I know what I would do.

I worked with Gail for years. We were good friends. I hung out at their house, I knew her husband. His name is John.

They had a rough road trying to have children. She had several miscarriages, but they kept trying.

They were very protective -obsessive- of each other. They always had each other in site, they couldn’t go out unless the other was also going, they were a package deal. I had never seen anything like it.

It took everything in my power to convince her husband to let her go out with me on my bachelorette party before I got married.

Again, package deal.

Fast forward 10 or so years. They went on to have two beautiful daughters and moved to a new house. I was also busy with my own kiddos and navigating married life and being a mom.

So we didn’t talk any longer. But I often thought of her, and hoped she was well.

One night, I got a rare moment to steal away with my sisters to a movie. Kids home safe with the husband and I got to get out and have an adult moment.

Before the movie starts, we loaded up on junk food and found some seats. Sitting there talking and laughing with each other. That’s when I noticed a super blond big head down to my left.

Is that John? No… can’t be… because that’s not Gail he has his arm around.

It has to be… no one on the planet has that color hair that I know of.

He leans in and they start kissing.

Wtf? Gail is going to kill him. Hell, I am going to kill him.

I tell my sisters. I tell them I have to get him to turn. My one sister makes a big noise and damn if he doesn’t turn and damn if that’s not John.

Wth am I supposed to do now? I think about it that night. I know what I have to do.

I call a mutual friend, and get Gail’s number. It’s been a good 5 or so years at this point since I’ve seen them. But I have to talk to her.

She should know.

I track her down and leave a message. She calls back about an hour later.

We have a little small talk, but there is something odd in her answers and there is some weirdness in her tone.

I just tell her as gently as I can that I saw John at the movies with someone that wasn’t her.

She replies, “I know.” We take a little more, but she’s still being odd. She’s asking me a lot of questions about mutual friends and if they’ve told me anything. I’m so confused by this conversation.

Finally she says, “We separated about a year ago, I am gay. I always have been. I decided about a year ago to come out. John wasn’t doing good for a while, but he’s happy now”

Oh. Alright then. We go on to talk a bit more.

Today? I see Gail a lot. Her daughter and my oldest son are the same age and go to the same school. I even had dreams of them dating. Her daughter was actually at my sons baby shower. They tease each other all the time about that. Gail is happy, John is happy, kids are happy.

All is good.

My point for this? Besides rambling on and on…

I’m in a support group on Facebook, and the question comes up a lot:

“Did your friends know about the affair and not tell you.”

The answers are almost always, yes, friends knew.

Why is this so hard?

People I considered friends knew. They even went out and had drinks with my husband and his whore. One of these friends was even in my wedding.

Is there a “bro code”? Maybe there is. But these friends wives also knew. These women hugged me, talked to me, chilled out with me… DURING his affair that they KNEW about.

I feel weirdly betrayed by all of them. I can’t even look at them to this day without wanting to punch them in the throat.

Did I do right that day telling Gail? I think so. I knew it could hurt her, I knew I might lose her as a friend -you know the whole kill the messenger thing- but damn it! She had the right to know, no matter how hard to hear, that he was not only jeopardizing their marriage, he was putting her health at risk.

Her and I laugh about it now. We have talked in depth about that phone call several times since.

She always thanks me. No matter where her marriage was at the time, she thanks me for looking out for her.

I wouldn’t hesitate to tell a friend again. Though I pray I’m never in that position ever again.

I’m somewhat humiliated when I think of it. How I was posting things about him and I online, how I was just going about our lives like there wasn’t a side chick that everyone knew about but me.

I know I shouldn’t be humiliated, but I can’t help that feeling.

But with that feeling also comes anger. They should’ve told me.

Would you tell a friend?

Posted in affair, cheating husband, healing after the affair, infidelity | Tagged , , , , | 18 Comments

My path.

Growing up, my path wasn’t easy. There was no stability at all. 16 different schools before 8th grade should give somewhat of an idea.

So though it was at times rocky and twisty, and sometimes it went through a dark and scary forest, there were many times it was amazing and beautiful. It was mine.

It was my path.

No matter where I was on it, I always tried to get a look at where I was going. I wasn’t always looking at my feet. I often looked up, I often looked forward.

When I met my husband, we were very young. He was 20, I was 18.

But as we dated, I began to look forward. I wanted to marry him. He was the one. I looked forward and saw me walking down the isle, saying I Do.

