Dear John, I Love Jane: When Women Leave Their Husbands for Other Women

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via AlterNet:



Seal Press / By Libbie Miller

Dear John, I Love Jane: When Women Leave Their Husbands for Other Women
Coming out to her husband of 10 years, Libbie Miller discovers that the truth is a big relief.

December 16, 2010 |


The following is an essay by Libbie Miller, excerpted from Dear John, I Love Jane: Women Write About Leaving Men for Women, edited by Candace Walsh and Laura Andre (Seal Press, 2010).

Hey, lady! How are ya?" asks Lori, my perfectly coiffed hairdresser. She bears a striking resemblance to a young Loni Anderson. "I'm all right. Could be better, could be worse," I reply.

"Just all right? That's the best you can muster?" she teases. Both Lori and I hail from Middle America, where steak and corn are dinnertime staples, and conversation is honest and straightforward. Lori has no trouble filling the conversational space that transpires over a cut and color session. "You know, not once have you ever said you're doing great, or even good," she says. The inflection of her voice changes from carefree to deeply concerned and her volume drops considerably. She circles from the back of the chair, removing the mirror from our discussion, and grabs the armrests of my chair as she looks me right in the eyes. "Are you depressed, Libbie?" I make incoherent noises, meant to be the beginnings of an appropriate response, but I'm coming up empty as I squirm awkwardly in my chair, looking around for the nearest possible escape. A lump rises in my throat as I feel wetness permeate the corners of my eyes. My face reddens as I realize I'm about to cry . . . in public. I flounder for a response that doesn't come. Her delicate, manicured hands rise to her mouth as she slowly shakes her head and says, "Oh, Libbie. I'm so sorry, sweetie." I'm quiet, and so is she, for the duration of my appointment, although my head is swimming with thoughts.

Ballsy, Lori. Ballsy indeed, but dead on, I think to myself as I start my car's engine. It took a blond, size 4, Loni Anderson look-alike to point out the obvious: something I knew was there but dared not address. But now I have no choice. The lid is off and the contents are leaking out uncontrollably. It's time to confront this thing once and for all. I can't continue to ride along as a complacent passenger to my own life. I can see the edge of the cliff that drops into the unknown. I can't keep backing away. And so here comes the burning question. The question that scares the living shit out of me every time it floats to the surface, only to be quickly squelched by something else. Anything else. Ice cream, that marked-down Crate & Barrel sofa, whether I need to pick up dog food. Anything that doesn't start the question with "am" and end in "lesbian." ............(more)

The complete piece is at: http://www.alternet.org/sex/149190/dear_john%2C_i_love_jane%3A_when_women_leave_their_husbands_for_other_women/