Nope to Valentines Day.

Yeah, it’s a no from me.

I’m not ready.  I’m alright with that.  I’m comfortable.

VDay History:

1990-2015:  It was great.  We always gave each other something cute, a nice card, a nice evening.

2016: I wake up, he’s gone.  He doesn’t come home till late evening.  Where were you?  “Working”.  He brought me an orchid and some cupcakes.

After I found out about The Whore in April 2016, I asked about Valentines day again.  I asked again and again as the months went by.  Around 7 months later, he finally tells me.  Why it takes this fool so long to talk to me, I will never understand.  Why I put up with it, I will also never understand.

“After I got off of work, I went by her house.  Gave her some flowers, and then came home.”

Oh.. she got flowers.  How nice.

Did you give her a card? No.

Did you stay long?  No

Did you take her out to dinner?  No

“I just stopped by, gave her the flowers and then came home.”

What can I say?  I asked, he answered.  I also know he lies, but what can I say.  I know he stopped by, gave her the flowers and probably a little more in the bedroom.  I’m not stupid.

So here comes 2017:

I lose it.  Triggered like crazy.  I’m definitely better at control now, but last year, I was still in the fog, still flooding and triggering over every single little thing.

I am sitting in living room.  I look at him, I can’t stop thinking about the stupid flowers.  The cupcakes that he brought me the year before had our local grocery store name on them.  I knew the orchid came from same store.

I look at him, “Did you get her flowers from the grocery store too?”

He just looks at me.

“Did you?  Please just tell me.  Because if you don’t talk to me about it, I’m picturing 14 dozen red roses, tacky teddy bears holding hearts, balloons, glitter falling slowly from the ceiling, wine, bubbles floating around….just tell me.”

He just looks at me.

“My imagination will always be worse than the truth.  Or it could be spot on. Either way, I will no longer wonder.”

He just looks at me.  I look at him.  Time ticks by.  “Please just tell me.”

He looks at me, his eyes narrow a bit.  He says, “It’s none of your fucking business.”

I’ve told two real life friends this conversation.  Both of whom know my husband and I very well.  Both who have been with me from the moment I found out she exsisted, to the moment he said those words to me.  Both have been pulling for us.  Both of them had the same reaction when I told them what he said. “What?!!  It IS your business!  What the hell is wrong with him?”  The other simply raised an eyebrow and said, “Oh.  That would’ve been the line that got crossed for me.  He would be out. Hell no. It IS your business.”

I felt as though it was my business.  But I was trying to hold it together.  I got up, walked outside and went for a walk.  Yes, I told myself, it IS your business.  The bottom line is, it doesn’t matter what kind or where he bought the flowers, it only matters that it’s bothering ME, it’s driving ME insane, and he just needs to be open and honest.

I walked back into the house and asked again.  He just looked at me.  So I picked up my phone, put it on speaker, and called her.

I remember I tweeted that night about contacting her.  Boy did I get some stern, but caring, lecturing over it.  They were all correct though.  I should NOT have contacted her.  

I looked at him as it rang.  He smirked at me.  Like he didn’t think I had the balls to do such a thing.  She did not answer….but her voicemail identified it to be her.  His eyes got huge and he jumped up and tried to literally run out of the room.  I followed him with the phone in my hand while her voice rambled on that she wasn’t available to talk and to please leave her a message, she’ll get right back to you.

So in front of him I left the message, “Hi Toni.  It’s (me), (Cheaterface’s wife), I was hoping you would have answered. I have a few questions for you that I’m hoping you would be willing to answer.  Give me a call back!  Thanks!”  All of this said calmly and dripping with a smile in my voice.

I’m freaking nuts, I swear.

He calls me a couple of names and slinks away.

She texted me back.  “You are crazy.  I’m not talking to you.  You have been stalking me for a year over nothing.”

Oh, I needed to play this well.  I knew right away the game I needed to play.  I needed her to feel like her and I were against him.  I knew if I said anything mean, or nasty to her, she would scurry away like the rat she is.  I had to play this game well if I wanted any information.