And we did.

Our marriage was rocky in the beginning. We both came from an unstable family. I swear, we just didn’t know how to be married. We fought hard, but we also loved hard.

As the marriage went on, I often looked forward on my path… kids. I knew we would have them, and we did. Our late 20’s and early thirties brought us three children and now we are a family of five.

I remember holding my youngest, her sweet face, her gorgeous curls, and again, I looked forward. They will go to school. I will be there their first days. I will be there when they graduate. When they go off to college. When they get married. When they have their own children.

I will be there.

When I saw that far down the path, I was always with my husband. We would cherish each milestone together, stand together through each step down that path.

Smiling, happy grandparents that would host Christmases, Sunday dinners… I will not ever feel guilty or made to feel bad for looking that far ahead. Because for the first time in my entire life, I thought what I finally had was stability, and I had trust in that. Comfort.

But where we were on the path? I was happy. I enjoyed watching him grow older. His funny quirks, the laugh lines appearing around his eyes, the sexy grey hair showing up around his temples… I loved him. Growing older together was a joy and a comfort.

He helped build that path of mine. We built it together. I could never see it without both of us standing on it and walking it together.

But he knocked me off of it with his affair.

Just shoved me right off and now I find myself on another one.

I don’t know this one. I don’t know where this one leads. I can’t see where it’s going.

Knocked me right off.

How do you switch it off? The one you were comfortable on. The one that you knew the destination? The one you felt safe on?

This new one is scary.

But I have to keep on walking it.

I’m such a visual person, and it’s weird that now as I envision my path, he is still around, but he’s now on his own. We are no longer on the same one.

His is kinda far from mine too, I can barely see him.

Posted in cheating husband, extramarital affair, healing after the affair, infidelity | Tagged , , | 17 Comments

Life is short

H and I are not speaking right now. Today will be day 5.

I don’t care.

I’m past playing these games.

Friday, we were supposed to take our middle child to Ohio for a college visit. But a knock down drag out fight happened on Wednesday, so I didn’t want to ruin his visit with his parents acting like that.

Let his Dad take him, they can only benefit from that much time together on the road.

It’s all good.

But Friday afternoon, my daughter sent me a text on her bus ride home.

“There was a suicide today.” And she told me the students name. I couldn’t breathe. I’m actually glad I was home alone when I got that text.

I glad I stayed home. She’s a bit knocked back by this and I’m glad I stayed behind.

I knew the girl very well. Since she was in kindergarten. She was a senior. I know her family. This is an extremely small community.

She was in my yearbook class for a couple of years. She was always smiling. Quiet, shy. Teaching her to use a camera and design pages was a pleasure. She was artistic.

She went on to become a stunningly beautiful girl, popular, played sports. Her mom and sister worked at the local mom and pop grocery store. There isn’t a soul in this tight knit community that doesn’t know them.

How do I talk to my kids? I’m doing the best I can and being as honest as I know how.

I just want to hold them all a little tighter.

And then there’s my H. Sitting there handing me his silent treatment games. Day 5. Not a single text the two days he was in Ohio. I have spoken to him, apologizing for my parts, trying to get him to talk. He just replies he isn’t ready.

I have no time for this, life is too short.

And you never know when someone may not be there the next day.

Posted in affair, infidelity | 5 Comments


I have no title. The date will have to do.

I’m struggling a bit tonight. I’ll get through, but for now, I’ll just write it out.

There are so many trigger dates in October. Some days are harder than others. Some days, I get in my car and drive and scream at him until I can’t scream anymore.

I can’t scream at him. I don’t. I used to, but it did neither of us any good. What’s the point anymore? It’s like badgering him. Punishing him.

But I’m so wrecked inside. I guess I just don’t find him to be a safe person to talk this out with. He get immediately defensive. There’s no talking anything out with someone like that.

October… it brings such beauty and it brings such floods of emotion.

I piled all of us in the truck that year and we went to the local corn maze. We all had a blast getting lost and enjoying all the farm had to offer. Corn maze, pedal tractors, football, straw jump, fun slides…I thought I was doing a good thing, I was trying.

What I didn’t know then was that he was texting her the whole time telling her he missed her and wished she was there with him.

The scout troop headed to Jersey to spend the night on the ship. I was so excited for them! My youngest son won the drawing to fire off a big gun. They took lots of pictures and had a blast.

