Seasons of Love

I rue the day my husband fell in love with another.

He’s enamored. Bewitched.

He’s still in our marriage, but things have changed. Priorities have shifted to reflect this new passion.

And I cannot compete for his attention. I know that.

At first, I thought maybe it was just a midlife fling, a flash in the pan. That it would pass.

I thought maybe, him being Irish, there is some exotic draw that will fade, and he’ll eventually lose interest.

But he’s just gone deeper and deeper in. I have had to come to accept this new love of his.

I suppose I could leave him or demand he let this love go.

I try to tell myself that I cannot be his everything. To think of this other love as more of a hobby.

(I’ve always encouraged him to get one…be careful what you ask for.)

But it’s more than that, and in my heart I know it.

And yes, it is humbling to know that he wants to spend time with his other love.

She’s a demanding mistress. The appetite on that one! It seems bottomless at times.

Ah well. What can I do? It gives him such pleasure.

I’ve even tried to join in. That really didn’t work.

So I’ve begun to turn to my own dalliances.

Does this make ours an Open Marriage? Perhaps. I try not to be jealous, but it’s hard not to notice his level of excitement at times.

I am powerless over this, and I accept it.

I accept that my husband has another relationship, a deep love.

With American sports.

Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt: enamored

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