GAZUMPED
My mind is still split on whether or not I have it in me to inflict the amount of pain I know I’m about to on an innocent party who in no way deserves what is about to go down in the next half-an-hour or so. But I look at the poster-sized photograph of me and Dave on our wedding day hanging above the mantlepiece, through eyes that have shed their last tear over the decline of my mostly happy twenty-eight-year marriage. Those tears happened the whole time I was debating whether or not to go through with this conversation. The conclusion is yes, but I’m still fighting the urge to flee. Dave is going to be devastated. Read More …