What I didn’t know when I excitedly made this post, was that they had just started fucking each other. The week before he left on this trip.

They spent the weekend sending each other nudes and here I’m up here just so giggly happy for the guys getting this experience.

When they got back from this trip, I took my oldest son and had him help me on a photoshoot in the city. I was not familiar with where I was going, and wanted some help.

What I didn’t know was that the minute I left that day, he ran right to her house for a nice quickie, he missed her so. Being gone for the weekend away from her must’ve just killed him. All those nudes must’ve had him breaking speed limits to get to her nasty hoarder house bedroom.

Halloween rolls around and he and I took our daughter trick-or-treating. She was with a friend and we joined them. I took pictures and definitely posted them to Facebook. She was hilarious! I sewed stuffed cats all over a frumpy robe. I mean ALL over. She was a crazy cat lady!

He was pissy and distant the whole time. I thought he was annoyed by the friends we walked with. I didn’t realize he was missing his whore.

When we got home, I looked at her Facebook. At that point, I was definitely checking her page out, and with me posting that we were out as a family, I wondered. Hell, I knew somewhere inside that she was looking at mine too.

She had changed her profile picture. She was sitting on her bed (which he probably just fucked her in) and sadly staring off to the left. She looked pathetic. Something about that hit me in the gut. I knew it was a response to us being out, I just knew it.

I showed him. Asked him why is she looking so sad? He got mad and said, “How the hell should I know?! I don’t speak to her, we don’t talk, don’t show me that shit!”

But I wondered. Something wasn’t right.

Even though he swore on everything holy they no longer spoke, I still kept an eye on her. Pretty much daily until around the end of November. Her and her nasty sister.

She blocked me, but her sister didn’t. She would take jabs at me through her sister.

I wonder though, now, did she give him shit for being out with us?? Is that why he was a grouch and she posted depressing pictures of her stupid face?

I guess I’m just lost in the past lately. I keep reading that I will eventually not do this anymore, and I very much look forward to a future October where I’m not drowning in the flood.

All I know is, my husband started an emotional affair. I found out very quickly. He swore it ended.

It shook the marriage to the point that it shook us up. We started talking, fighting, crying, having insane amounts of sex…

And then he went and started having sex with her at the same time.

At the same fucking time.

How did he do that? Not just emotionally, but physically too. How did he do that?!

I can’t stand him right now.

If he had just put that effort into the marriage HE shook up, we would be in such a different place now. Why couldn’t he give us the chance?

I feel used. I’ve felt used since I found out about them. It’s the worst feeling.

Today, I’m angry. Im so angry. When I’m here, in this place, it’s hard to see how far we’ve come… so today, I’ll just sit here in this hell and be angry.

I used to love October. It’s so beautiful. The changing of the seasons are magical, I used to celebrate it. Lets see where I am next year..

But right now I just want to hit something, break something and set shit on fire.

Posted in affair, cheating husband, extramarital affair, homewrecker, infidelity, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 22 Comments

I’m suspicious. But can I trust that?

I don’t trust my instincts any longer.

I used to. There was a time my instincts were spot on. I trusted my gut. I trusted it.

But now? I don’t know.

Sept. 10 2015. – he went to her. Just showed up at her work and took her to lunch.

Sept. 20 – I find out she exists. We fight and cry long into the night. He takes me to bed.

Sept. 21. – I contact her. Wtf? Why are you sending pics to my husband? I ask. Nothing! He’s just a friend! She says. Later, he tells me she’s pissed. She tells me she will not speak to him again. He says it’s over with her before it had even begun.

He takes me to bed.

Sept 23 – he goes and buys a burner phone, creates a fake Facebook. (I know this now)But swears to me he won’t talk to her again. He takes me to bed.

Continue this for the next 8 months. I guess in retrospect, I knew deep down. But I couldn’t fathom it then. How could he? We were all over each other, except for two weeks of healing in December due to surgery. But… we found other ways. Though I felt there was definitely something going on with him, I no longer trusted that instinct.

Is it because it’s that time of year? Sept 2016 was melt downs and insanity. 2017 was a little better, but there was anger. Here we are 2018, and I’m definitely triggered, but it’s a calmer, more in control, some anger, but most is at her.

So do I trust the suspicion I have right now? I was wrong before. I was also right before. But what can I trust now, when trust has been destroyed?

He comes home and goes right to his basement office. Spends a lot of time there. He is also camping in the bathroom. He is getting up at strange hours, leaving the room, taking his phone. Or his iPad. I guess that’s not unusual – taking a device.

