An uncomfortable realization...

I'm sure she wouldn't admit to this, at least not yet, but I'm now convinced that Priscilla has never really wanted me for me.

Looking back, I can see how I provided a level of security and comfort (mostly financial) for her, in exchange for some companionship and homemaking.

We enjoyed each other's company to a point, I liked or could at least appreciate many of the things she did, though the feelings weren't very reciprocal (her tastes in literature, movies, and TV in particular being somewhat different from mine). She had little interest generally in the SF/Fantasy media I found compelling (though she later came to enjoy Harry Potter and Game of Thrones).

We frequently knocked heads over my unwillingness to express preferences in a lot of areas. I felt like it wasn't generally safe to do so with her.

So, over time we settled into a pattern of life where we did things that didn't push boundaries for either of us. We were stagnating.

I know, she told me, she often felt like I stifled her, but I couldn't see how I overtly limited her choices.

I encouraged her to seek employment, or volunteer work, or going back to school, or pursuing arts or crafts, or whatever floated her boat. Regardless of that she tended to stay at home, shopping on-line. A form of agoraphobic inertia seemed to set in.

For my part, I felt like it wasn't OK for me to be away from home for very long, going out by myself in the evenings after work was dangerous somehow; even spending time by myself in my office away from her working on personal projects felt uncomfortable.

Physical intimacy between us was limited. I don't think I excite her that way, I'm unclear whether any man really ever has; or has she historically acquiesced in previous relationships to male overtures of a sort that I'm unwilling to strongly assert (I want a willing and interested partner, not someone who just gives in).

So, I made this bed and made some level of commitment to lie in it.

How do I justify to my conscience doing something different. Don't I deserve something more from my life?

I've spent a lot of it telling myself I'm not worth very much, so I should be grateful for any morsel I do find.

But is anything better than nothing?

More to the point: is what I've had with Priscilla worth hanging onto in the face of discovering something potentially transcendent with Penelope once I'm able to shed so much old emotional baggage and material anchors?

I think I owe it to myself and my amazing darling angel to find out.