Everyone has days in their lives that will never leave them. Days of happiness, days of experiences, days of sorrows. Today is one of those days for me. A day I thought would never happen to me. When you’re writing the story of your life, this day is not in your happily ever after.

Today is the day my marriage officially ended.

Today is the day my husband told me he no longer loves me. Correction – no longer is IN love with me. He says he’ll always love me, but that I deserve to be with someone who is IN love with me. He promises there’s no one else but after eight months of therapy, he doesn’t see his feelings changing and it’s unfair to me for him to stay in something that’s dead.

I pretend not to hear him as I continue typing on my keyboard, but of course I heard him. I can’t look at him. My breath is caught in my throat – words cannot get past the giant lump that has now formed. He knows I heard him – he sees the tears streaming down my cheeks. His words will resonate with me forever. Gone are the happy memories we once ever had. Now when I think of him, this will be that moment.

FUCK YOU my head is screaming as I hear him walking towards the door. I wish I could say those two words and their significance of how I feel. But the moment is gone. A silence that is filled with anger, defeat, and pain. I will not chase him. I will not beg for him to reconsider. I am done being the only one fighting to save us. If he isn’t in love with me anymore, then I shouldn’t want him to stay. What I don’t understand is where and when did he fall out of love with me?

We just had what seems like our millionth fight. Of course, it was over something stupid – aren’t most fights over something stupid? Simple things that could have simple resolutions. Our war with each other has become me wanting his time and him not willing to give it to me anymore. I used to be his number one priority. Now I am more like his mistress and work is his wife. Once upon a time, I WAS his life.

We met while working for the same sports agency firm. I was Assistant Director of Corporate Events and he was the Vice President of Corporate Sponsorship. He was charming, smart, funny, and good-looking. He knew how to use his looks and charm to land sales, especially if he was pitching to the female clientele. Each time he got our company a new corporate sponsor; I threw a lavish event in their honor. We had to work closely together, so we became fast friends. It was hard not to have a little crush on him, but I was professional and enjoyed his friendship, so I assumed that is what we were only ever going to be. I didn’t think I was his type in the looks department either. He seemed to always gravitate towards blonde, blue-eyed women. Women who looked exactly like him, the complete opposite of me. Imagine my surprise one night when we were working late and he kissed me. We spent the next three hours kissing instead of working. I was head over heels in love with him. He made me feel like the most beautiful woman on this planet and he always made me feel loved – by the words he would say to me and the looks he bestowed upon me.

We were married two years later and I was in complete bliss, both personally and professionally. After our one-year anniversary, we talked about having a baby. But another year passed, and we still had not conceived. My doctors did more testing and we found out that I had an abnormal uterus. The doctor said it would be “tough” getting pregnant.

I was devastated.

I felt like a complete failure as a woman and as a wife. I started questioning why my husband would want to stay married to me if I couldn’t give him a family. He thought I was being ridiculous, and told me it didn’t matter to him if we didn’t have a baby. That all he needed was me. My intuition didn’t believe him, and a woman’s intuition is usually right. As the months moved on, I would catch him looking at other people’s children with longing in his eyes. I knew my depression was affecting us, and I vowed to try to go back to being that bubbly, positive girl that he married. When I suggested we try using a surrogate, the light immediately came back in his eyes and we started making plans. He was about to accept a new position as Director of Corporate Sales for a Fortune 500 company, so with the extra income coming in, we should be able to afford a surrogate by the following year.

The love for my job was lost once he left the agency for his new position. I had not realized how much I relied on him professionally, as well as personally. I started feeling like maybe I had lost my identity. Sure, I was someone’s wife, but I was still ME and needed to do things that made ME happy. With his blessing, I quit my job and started my own event planning business, with a specialty in children’s parties. This required me to learn more about social media, including starting my own blog. I loved absorbing all this new information and I was back feeling like I could conquer the world with the best husband by my side supporting me. But as I engrossed myself more into my new business, I failed to notice the newfound changes in my husband.

His new job required that he traveled more, which at first I had no issues with since it gave me the time to devote to growing my business. His travels went from once a month to every week. He was traveling to land the big accounts, and with those big accounts, came big commission checks. Money was always important, but it now was an obsession to him. It became a game – how much money can he make in a short amount of time. All he wanted to do was make more and more. Even when he was home, he was still always on his computer or taking phone calls late at night. His tastes started to become expensive. Our cozy apartment turned into a cold, modern day looking museum from all the remodeling he ordered to be done. He had always been generous with buying me little gifts here and there. Before it would be a new book that I wanted or a gift card to my favorite coffee shop. Now my gifts were lingerie from La Perla and jewelry from Ippolita. The gifts just felt like he was buying my forgiveness for his lack of attention. Maybe some women are fine with that. For me, it was unacceptable, so I demanded we seek couples therapy. At first, he was reluctant to go. He didn’t believe that outsiders should know the business of our marriage. But when the fights continued, he finally agreed.

Therapy bored him. He was physically present, but mentally unavailable. Even the easy suggestions of weekly dates seemed difficult for him. I was ecstatic when he suggested we go on a vacation. But in those weeks leading up to our vacation, he was busier than ever and hardly around. Once our vacation arrived, we were walking on eggshells around each other. He felt like a complete stranger to me. Even the sex felt cold and distant. I still never gave up hope though. I knew in my heart that the man I married was still in there, and he wasn’t going to give up on me either. I am the same girl he married. Physically, I had not changed much, give or take five pounds or so. I was always his biggest cheerleader. I always put his needs before mine. We were constantly having sex up until he preferred work over me. But he did give up. He gave up on me. He gave up on us.

Why did he give up on ME?

I am trying to concentrate on my daily blog post, but I can barely see through the tears. The keyboard becomes saturated with their wetness, my fingers slipping as I try to type. The post has become more of a journal of my emotions in this moment than an article on a Valentine’s Day party. Memories are flooding though my brain like waves during high tide. It’s as if my brain wants to wash them right out in order to stop the pain that is throbbing through my heart. The music selection on Pandora Radio is only making things worse, playing every single sad song known to man. It’s like she knows what’s going on and wants to break me even more.

Pandora, you’re a bitch!

I can’t take it. Between the music, the memories, and the realization of what’s actually happening, I need to find refuge. I run to my room and throw myself on what used to be our bed and cry.

I cry for the girl who thought she got her happily ever after.

I cry for the lost man that use to be my husband.

I cry for the children we will never have.

I cry for the realization that I am now alone.

In my misery of the demise of my marriage, I conveniently don’t recall that I just hit publish on a blog post that talks more about my marriage ending than of a child’s theme party. I unconsciously just committed career suicide.

Or so I thought.