He used his own devices during the affair, he didn’t always use the burner, he would go to the incognito tab to access his fake Facebook, and then use messenger, so he could talk to her in the house.

Does he have another Facebook now?

I accessed our router. It’s so easy to do. Once into the router, you can monitor web activity. I’ve definitely looked. Hell, once again, if I had done that during the affair, I would’ve seen a strange device connected, and messenger being used. So yes, sometimes I go on and see what’s connected and what websites are being viewed. I haven’t seen anything unusual though.

There is some weird brick looking dust all over his office chair. Is he seeing if I’m going in there? Did it fall off his pants from a job?

He’s already perfected the burner phone, so there’s no point checking phone records.

He was texting me a lot during work, but for about 3 weeks now, no texts.

Is he busy?

He usually has lots of receipts in his pockets. Yes, I sometimes look. If I had found a burner phone receipt back then, because he had to keep buying phone time, the whole affair would’ve come to light much sooner. But there are zero receipts in the pockets. Did he empty his pockets? He’s never done that before.

Some days he stays in his van for a while before coming in. I can see he’s looking at a phone. His? A burner?

Why so long out there? Work?

He hasn’t worked a Saturday since the affair. He didn’t work a Saturday then, either, but I didn’t know that. That’s just what he told me as he walked out the door to go to her.

He worked last Saturday.

I asked him where. He told me. I totally rode by. The van was there, outside, was he inside?

Is it just the time of year?

Is it the full moon?

I just don’t trust him right now.

But I don’t trust myself. He could just be doing life, and I’m seeing it as something else.

Is this my life? My future?

Am I looking in hopes of finding something?

There will be no second time. It will be immediately done. Am I looking?

I’m tired. So tired.

Posted in cheating husband, extramarital affair, healing after the affair, infidelity | Tagged , , , , , , , | 20 Comments

The “Slut” car conversation

I guess I had too much to say, or think about, to reply on Dolly’s post.  Or even a reform cad’s.

Dolly: Creative Writing

ARC: 138 – Slut

They both then had an interesting conversation about it on twitter.  I chimed in a bit, but my mind was really going a million miles a second, and I just needed to think about it.

I saw his post a few days ago, and I understood his anger.  He has had is own ride with people that do not even know him inserting themselves into a situation that has nothing to do with them. They have labeled him, just as someone labeled this girl.

I even had some respect that he wanted to help her clean off her car.  He felt bad for her, that’s not a bad trait to have.

I get it.

But on the other side of the coin, here I sit.  The betrayed. I had no problem with it at all.  I understood completely.

Let’s be honest here, as there was a discussion on whether or not it was a car belonging to a female.  It was a female.  She pissed off someone, she slept with someone she maybe shouldn’t have, and that’s really that.  

So that whole thing really got me thinking.  So, I’ll just talk about that.

About 4 years ago, I was in a parking lot and saw a car.  White. Spray painted in black all over it was, “whore, slut, skank.” Each of her tires was flat.  I remember sitting there looking at that. I remember looking around to see what store she could’ve been in.

I waited.  I waited a while.  I wanted to make sure she could get where she needed to be, and if she needed help.  I felt bad for her.  I had never seen anything like it, and felt she would be humiliated when she walked out and saw it.

I never saw her come out. She probably worked at one of the many stores nearby.

Fast forward to now.  2 years and 4 months past Dday.

I am no longer who I was.  I will never be again.

I absolutely despise the OW.  My anger and hurt at her and my husband has completely changed me.

A month or so after Dday, I got on google and searched, “How to heal after my husbands affair.”  The first return was Elle’s blog Betrayed Wives Club, and then a few more.  I took to twitter and searched out #Infidelity.  I found so many in the same situation.  I found many that were the unfaithful.  Their point of view helped tremendously.  I was seeking information.

But to be perfectly honest, those first few fog filled months, I was truly searching for someone, anyone, that had the same HATRED that I was carrying for the OW.

So many were like, “Let her go. She’s not important. Don’t let her take up any space in your head. She didn’t say the vows to you. Forgive her, he lied to her.” I had real life friends asking me why I hated her. I should be mad at him. Yes, I get that too, and I was. But…

NO. To take away the anger and pain she caused so she could be the poor victim? Nope.