I do not recommend thinking this way.  Why would someone that willingly slept with a married man be truthful?  She was not.  So much has come out since then and everything she said in these texts were lies.

I replied:

Meanwhile, I have not been stalking her for over a year. At this point, there’s been no communication or even social media jabs since the previous April/May when I found out.

Paranoid much?

I really need to make her feel like it’s her and I against him. I call him names and give her the victim card to play that I know she loves. I’ve never come across another human that so loves to be a victim. We text for about an hour.

Yes. He brought her flowers. She admits that.

“He stalked me” everyone stalks her. He told me that at least every other day, she would tell him men were stalking her. She accused me of stalking her.

He would come to my place of business and sit outside pouting and begging me to come out” maybe. Maybe. But this doesn’t sound like him at all. He’s never ‘stalked’ and not once in 27 years have I seen him in the way she described him. But then again, he was cheating and lying… and that’s also something I haven’t seen.

He came to me to put your family back together”

What the actual fuck? Does she really think him coming to her, them fucking, sneaking around town, burner phones and fake facebook accounts equals helping him put our family back together?! When did she become our marriage counselor?

I’m done with her. Weirdly though? At the very end of the conversation, she apologizes.

But it means nothing. Because if she was truthful, it would have mattered and been received. If HE was truthful, I wouldn’t still be seething all this time later.

I didn’t reply. Because what is she apologizing for? She lied the whole time.

Maybe I’m done with her. Maybe I’m done with him. All I have wanted this whole time is the truth.

I got nothing from the conversation with her but more lies and confusion. I really don’t recommend ever talking to the affair partner.

So here I am. All this time later, still processing through bullshit and lies. Still looking at him to own his part, be remorseful, and be truthful.

I’m sick of my own story.

I really need to get to a point where I realize I may not ever get the answers I need. Then I need to realize if that’s something I can live with.

Huh. Well look at that… I write this out, I re-live it a bit, and it already feels kind of ‘gone’. It’s stupid! It’s a stupid part of the journey, I know they are both liars, so why have I been dwelling on it? Why am I letting what they did then destroy Valentine’s Day now?

Here’s to next year…. it will be better.

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

Day 2 of silent treatment

Inside of an argument that has led to a 2 day silent treatment.

Just getting it out, because I’m going insane.

He’s mean. It’s a power play. His way, his control. Why do I put up with it?

I have my own stupidity in arguments. I’m no angel. I also have no problem owning what Ive said or done and I know how to apologize for it. He’s never been wrong, ever and never apologizes.

I think I’m still mad. Because I think he as apologized once or twice, but right now I can’t see that.

Friday:

Our oldest applied for help for college. We filled out the all the forms. He gets denied. The forms required our financial information from 2015. That was the affair year, and also one of the worst years for the business. I really have no hand in our finances. I hate to admit it, but I have no idea what is going on. He takes care of everything. The money from my paycheck pays kids stuff, groceries and gas. His pays the big stuff. When we filled out the part of what we made that year, I was sort of shocked. How could we have made that much that year? Because of that amount, our son was denied help.

I had a surreal moment when we read the denial. I felt my insides rolling, my blood pressure went sky high, and I could feel I was physically and emotionally about to lose it. I tried so hard to let it roll off, I fought myself hard. But it had been boiling in there for a few days. We filled out that paperwork just a few days before the denial came and I’ve been trying to wrap my head around the amount we made that year. It didn’t seem plausible. I hadn’t questioned it at all since that night and maybe I should have. He was with her 4 months out of that year, and we lost a lot that year. Our health insurance, our dental, and he just seemed to absolutely never have any money. I covered birthdays and holidays. All of that happened during the time he was with her.

So the denial letter comes in. I can’t control it. God, I tried. I turned to him and repeated the amount we made that year. I said it again. Then I took a jab, “Well, how much of that was spent on HER? Because you never had an extra dollar the last four months of that year!” Honestly? The affair went from Sept. that year till April of 2016. He didn’t have an extra dollar for anything that entire time. Funny how when they are over, we suddenly have money for trips, a Camaro, and my piddly little paycheck isn’t being stretched as hard any longer.

