People are quick to say, "This is what I would do if I were you." This is a silly, mistaken notion. If they were me, they would do whatever I am doing. What they really mean to say is, "This is what you would do in that situation if you were me." That's more accurate, I think.
My point is this: I've been thinking about your situation, and I think I know what you should do. You should get away. Permanently. There are many ways to do this. For you, I recommend the following:
Find a small town in Texas, somewhere in the Hill Country. Not too small, they don't like new people. Make sure it's big enough that you could live there for a year without having driven down every street in town, but no bigger. Find a nice, modest house that needs a little work. Not a lot of work, just a little. Live there for a few months, just you and your children. No visitors except your family.
Once you're settled in, once everything is unpacked, once you got all your simple things set up the way you like them, then start meeting the people. Avoid bars and churches. Find the local cafe or coffee shop where people meet in the morning or evening. Sometimes there's a market or a restaurant on the square. Each town is different. Figure out where the real people go, and start going there. Bring your children with you most of the time, don't leave them with anyone. Don't talk too much and don't talk too loud. Listen to people. Get to know them.
After a while - don't move too fast - you'll meet him. He'll be a local man. He'll be a little older than you, but not too much. His work will involve driving a truck around town and wearing a uniform. He will look really good in that uniform. He will smile a lot. He'll be shy enough to wait until he knows that you're interested, but confident enough to take it from there. He will love your kids. He might even have one or two of his own from a marriage that didn't work out. Maybe she wanted to live wild. Maybe she wanted to get the hell out of this town. But him? He wanted to make a life here. He wanted the house and the wife and the kids and to come to this place on Friday nights. He's the one. Go to him. Make it work.
All you have to do then is let him take care of you. You can get a job if you want, or not. Work out and stay fit, or don't. Spend time with your kids. The money? Call it a trust fund. Dip into it a little when times get tough. Pretend it isn't there. Let him pay the bills. He'll be glad to do it, because he loves you.
Now, here's the most important part: Don't tell anyone who you are. Oh sure, tell him. He deserves to know. Don't tell anyone else, though. When young girls squeal, "Oh my God! Aren't you Britney Spears?" just smile and say, "Oh, no. I get that all the time." Change your name to Tammy Jean or something like that. Pretty soon the locals won't think about it anymore. You'll just be Tammy Jean Wilson, Ricky's wife.
Doesn't that sound better? You know that it does. I think it would be great.
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
P. S. - Aphter: 43. Thanks for stopping by.