I was FURIOUS at her.  I hated her.  Thoughts started forming in my head that didn’t feel normal to me. This intense anger and hatred was completely out of character for me.

I hated her.  I thought of seeing her in public, and pointing and screaming, “Whore!”  looking at someone nearby and telling them to keep their husband close, this whore likes them married!

I called her words I don’t think I’ve ever said to another human. I called her a cunt. A twat. Whore. Dumpster slut.

I thought, and still do, about putting her on Shes a Homewrecker.  She’s ended up driving behind me twice and it was all I could do to not brake check her.  I picture grabbing her by her stupid rainbow my little pony hair and driving that ugly face into my knee.

I still think about sending her a box of crap from poopsenders. I think I would choose the elephant poop.

I have battled with this anger at her for a long time. It’s confusing to me. I don’t know what it is I want from her. What do I need in myself to get that poison out of my system?

She’s poison.

So, back to arc’s post. I no longer have the same empathy for a situation like that. I believe, given the chance, I would’ve done the same. The anger and pain was intense. I believe it would’ve said “Dumpster Slut”

He drives a box truck for work. If my kids wouldn’t have seen it, his may have been plastered with “cheater, hope she was worth it, sticks his dick in whores”. You know, lovely and mature things like that.

He was not immune to my wrath, for sure. So who knows if there was another car also vandalized in the slut car situation. 🤷🏻‍♀️

If I’m standing there with a can of spray paint in my hand…Am I labeling? Maybe. I’m not thinking that though, I’m acting on the emotions. They both labeled me. Him with his pathetic and usual shit, “she’s evil. She’s crazy. She nags. She won’t have sex with me.”(Lies). Her with her social media attacks (never to me though, she’s a coward) “she’s so ugly even her husband doesn’t want her.”

And then my favorite from her “Her kids aren’t even his.”

She called my principal and told her I shouldn’t be allowed around children.

Really bitch? You’ve never met me, don’t know me, judging me, and thought fucking my husband for 8 months was a good decision?? She took time, money and moments that never belonged to her, away from my family.

(Yes. I know he gave them to her. But she didn’t have to take them)

She went after my job, my marriage, my kids. I definitely wasn’t in the mindset and rational thoughts of “Am I labeling? Is this true? Will she be hurt by my actions? Am I bullying her? Am I doing this to make myself feel powerful?”

No. None of that. That would be rational thought, and there is none of that in the wake of discovering infidelity. It’s pure insanity.

What’s that saying? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? That’s some serious truth right there.

Maybe I need some Jesus in my life, I don’t know, but betrayal is devastating. If given the chance in the days following dday, I would’ve decorated her car.

The ones that can absolutely and completely let the OW go, without harboring anger and hate, have my respect.

I couldn’t. I still struggle with it.

But other than all that up there, I really am a good person. 😊😂

Posted in cheating husband, D-day, DDay, healing after the affair, homewrecker, infidelity, marriage, mistress, the other woman, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 20 Comments

My trip.

I packed and left Sunday at 9am. When he and I said goodbye, I cried. Sadly, it wasn’t for missing him, it was in the fear he would go to her. But I left anyway. I can’t live like that any longer.

I think it’s just fear on my part too. I am like 99.9% positive he wants nothing to do with her.

I put in my GPS the address and hit Go.

There are several ways to get to the interstate that I spend the majority of the trip on. One takes me through some serious curvy mountain roads that keeps my speed down. It chose that route. I picked another one. I was somewhat familiar with that one, it’s the one we usually take. For the past 28 years of going to Kentucky together, this is the route we have gone, not matter where we lived. Unless I’m going alone, he drives, and I dont pay much attention. He has been the one to drive us on this route. The last times I’ve gone alone, I’ve followed the crazy mountain route, which I sort of hate.

So off I go. Turn, it says. I turn. Turn here, it says. I turn. Turn right onto the whores road, it says. What the fuck, I say.

Did we pass her house every time we went? Did he know when I left it would take me that way? Fuck.

I turn right. I know it’s coming, and I take a deep breath. I see it, it sits way back off the road on hill. Easily seen from the road. I wait for the rush.

Nothing. Hhmm. Interesting. Absolutely nothing. Not even a rush of hatred.

Ok then… I continue on. I shrug, look at it as some success of healing, and continue on.