Interesting.

Anyway, he flips out. Throws whatever is in his hand down and gets up and walks across the room yelling at me. “You have no idea what that amount of money means! NO IDEA! You are STUPID if you think we didn’t have money that year because of her! YOU ARE DUMB. You say the MOST UNINTELLIGENT shit!” I said, “At least I know how to spell unintelligent.” He said, “Yeah? So can I. U-N-….. and spells my name out after that.” He goes on to call me stupid, dumb and unintelligent at the top of his lungs for what seems like an hour. Me yelling back.

We are getting no where. I hate when he calls me names. Any name. He does it to hurt, and he’s cruel.

He said there is something broken in me that I can’t move on. He said I need help. He said he has no more time for me wanting to still talk about the affair. He says he is “Done with all that.”

Meanwhile… we really haven’t started talking about it. Just trickle truth here and there every few months for the past 20 months. We have really gotten nowhere. We (he) quit counseling. We don’t talk. If I try, he throws an over-theatrical fit. I think this is his way of making sure I don’t continue the conversation.

During this argument, he states that he really doesn’t think he did anything wrong during the affair. Why? Why didn’t he do anything wrong? Because according to him, he was leaving me. So he didn’t feel like he did anything wrong. Never mind that I DIDN’T KNOW HE WAS LEAING ME. Never mind that even though I knew something wasn’t right with him, WE were still having sex like spring rabbits! The whole time was a complete mind fuck, orchestrated by HIM.

At one point, he told me my self esteem is so low, that I need him to function. He said that I am no one without him.

I want to throat punch him.

We yelled at each other for about 10 minutes, and I left. I went out, and later he went out with the kids.

I come home, go to bed. Watch TV, read. I fall asleep. I wake up to the kids laughing, sounds like they are playing monopoly. He’s not in bed. I check the time. It’s 11:58. I go downstairs, and he turns off his phone and puts it upside down next to him. Really? Whatever. Fuck him. I go back to bed. He comes up about 15 minutes later, but I’m furious at this point. He lays down and almost immediately his breathing falls into a rhythm that I know will have him out in seconds. Nope.

“Hey. Can you sleep on the couch?” I know, in my state, I will not allow either of us to sleep. I’m so pissed. There’s no way. In my head I keep hearing him spell out unintelligent with my name in there. Him staying up all night and flipping that phone over when I came into the room… the sheer amount of cruelty that spewed from his face during that argument… there’s no way. Go. Just go back down and I’ll see you in the morning. I even said “please”

He did. He stomped and slammed and pounded down the stairs. Banged around down there for a bit and then in no time I could hear him snoring.

Yesterday: Nothing. Not a word. If I spoke to him it was one word answers. Around 2 he tells our son he has to go look at a job. I raise an eyebrow. Really? Because yesterday you said you had nothing to do today. He says nothing. He knows where my train of thought is right now. Saturdays during the affair? He would always have a job to look at. In the morning. Then he would meet me at our daughters basketball game. But always had a job to look at. Even though looking back, none of those “jobs” resulted in anything. But to this day? He denies that he went over to her during those Saturday morning “looking at a job” Says I’m ridiculous.

So yesterday, he says, “I’m sick of you always thinking along those lines. I’m actually done with that.” Ok. You’re done with that.

I don’t even know what to say.

He slept on the couch last night too. No word to me at all. I’m being given the silent treatment. The last time this happened? I broke down in tears and begged him to come back to bed. I asked him a couple of days after that if he would’ve broken down and come to me? He said, “No.”. What does any of this accomplish? I don’t understand.

I don’t understand. He’s still in cheater mode. He’s still in shame and justification. He still puts in all on me. I’m still the cause and the reason for it all. I’ve owned my part in the marriage disintegrating. I’ve spent 2 years tearing myself down and rebuilding as best as I can. Aware of my faults, why I come at things the way I do. I’ve gone to therapy, I feel like I’m doing this on my own.

