appeared as though the relationship became volatile anytime I was doing something without him.

But he talked me out of that with reasons and explanations for why he behaved the way he did. Once again, desperate for the love and affection and blinded by the amazing sex, I accepted them.

But it only got worse, and it got worse fast.

Things were already a financial mess for me before he moved in. My hours had been cut drastically at my job starting in the beginning of May and I had taken a second job working as a cashier at a grocery store to try to make ends meet. I was working from 8am to 8pm almost every day. I was stressed out beyond belief, trying not to let anyone see me falling apart, and then just a few days before Peter was supposed to arrive, one of my nearest and dearest friends passed away.

I don’t do grief well. We’ve established this. I came home from work early that day, called in to my second job, and watched Clark pack up the rest of his things to move out of the apartment while I drowned myself in a bottle and chain smoked my way through my emotions.

I had a few days alone in the apartment, only I don’t do alone very well either, so I asked one of my close friends to come over. We decided to have a little girls night pity party. She was going through some pretty horrific relationship issues at the time. A girl’s night was just what we needed.

She was supposed to come over the next morning and help us unload the truck when he got there. But we’d been drinking, and I didn’t want her to drive. I suggested she just spend the night and already be there in the morning to help us unpack. Peter called from the road and the next fight ensued when he wanted me to ask my friend to leave. He wanted time alone with me. Of course, he still wanted her to come back later and help unpack the truck. My friend wasn’t impressed.

Of course, there were good reasons for his lack of appreciation and gratitude towards someone who was about to do him a favor, and we should understand that. All he wanted was a little time alone with me when he first arrived in his new home. Translation: He wanted to have sex as soon as he got there. Not to mention he was going to buy us sushi for lunch as a thank you. He got his way, we had the rug burns to show for it.

After listening to the argument taking place on the phone, my friend decided to leave the house and give him what he wanted. She didn’t want me upset and fighting over her being at the house. This argument set the precedent for how my friends handled my relationship with Peter. In the months to come, they would simply avoid being around, avoiding inviting me to do anything that didn’t involve him because they didn’t want to put me through the argument that would arise if they did. This ended up meaning I was pretty much isolated from my friends, because either they invited us both or they didn’t invite me, and they really just didn’t want to be around him.

Throughout June and most of July we spent half the time peacefully enjoying our new life together and the other half fighting. It was a roller coaster of amazingly high highs and dramatically low lows. Our arguments centered around me wanting him to be a responsible adult and unpack the boxes of stuff he had brought and filled the spare bedroom that was supposed to be my home office with.

We fought about me wanting him to get things done around the house and be out looking for work rather than gallivanting around a new town, taking in the scenery and going on long bike rides. He wanted time to have fun before he got a job and was working constantly. I wanted the house in order and wanted him to have a job that was bringing in money before the modest savings he had moved with ran out.

We had very different priorities. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was right. Maybe the truth lied somewhere in the middle. But no matter who was right, we were wrong together and that was starting to become abundantly clear.

Stay tuned for Sex Love and Obesity Part 14 – Sex, Drugs, Alcohol and ExerciseDSSPostSig

Pandora Williams author of Desperately Seeking Slender is an ISSA Certified Personal Trainer and Cooper Institute Approved Wellness Coach Trained in Weight Management Strategies. Her training and coaching services are offered exclusively through GoGirl Fitness Studio.


Sex Love and Obesity Part 12

Previously on Sex Love and Obesity – Part 11 we left of with me falling in love with Peter. Love happens when you least expect it, it’s not something you decide to feel, it’s just suddenly there and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about.

I lied to everyone around me. I didn’t tell my closest friends that we had slept together. I didn’t admit that I was in love. At the time I thought I was doing it because I was ashamed.  I still hadn’t filed for a divorce. It was complicated, the financial ties made it nearly impossible. I was still living with Clark (Superman) and not telling him the truth about how I felt or how things had changed.

I realize now that I was lying because I was looking for validation. I was sharing only the pieces I wanted people to know because I wanted them to help me convince myself that loving Peter was a good idea. I wanted them to help me make myself feel safe in giving my heart away.

I got back on a plane two weeks later and went to see Peter for Christmas.

That trip was as wonderous as the last one had been. It was magical. The grandiose gestures of romance continued to impress me. The yellow roses were there waiting for me again.

A few weeks earlier we had a conversation while I was cooking, we had discovered with both hated cilantro. “I hate Cilantro too Pandora, will you marry me? We’re perfect for each other,” he, I realized later only half way joked. I had countered with, “Before I ever considering marrying anyone else they are going to have to give me a list of 100 reasons why I should.”

On this trip I was gifted with a beautifully hand-written journal of 100 reasons why we should be together. It was these sorts of thoughtful, above the top gestures of love that kept winning my heart. Nobody had ever tried so hard to get my attention and affection. I had never been courted like this.

