It should be descending, shouldn't it? With Marti, (the first one I married- at 18) it was dinner at the restaurant where I was working. She brought up that she was unhappy and I agreed that I was too. The discussion continued that perhaps we should separate, then about divorce and then how about I leave town. We had no physical relations. She had gone with me to a counselor once and refused to go again. I had betrayed her by not being entirely honest about my sexual experience. We spent no time together. We didn't talk. She went out drinking with a guy she had made friends with that was of drinking age (I wasn't). I wasn't particularly jealous of him- I knew he wouldn't get what he thought he was going to get. I had married her and didn't. So over a dinner of maybe an hour we negotiated the end of our two year relationship. If she had any feelings, she didn't show them. I had a melt down as I was packing up the car on the last day, but it was apparent she didn't want to see it, so I stuffed it away and left. Drove an old rebuilt Studebaker back across country to Indiana.
After I left she filed for divorce with my consent and it was effortlessly over. I was supposed to pay part of the lawyers fee, but I never did.
I would never hide my feelings again. I would not be with anyone that made promises about what could be.
I learned to never mistake a photographic memory for intelligence. I avoided girls who had the latest physical aliment (hers was hypoglycemia, which basically meant she slept a lot- as opposed to having symptoms of depression). I never ever got talked into anything I didn't want to do again.
Maybe she was having a fling with the guy, but if she was, she certainly wasn't the person I had thought I was marrying. Guilty parties are always the projection of ourselves.
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