Fuck your silent treatment. I guess I’m doing the same thing though? But I’m always the one to break down and beg. I don’t know if I want to do that this time.

I need to take care of me. I can’t worry about him. If he wants to talk, or come back to our bed, I will listen. But I can’t handle this anymore. Let him worry about himself. If he wants to sleep on the fucking couch, let him. It’s actually not comfortable. I know, I’ve spent many nights there. Was I right to flip out about the money? No. I needed to recognize that I was flooding. I needed to see that I was upset for our son and it was days that I was stewing over the money made that year. It boiled. Actually? I don’t think it was as bad as he made it out to be. I’ve definitely said worse.

Looking back, it would’ve been nice if he just said, “I hear you. I see you’re upset. I can even understand why you would think money went to her. But let me show you our paperwork from that year so you can see where the money went. I’m sorry you feel like this. Let me help you through it.”

Maybe I’m in fantasy land, too. Or Wishful Thinking Land. Maybe I need to just get on my unicorn and ride the fuck up out of here.

Well, I don’t even know what I’ve written. I’m not even going to spell check or re-read it. I’m just going to hope that I can look back at this one in a month or so and shake my head that I’m this upset over something that may be trivial by then. I’m so freaking upset right now.

Yesterday I tweeted about the summer kitchen that I throw bottles in. I think I’m heading out. I can’t tell you satisfying it is to throw glass up against those old fireplace bricks.

That old building is coming down this spring. I will miss the relief it has brought me.

I swear I’m not going to beg. Fuck his silent treatment. I say it’s abusive. But… am I doing the same? I don’t know.

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Just me.

I have time off work.

I feel pressured to get stuff done, but my body and mind just say “Stop.  It’s OK. Relax.”

I’m actually starting to sleep.  Nine days now that I have slept well.  That’s something new.  I can also tell you, sleep does wonders for the complexion.

I should be editing a shoot, but instead I’m watching the hilarious antics of the geese in the yard.  I wish I could tell them apart, some of them are super snarky and mean, some just take it and seem happy not being an asshole goose.  Maybe I should move my desk so I can’t see out of the window. But they are so much fun to watch.

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Do you know, with this time off… I am in the house alone a lot.  Kids are off to school, he’s off at work.. I have not gone through his stuff.  His iPad lays on the counter.  I have not touched.  His computer is right there… I have not touched.

Part of me is super proud, the other part is super pissed that I have to be proud that I’m not going through is stuff.  Another part of me knows that it really doesn’t matter.  I never found anything in that stuff anyway… he had a burner phone and fake facebook account.  It’s not like he wouldn’t do the same thing again if there is someone new, or he’s talking to her again.

Though, I don’t think there is anyone else and I don’t think they are talking.  But I’m not fully trusting that anyway.  I’m not sure trust ever really comes fully back.

I find I’m quiet.  I function through the chores, I put dinner on the table.  But I’m quiet.  I recognize I’m probably depressed.  I’m alright with that.  I have found that if I don’t fight that low feeling then I will do much better coming up for air.  I find if I just accept the ride for what it is, it’s been easier to handle.

Every time I sign in to wordpress, I see a draft I’ve been working on forever.  I think I’m avoiding it. It’s the end of their affair.  Or, supposedly how and when it ended.  This has been a huge hurdle for me and something I’ve been stuck on since I found out.  I have to get the balls to finish that post.  I’m not sure why I’m stuck.  I’m hoping if I can finish it, read it, look at it, and that it may help get over that hurdle.  I just know I get insanely angry and confused when I think of it.

I think of it often.  Too much, really.

If the weather allows it, I’ve been taking a walk around the farm every day.  I ask Siri in the morning when sunset is and I make sure I’m out there in the evening to watch the sun fade away.  I can handle cold, but freezing winds whipping over the meadow and creek are not fun, I won’t venture out then. Winter months are hard for me,  I need to be outside, it feeds me.

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2:30am musings of the other woman.

Toni. Aka: TrashWhore.

