I’m sick and tired of being exploited and taken advantage of, in life generally but also in our relationship. Recently it really grates on me that my cheating OH can’t see that she’s been part of it. I think, after all these years, I’m finally starting to think I might find the balls to leave and finally find a life of my own, for me before anyone else.I’ve loved her like I could never love anyone else, but it feels like the time is approaching to finally put an end to this tortuous misery. I cared for her from day one. She moved into my house, didn’t contribute anything for the first 7 years or so. For 5 years she was f’king around with ONS’s and casual encounters, one of whom she confessed, years later, to having brought them back to my house when I was away. And at a time when I was spread so thin, caring for my parents, working and studying while still giving her plenty of romantic attention. She had sex with another in the back of our car that we’d bought together from my little and only savings at the time. No regard for any sentiment that I thought we’d attached to it. I failed professional exams in the aftermath of her confession that dented my career permanently, but she doesn’t see any significance of what she’d done. I built up an unmanageable amount of personal debt. She thinks I should be over it. Maybe I should. She never offers a meaningful apology and I genuinely think now she’s always thought it was no big deal. She certainly doesn’t get the damage she’s caused me mentally/psychologically and emotionally, and I don’t think she sees anything wrong with the circumstances of her encounters (except for knowing they were wrong on the context of being in a relationship). Recently, and for the first time in our long relationship, her presence is starting to irritate me. The differences I thought I could live with are now amplified, her untidiness, the fact I cook probably 4 out of every 5 meals.The fact I get up early with kids every day, from the day they were born. She gets a ‘lay in’ by comparison most days, breakfast in bed often and almost every day she gets asked what she wants and gets what she asks for. Aside from the odd time when I’ve been ill, she’s never offered. I do the laundry, maintain the house, look after and pay for both cars. She pays 75% of the mortgage and I pay everything else, nearly double what she pays. She keeps her salary to herself. But above all, she can’t see what a walkover I’ve been. She thinks I feel sorry for myself which I probably do, but I don’t get that she feels sorry, like properly sorry for the practical damage, or the hurt, or the destroyed self esteem, or the frustrating embarrassment in the bedroom arising from the ongoing trauma; or the indignity of going for STD tests in the aftermath; or frequently encountering the men she’s slept with. More often than not I now wish she’d f’ck off, or even kick me out. I’m destined to end up with nothing material anyway, but truly, I couldn’t give a crap, I could live with nothing but be happy, or at least happier than I am now without the burden of constantly pacifying her and supressing my own misery (or at least trying to). Happy reading my love.