When I arrive at my dads, he’s excited to see me. We fall into talking and laughing. I feel good. At one point in the visit, I tell him he should come visit me here. It would be easier to see each other. The kids all have school and jobs, it’s not easy to pick up and go. We also have animals. Cats, dog, bird.. also not easy. My husbands job also makes it difficult to pick up and go.

My Dad says, “I will not visit with you, I’m very angry at your husband.”

Ok. I take a deep breath. He’s being protective. I get it. So I answer, “Me too. I get it.”

We fall into the first conversation about it.

He’s 72. There’s a certain way about him that has always rubbed me a little wrong. His hypocrisy through my ordeal has me angry, but I hold that in.

“You need to leave him.” He says.

“I would if the affair was not over. But I’m building a new marriage. I’m trying, so is he. I can’t walk away from a 28 year relationship, 3 kids, a family.”

“There will never be trust again.” He says.

I think, “That’s easy for you to say. You walked from 2 marriages that had no good foundation ever. One lasted 7 years, the other lasted two.”

You should move here.” He says.

“I have thought about it. But I could not leave my kids, and I would not move them here, they are established at home. One is in college, here, one is a senior, one just started high school. There’s no way I would just come here with just my daughter.”

His eyes go wide at the last last statement. “Why not!?”

I’m so shocked at his reaction, I forget all that I need to say there and just mumble, “She just started high school. I will never take her out of that comfort of knowing her school and friends. I went to 16 different schools before 8th grade. I swore I’d never do that to my kids.” He looks at me like I’m ridiculous.

He was never the new kid, not once. He doesn’t get it. Also, I would never take her from her brothers. He’s an only child, he doesn’t get that. But most important? I would never move her 10 hours from her father. Another thing he doesn’t get. My mother moved my sister and I 26 hours away, and we never saw him again until I was much much older, and he and my sister have no relationship at all. He doesn’t get it. I’m not engaging him.

He’s looking at me like I’m weak. So I do my best…

He didn’t do this to hurt me….” I start out with.

He cuts me off.

“That’s where you’re wrong. He did.”

“No, Dad. He didn’t. He did not go to her with the thought, “I’m going to hurt and destroy Chris, this will be fun!” No. He went because something in him was broken. Something was missing. Our marriage was not good. We did not know how to connect. He did not know how to tell me something was wrong. I did not know how to listen.”

He shakes his head.

“Did I get hurt? Yes. Did he hurt our family? Yes. Look at you! He even affected you! His choices sucked, his lies sucked. Everything he did, sucked. But here we are. Marriage counseling, learning how to communicate, seeing where the marriage crumbled and learning how to rebuild. When I say we have a different marriage now, it’s the truth. Is the affair still affecting us? Yes. But it’s slowly getting there.

I have 22 years of marriage. 3 kids. I can not go forward without trying. I do not want to be sitting on different pews in a church watching our kids getting married. I don’t want to be sitting alone in some house waiting for grandkids to finish their visit at grandpas house before coming to see me. I can’t be 80 years old, and look back on my life and regret not trying. I want to see that I gave it my all. If my all doesn’t work? Than at least I know I tried.”

I tell him of the good. The good my husband is doing, how we communicate now, how we make time for each other. I can’t tell him of the incredible turn around in the bedroom, which I think is very important in a marriage…because it’s my dad… but I go on and on about the positives. I wonder at one point who I am trying to convince, him or me?

I can see he’s not buying it.

But here he is. 72. Alone. Not one of his relationships have worked. Not one of his marriages have made it. He has no relationship with one daughter. He pretty much abandoned me. If it weren’t for my close relationship with my grandparents, his parents, he and I would not be sitting here together now. He let me go into foster care, he never came for me. Both of my parents abandoned me, he will never understand why I am doing all I can to hold my family together.

I know he is coming from a place of concern. But Lord, I wish he would just support my choices, instead of this. He spends the rest of the evening talking of ruined trust, no respect, lies, cheating.

I get it. There is no changing his mind. So I slowly steer the conversation to politics. Much easier to talk about than infidelity. We don’t go back to it again. He is delusional, and not willing to see outside of his box. Maybe I am too.

But other than that? A very good trip. It was cut short due to hurricane Florence. Virginia was supposed to also get hit, so I left a day ahead of the track. I spend almost the entire trip driving the length of Virginia, so I didn’t risk it.

But now looks like I could’ve enjoyed another day or two there, as Florence has landed and shifted south instead of north.

My GPS wanted me to go past the whores house again. But now knew how to detour that myself and get home without going through whoreville.