(My name for her. She’s garbage. They met up next to some dumpsters at Taco Bell with my son in the car, and there’s a lovely picture of her floating around with her in a dumpster..trashwhore)

She knew my husband when they were 10. They had the same last name. One of them moved. Years later, she dated and married a guy in the very large group that hung out at the only mall for miles.

I actually knew her first husband, way back then, but not her.

Husband #1 and her divorced in 2001, he passed away in 2005. For the life of me, I can’t remember if my husband went to the funeral, I did not, as I barely knew him and was home with an infant at the time. I’m not sure why I haven’t asked my husband if he went… maybe I will later. His obituary actually states Toni is his ex-wife and friend.

She married husband #2, and they moved to another state. According to my husband now, from what she told him, husband #2 had children from a previous marriage, and she was the only one bringing in any money. This annoyed her and she divorced him in 2012, but she was already living with husband #3 when that divorce happens. Looks like there’s a story there.

She married husband #3 in 2012.

My husband is in construction. He has run his own company since 1995. Sometime early in 2014, he tells me he’s doing a complete hardwood floor job close by. He tells me his jobs, and we talk about them, but he did not tell me it was the widow of that long ago friend that passed away.

He tells me now though that she reached out to him through Facebook to do her floors. I do remember him coming home and talking about her husband, their dogs, the floors and how happy he was the job was close. Close jobs save him in fuel. The work trucks and vans are gas hogs.

During this time, we are living in one house and working on this farm house. This old farm was not livable, and we put a year of hard work into it before we could move in.

January 2015, husband #3 passes away. He actually makes the local news when he passes and front page of the paper. He’s a huge fan of our NFL team and he hung on at home for a major rival game. He passed away right after the win. The team honored him as a fan and sent flowers and some of the players tweeted out their respects for him, so he made the news.

My husband went to the funeral. Telling me it was the floors he did, he got to know him, good guy, good client and all that. He again left out who the wife was. Actually from the moment he started the floors, to me finding out about the affair, I did not know who the wife was.

March 2015, I need to use his computer for something. I think it was his scanner, mine was not working. On his screen is his Facebook page and messenger was up. It’s a message from Toni. She says something to him about thank you for coming to funeral, sorry she got my name wrong, she had been given a Xanax that night and was out of it.

There was no reply from him.

So I checked out her page. First off, she mentions me in her message to him, so I was curious how the widow of the floor job was doing. How sad for her.

I found her a bit annoying, really. There was a ton, and I mean a ton of selfies. Mostly looking off to the side, like someone had taken it for her. She would pose her dogs and cats on her chest and take the picture from above, so you could see cleavage. Cleavage dog shots… ok, that’s a new one.

She would pose with a clearly sad face, generating a lot of comments to cheer up! You’re beautiful! Smile!

Her statuses were all abut everything she was doing. “I just made coffee, and I took a sip.” “Oh, these kids of mine make me take them out all the time!” (Her kids are her dogs. She has no human children) “I’m going to wear boots today at work and kick some ass!” “I’m going to make some pasta because I’m sad.” “I just blinked, can you believe it?”

The pictures, the posts…nope. She was a big nope to me immediately. She annoyed me right away. Maybe that was a premonition.

As the year went on, I would see her name pop up on posts of his, she would like this or that, she would comment on band pictures, she would comment on pictures of him and our kids.

No big deal to me. He has a lot of followers on the band page, and his personal page. I paid her no attention.

Beginning of September 2015… my husband goes to her. Beginning of October 2105… they start fucking.

In her bed. Where her husband passed. In her home. In front of her dogs. These dogs were her and her husbands “fur babies.”

There’s a long history for her and my husband. Not so much entwined together, but just knowing each other through groups of friends that have come and go.

Why didn’t he tell me it was her when the floor job was being done?

He says he doesn’t know.

I ask him if something happened with them during that floor job.

He says no. Did she flirt with you? No. Did you flirt with her? No.

Has he always wondered about her? If fate kept putting her in his path for a reason? (Or that we live in a small town, and no one ever really leaves)

He says he doesn’t know.