The more we together the more certain I was that he was Prince Charming and that “happily ever after” wasn’t some mystical unattainable fairy tale ending.

When I left Peter that second time, I was convinced that I would be moving there.

Two weeks later we were at Disneyworld for a magical 12-day Disney Vacation. I had 6 days at Disney planned while I did the Dopey Challenge, he had an Anniversary/Birthday trip with his soon to be ex-wife that hadn’t taken place that he decided to add-on to my stay so that he could come cheer me on as I took on my first marathon. “You’re always supporting others for their first big finish line, someone needs to be there for yours,” that’s what he told me when he suggested that we combine our trips.

You can’t spend 12 days in the most magical place on earth with a new-found love a NOT feel like a princess. That trip was amazing. Again, everything was perfect. He stood at my finish lines with race signs that made other ladies stop at take pictures. “On a scale of 1-10 my Princess is a 13.1.” He tapped my ankles, he gave me an ice bath to help my muscles recover from running 48.6 miles in 4 days.

By the time it was over, I was 100% convinced I was going to move to Massachusetts to be with him. In fact, we planned another trip so that I could start looking for a job. I was so smitten, so in love, so lost in all the romantic gestures. I really wasn’t paying attention or looking for any early warning signs that things might not be as perfect as I thought they were. You know what they say, love makes you look at things with rose-colored glasses.

We had our first fight right before that Disney trip.

It was an argument about money. He was annoyed that I complained about finances so much. In fairness, so far, he had paid for nearly everything we had done together. I struggled to save money for the things I really wanted but prioritized them. He didn’t agree with my priorities. He questioned whether I really needed another $75.00 running skirt or another $25.00 tank top to match it. I questioned why what I did with the money I had set aside as spending money was any of his business.

The argument had started because I had complained that I had to pay more than I had expected toward the household grocery budget when Clark was a little short that month. It meant I would have less spending money than I had wanted for the trip. It got a little ugly when Peter started to tell me how I needed to tell Clark how to budget and spend his money and I dug my heels in the sand and said that what Clark did with his money was no more my business than what I did with my money was Peter’s business. None of us were married, none of us were in relationships where our finances were combined.

We’d gotten through the argument unscathed.

Couples have arguments; it’s natural. We worked it out. I had chalked it up to a new relationship and learning how each other view things, what the expectations are. My expectations were that until we moved past “dating” and “living together” and got to the point that he was changing my last name, my finances were just that, my finances. If I could pay my part of the bills, hold up to any financial agreements we made together, what I did with my money was my business. His expectations were different. I’m not him, so I can’t say for sure what his expectations were, but to me it felt like from the moment we decided to start dating I was suddenly expected to combine our incomes into one big pool.

When I got back from Disney I found out that things at work were going to be changing. My hours were going to be getting cut in half. It made the prospect of relocating to Massachusetts even more appealing.

We started bickering more often. I couldn’t really tell you about what. Little tiny arguments here and there. I blamed most of it on the distance between us and an unspoken insecurity I felt existed but would get better when we were together on a regular basis.

It was enough that when I went to Massachusetts to look for jobs and realized that I wasn’t really at a place in my career where I could get the sort of job I really wanted, it made the thought of leaving a place where I was a big fish in a little pond instead of a little fish in a big pond much less attractive. The tiny little arguments gave me a reason to pause, to dig my heels in the sand and reconsider the leap of faith I was about to take.

Of course, when I was in Massachusetts, when I was with Peter, all the magic was there. I didn’t want to give that up. I was convinced we were in love. I really had no doubt about that. But, I thought we were moving too fast. Making big life decisions that I wasn’t 100% sure we should be making. I wanted to press pause, wait a year, see how life played out and make sure we were making the right choices for the right reasons.

Peter refused to do that. He didn’t want to wait. He most definitely didn’t want to be in a long-distance relationship. Even more he didn’t want to be in a long-distance relationship with someone who was living with one man, married to another, trying to tie up the loose ends of her life. I was nowhere near ready for a big commitment, but he was pretty much demanding all or nothing and choosing nothing and risking losing that magic chemistry we had when we were in bed together wasn’t an option I was willing to consider. Because in case I didn’t make this clear before, the sex was amazing.

Instead of me moving to Massachusetts he decided to move to North Carolina. I asked Clark to move out when our lease was up at the end of May and Peter and I started planning happily ever after.

Only happily ever after didn’t end up being happy at all.

Stay tuned for Sex Love and Obesity Part 13 – Happily Ever After Took A Nose Dive.DSSPostSig

Pandora Williams author of Desperately Seeking Slender is an ISSA Certified Personal Trainer and Cooper Institute Approved Wellness Coach Trained in Weight Management Strategies. Her training and coaching services are offered exclusively through GoGirl Fitness Studio.
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Author: Pandora Williams

Author of Desperately Seeking Slender

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