So, that happened.
It's a little tough to sum up exactly what has happened since my last post. Just after I wrote it, the BassMaster and I retreated to our separate camps to tell our families that we planned to separate.
My father-in-law sent me four emails telling me that he just didn't know what to say, that he wished he could fix it, how sorry he was that he was a poor role model. This is not your fault, I wrote back to him. It's his fault and my fault. Divorce is the last thing I want, but I can't survive in marriage without love. I can't teach the girls to settle for someone who doesn't love them back.
In case you haven't noticed, the men in my husband's family do not emote much. However, when my father-in-law read my reply, he bawled.
In front of his boss.
My parents spent the whole day with their heads in their hands, my sister-in-law called the BassMaster a douchebag, and my brother literally - literally - wanted to kill him.
It was a bad scene, to say the least.
Eventually, the BassMaster and I found ourselves sitting alone at his parent's kitchen table. I crossed my arms and silently tried to kill him with my eyeballs.
"This might have been a really bad idea," he said.
So then the two of us did this weird, antiquated thing.
We went for coffee and talked. And talked. And talked.
He agreed to do 6 months of marriage counseling, and we both came up with some ideas on how we might - emphasis on might - reclaim the old "us," back when we actually kind of liked each other and weren't so pissed off at the world.
Anger is so freakin' exhausting, anyway.
Are we fixed? Hell, no. Am I feeling a bit frustrated and jerked around by the whole thing? Yep. Might we fall apart anyway? Sure.
But this much we agree on: there's a spark of something between us. We owe it to the kids (and each other, I suppose) to see exactly what's behind it.
If we end it, we can end it knowing that we at least tried.
It's enough. For now.