All in all, running away for a few days was good. The long drive left me with lots of time to think. A bit of distance created some clarity. I could breathe a bit.

We have good moments, for sure. No matter what I tried to convince my dad about, and what I didn’t say, was that I’m truly at a crossroads.

Do I want it to work? Yes. Am I trying? Yes.

But he isn’t. He wants to sweep it under the rug and never look back. He still blames me. I still don’t feel much remorse from him.

I read other blogs, where there is true healing happening. They all have things in common. Transparency. Complete openness. Remorse. Humility.

He’s not there. Has never been. Can I truly move forward without that? I don’t know. In every other way, we are doing alright. There is love. There is the history, there is the future. I love him. It’s hard.

My dad may be right. But for now, I’m not on his path. I’m on mine.

Posted in affair, cheating husband, cognitive dissonance, extramarital affair, healing after the affair, husband, infidelity, marriage | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Out of town

Friday, I asked him if I could go to Kentucky.

Told him I wasn’t doing very good, the desire to go was overwhelming, and I would like to see my Dad.

He said,”Go. You need to see your Dad.”

I waited until Saturday to get my daughters work schedule. I’m her ride, her place of employment is being re-modeled, and they’ve moved employees to another restaurant, but she’s not guaranteed hours.

She’s not working this week.

So I contacted my dad. “Want some company?” He said, “absolutely.”

So I’m leaving at 8:30 this morning.

I’ve put visiting him off for three years. I have been afraid to leave!

I guess it was around month three of their affair, he started randomly pushing me to go see my Dad. I couldn’t get off work, and I didn’t really want to. I was confused why he was pushing me to go out of town.

Now I know why.

Still, it’s been hard to think of leaving. I would picture him running straight to her the minute I turned out of the driveway.

I talked with him last night. “I really want to go. I fear you will run straight to her?”

“Hell no”

I was quiet.

“It’s stupid, you know. This fear I have of leaving. You had a full blown affair with me right next to you for 8 months. If you wanted to, you could see her anytime. Whether I’m here or not.”

He looked at me. He nodded.

“Never again will I do that.”

So I’m off to the mountains.

Though I was not raised there, I consider it home. My grandparents lived there, and now my father lives in their house. It’s a meteor town. A little coal miner town nestled at the bottom of an ancient crater.

It’s slow there. They drive slow, they talk slow, they walk slow. Im craving it.

I didn’t live in this town, but I did say my first words in another town in Kentucky. My first 6 years were spent there.

It’s funny, when I go home, my accent comes back. But not as heavy as the locals. And I move fast. And they say I talk fast. And I drive fast. You should see me in the town hang out – Walmart – I am zipping through the isles, and people (folks) are looking at me so strange. It’s like they didn’t know the cart (buggy) could move that fast.

Gas is cheaper, too.

So I should get there around supper time (which is called dinner here in Maryland… but dinner there is lunch time. 🤷🏻‍♀️)

I’m looking forward to slowing down.

Tomorrow will be three years ago he decided having an affair would be a good choice to make. I just want to leave.

Posted in affair, cheating husband, extramarital affair, healing after the affair, infidelity | Tagged , , , , , | 4 Comments

Did he? Didnt he? Who cares now?

I’m obsessing over something ridiculous.

Welcome to my insanity. Sometimes it’s nice here. There’s usually some nature, quiet walks, deep thinking, cake, and wonderful thoughts of punching someone in the throat.

I have had a rule, so to speak, for about a year and half now… if something about the affair pops into my head, and I need an answer, I don’t say anything. I give myself 24 hours. If it’s still on my mind, I give myself time to think about how to ask him. If a day or two more go by, and I’ve forgotten, well? Then maybe it’s not that important and bringing it up would’ve been not such a good thing.

In all honesty, I usually forget way before the 24 hour time frame.

But this one is stuck. It’s been 72+ hours now. It’s stupid. I don’t know why I want to know. I don’t know why it makes a difference now. It doesn’t, actually.

We went to dinner at this adorable Irish pub in town. Great atmosphere, amazing food.

I’m happily shoving cottage fries down my throat, drinking a Magners, and I look down at his ring finger.

I almost choked.

He wears a Qualo ring. Actually, so do I now. I don’t think my gold band and diamond will ever be on my finger again.

I watch how he holds his fork. He’s eating Sheppard’s pie. I see how he reaches for his napkin. Every movement of his is familiar. I’ve watched him for almost 29 years.

