Part 1-The beginning, where he tell's me it's the end...

He says he doesn't want to be married to me anymore!

He says he doesn't love me anymore.

I'm not really used to him talking about his feeling's to be honest, so the whole thing has come as quite a shock. To say the least...

It's been almost a week-6 days, 2 hours and 34 minutes to be precise-since he announced over a Chicken Chasseur that i don't make him happy anymore and that he's managed to find someone else that does.

At first i just thought it must be some sort of idiotic joke! You know the sort that men find funny, and that make women cry? Not that he was given much to joking around-well, not lately anyway.

But my startled brain could find no other reason for him to say such things. And so i swallowed down the lump of dry poultry which had lodged itself awkwardly in my throat, took an extra large swig of red wine and began to laugh. All the while keeping my eye's fixed firmly on his face.

I noted that although i was creased up with laughter, his expression remained unfaulteringly serious.

'You're serious' i said, once i had managed to compose myself and knew it to be true. He nodded.

That's when i cried.


I have been crying for the last 6 days, 2 hours and 45 minutes. In between sleeping and long periods of not eating. He has long since gone. I tried to stop him...

'But we're married' i screamed, as my poor brain began to slowly absorb what he was actually saying.

'I'm unhappy-i don't want to be married anymore'

Well I've been unhappily half-a-stone over-weight for the last 18 months and i don't want to be anymore but i can't just get up and leave myself, can i? -i thought!

'Is it because I've gotten fat?' I asked, distraught.

He shook his head.

'You're not fat Ruby. I just don't love you anymore'. -A glimmer of hope...he still finds me attractive!

'I'll forgive an affair...in fact i don't even want to know about it,...just please, please don't leave me...'
I know, i know, begging is never attractive, but what could i do?

That's when he got up to leave and i noticed the suitcase waiting by the front door ominously, like a brown paper package left unattended in a train station.

He was really going to do this, he was actually going to leave me.

We hadn't even finished the Chicken Chasseur!

I know i said a few lines ago that begging is never attractive but when you're desperate you'll try anything...and i was desperate. I won't go into too much detail-i cringe at the very thought of my behaviour when i think of it now to be honest!-but suffice it to say that there was actual grabbing of clothing and much snot mixed with my abundant tears. Not my finest hour!

It didn't work.

He still went.

Bastard!

At least that's what i call him in my angrier moments.

Other times I'm so filled with love for him that i cannot begin to blame him for what he has done. During those periods i manage to convince myself that I'm the one to blame-i let myself get too fat, i sometimes refused to have sex with him, i stopped saying 'i love you' in bed at night. But then, so did he...

It takes all the strength i have left (and believe me i was only a weakling to begin with) to stop myself from calling his mobile at least a million times a day. It's only the fear that SHE might be the one to answer which holds me back...

So here i am. Thirty one years old, back to square one.

Alone.

So what am i gonna do now...?