Marriage 1 Bonus Chapter: Wulf Still Has My Respect, Homeboi, Self-Love and Tomorrow We Honor Our Good Times

Let me start with this: there are always multiple realities. As we wade into my dizzying logic about conspiracy theories (bear with me a few days; this story requires research), you’ll see why I believe that. People will have opinions about whether I was groomed. I also still believe in lifetimes, and I want to share an honest conversation I had with Wulf after that essay went live earlier today.

I want to show why he still matters to me, and probably always will. Women, myself included, often edit ourselves to make room for men. Their ego. Their gaze. Seven years under the same roof builds a bond that is almost unbreakable. We are family, Wulf and I. His current partner is older than me by a good stretch. Maybe I’m making it worse by defending him, but I want that context on the table. Wulf and I will always ride or die.

Here’s a candle from Wulf. He always believed in me. We’ll get to that part, but letting me go wasn’t easy for Wulf. But he knew it ultimately had to be done.

When the piece posted, I texted Wulf for feedback and could feel his hidden emotions through a vague text. When I asked how he felt, Wulf called me. Wulf hates texting, but he is a great phone caller. He was hurt by the word grooming, and I understood the defensiveness. I clarified: this is my reality, and you still matter to me. When I tell my story, the first thing people clock is the age gap. That reaction has been part of my life. It is important to name it. And here’s the thing about Wulf: he is the most punk-rock person I know, to a fault.

He cut me off. I told you about that temper. “This is precisely your problem, Suki. Why do you give a fuck how I feel? Fuck me, do you understand? Your writing is good. That’s all that matters. This is your story to tell. I don’t care how you portray me. I want you to keep writing, because you’re fucking good. Fuck me, fuck my feelings, and honestly, fuck every single other person in this world. This is you. Keep going, don’t stop.” Wulf always reminds me to be selfish, because he knows I’m a marshmallow.

We had good times, bad times, and a few that belong behind a caution sign. The good ones were bright, and I want to honor those before the turn. So, tomorrow, friends, that’s precisely what I will do.

There’s something else I need to name: learned helplessness in cPTSD. Only recently did I remember who I actually am. The shame and numbness ran so deep that I forgot my own agency. I think of a conversation with Homeboi on the stoop of Wulf’s Montclair apartment the night we announced our marriage. He was in tears that I was leaving. Everything was happening so fast. Homeboi and I had a bond like no other. Was I sure, leaving now? We were family, just about to make it together. I told Homeboi, truthfully, I wasn’t sure, of course.

I told him I had to take the better deal in front of me. I said I didn’t have a choice. He pushed back. You’re brilliant and hardworking, he said. Grind a little more. With your skills, couldn’t you make it without ending up dependent on Wulf? Surely, there was a way!

I got frustrated. “And live where? In my Saturn? Work where, Homeboi, at the mall? I’m too tired to drive to campus. I’ve got parking tickets up my ass. Where would I go, with you? You don’t even have a place.”

That line landed like a brick. The silence told the truth. I didn’t love myself. I was surviving. I lashed out and hurt Homeboi. He saw me more clearly than I did. He drove home in tears. I never forgot it. I cried all night. That’s one of the milestones of my life where I started killing pieces of myself to stop feeling, because it hurt too much to let Homeboi go. As I type this, tears are making it hard for me to finish…(That is why every word means so much in this plea to Homeboi: A Letter to My Homeboi, and Every Man in the Hood Who Forgot He Deserves More)

When you’re marinating in shame and cortisol, life happens to you. You forget you have choices. That is why I’ve lost relationships in the past few months. And I’m thinking hard about the next steps of my life. I cannot afford to fold anymore. I look in the mirror and finally see what Homeboi saw all along. This powerful, witty nerd needing a safe environment; waiting to be unleashed behind a goofy grin:

So Wulf and I packed for Los Angeles. Two stylish, artsy kids at heart. Ready to take on the world.

But first, a plot twist.

“We’re living with your brother?”