The old wooden tables, plaster walls, and lace curtains, literally fade from my view… the scene around me changes to Perkins, the Family fucking Restaurant he took the whore to. I’m her now, watching him eat. Watching him smile. Reaching for his napkin, taking a drink. He looks up at me, but it’s not me he’s smiling at, it’s her.

It’s a trigger, Chris. You know this shit happens. Breathe through, get to the other side.

Don’t say anything to ruin this evening. We are doing good.

The Irish pub comes back. My eyes fall back on that silicone ring.

I want to know now… did he wear his ring when he took her out? He told me the ring would come on and off in the beginning. But then he kept it on.

I never saw him without it. Not once during their affair. The real band. The gold one I put on his finger when I said my vows.

Did he? Does it matter? Why am I obsessing?

Then I play it out… what do I want him to say?

What do I need?

I took it off to go out with her“. Well… that would make sense. You were a cheating, lying asshole, might as well play the part to it’s fullest. I hate you.

I left it on.” Curious… because this answer ignites pure hatred towards her. How could she sit there at dinner with him seeing that big gold band? Anger at him, too. But seething anger at her. I hate you both.

What the hell is my problem? There is no right answer.

What will it do to ask him? Nothing. It will do nothing.

Welcome to my insanity.

It’s ridiculous here. But there’s usually always cake.

…And throat punches.

Posted in affair, cheating husband, extramarital affair, healing after the affar, husband, infidelity, the other woman | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

I reach for him..

I’m just in my head today.

The moment I found out he was a liar and a cheat…


I think I ended that post with me laying in the grass.

I still remember that. I can still feel the cold grass, the sky was exploding with stars, I could see lightening bugs deep down in the grass slowly blinking. I remember I could smell the chilly air, the creek, earth. I could hear the two creeks that border this property meeting up and the rush of water is loud.

What I didn’t write in that blog was what happened after I laid down.

I think about that night a lot. It crosses my mind and I wonder.. I wonder. I just… wonder who that person was, is.

It crosses my mind again today.

My phone was in my pocket that night. I felt it buzz. I look at his message. “Where are you?” I turn off my phone.

I want to die. I want to curl up right here in this meadow next to this creek I love, and die. I want the earth to just swallow me up. I curl tighter, my knees are close to my face. I watch that lightening bug in the grass. I’m amazed they are out here so early. I wonder about them. I’m really good if that is the last thing I think about, the last thing I see.

Because if thoughts of them together are my last, well… that would just suck.

But then I hear him. He’s got a light and he’s searching. I don’t move. I hate him.

I love him.

I want to die.

I see his boots right in front of me. I hear words, but I don’t know what he’s saying. I feel his hands picking me up. He’s holding me, and moving me towards the house.

He has me in front of him, moving me along. I’m crying now. It’s raw, almost primal. His hands go across my chest, and my body reacts. We are passing in front of the barn now. He turns me and kisses me. He’s never kissed me like this. One hand gripping my hair, the other near my throat. Intense doesn’t come close to describing.

We move to the barn. No words.

I’m at war with myself. I didn’t know the term “Hysterical Bonding” at that time. I just found out he was having sex with another woman. How could I be doing this? I was angry at my body for reacting to him, I was angry at his betrayal, I didn’t know who I was.

I’ve never experienced such raw, angry, intense sex in my life. Haven’t since.

When we went to bed that night, I reached for him. I needed to feel him under my fingers.

The next night, I reach for him again. I just need to feel his heat and energy.

No matter if we start out wrapped around each other, when we roll away, I still reach for him.

It seems to keep me grounded. To feel him there. He commented once about it. I told him I don’t know why, but I have to reach for him, feel him there, then I can close my eyes.

Every night since, there he is. Under my fingers. Sometimes, depending on where my hand falls, I can feel his heart beat. I can close my eyes.

He’s there. He’s not with her. He’s not gone. He’s there.

He makes me crazy. We fight. We cry. We aren’t doing any of this right. What is the right way anyway? Some days we totally suck at this, and he’s selfish and a prick.

Some days I’m a complete insane bitch.

But he’s there. So am I.

Posted in affair, cheating husband, D-day, DDay, discovery day, extramarital affair, healing after the affair, husband, Hysterical Bonding, infidelity, marriage, suicidal thoughts | Tagged , , , , , , | 11 Comments