I ask him if it was her Facebook posts that sparked an interest.

He says maybe.

I ask, “what made you just go to her out of nowhere?” He says, “I knew she would like me, and I just wanted to be liked.” “How did you know she would?”

He says he doesn’t know. He just knew.

Did he fuck her during the floor job??

Because honestly? Looking back, our marriage changed around that time. I chalked it up to working on the farm house. There were other things going on too, but looking back to that time, I was working hard on the house, so was he. But he seemed annoyed with me. He actually seemed like he hated me at times. I thought it was the stress of the house, the move. He treated me like shit.

But was it because he did something he shouldn’t have done during that job? After a decent amount of time after husband #3 passed, he made his move on her?

Does it make a difference now?

Maybe. Yes. Yes it does, I think. Will I ever know? Maybe I’ll ask. I’ve not thought of this before.

The floors… the way he treated me…. maybe I’m crazy.

Maybe I’ve been up since 2:30… it’s 5am now. Maybe I need to try and make it to the kitchen for some coffee to get this day started.

Posted in affair, cheating husband, discovery day, healing after the affair, homewrecker, infidelity, mistress, the other woman, Uncategorized, whore | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

What part did she get?

I wrote that blog last night, got up, gathered my things and went to bed.

This morning, it was still on my mind. I guess he could feel it, even though I’m doing my best to talk about the cat, the wood stove, the cold.

“Did you sleep well?” “Somewhat.”

“What’s wrong.”

I take a deep breath. Take a drink of coffee. Check my tone for calmness.

“You sitting there playing last night. It hit me that when you left, you took your other guitar. It just dawned on me that you did the same with her. Sat around her house playing for her.”

“Never. I didn’t take it over, she’s never heard me play.”

What? I point out that that makes no sense. His music is a part of him. A huge part…it’s just him. He can’t go a day without playing, and often it’s hours later that he puts it down once he has picked it up.

“She never heard you play?” “No. Never.”

“But that’s a huge part of who you are.” “She didn’t get that part.”

He leaves for work and the question floats around in my head….

What part did she get?”

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I just can’t right now.

He’s sitting next to me playing his acoustic guitar.

I used to feel comforted by it.

Now I know I’m not the only one who has sat next to him, listening to him quietly play and sing.

I used to fall asleep with my head resting on him, his voice sending me off to dreams.

I fear I will never feel that security again.

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Was she worth it?


I’m checking the mail yesterday.  It’s a nice distance and walk to the mailbox.  

My walk takes me past a cattle barn, an old corn crib, abandoned farm equipment, another storage barn and a silo.  These buildings are on my left on the way down to the mailbox.  On my right is a wooded hill, with a steep slope.  I can see deer tracks going up the hill, and it makes me smile.  They are smart.  There’s a hunter that hunts the back of the property and they seem to  keep to this patch of woods and hills, far from him.

I love this old farm.  It’s a peaceful walk today, the weather is nice.  I watch a male and female cardinal hopping around, taking advantage of this unusually warm winter day.   There are two streams that meet up at the corner of the property, creating what I’ve nicknamed ‘the waterfall’ and I can hear the rush of the water as I near the mailbox.  It’s such a nice day.

On my way back, I stop and look at the cattle barn. It’s old white-washed sides have me itching  to do something artistic.  Maybe a set of wings painted?  It would be a fun photo spot when I have people here for photograph sessions.  I picture the wings, I picture my daughter standing in them.  Do I want angelic wings?  Or maybe something more Malificent like?  That’s more my style. 

Something rustles in the trees behind me and I turn to see what it is.  I’m looking, but I don’t see anything.  I’m hoping it’s the stray orange tabby that’s adopted our barn recently.  I don’t see him.

My glance falls on a rusty old bucket half buried in the hillside.

My stomach turns. 

Out of nowhere.  Right the hell out of nowhere, it hits me like a flood.  The rush is so strong that I’m having trouble catching my breath.

Its February 2016.  I see the most adorable project on Pinterest that requires a rusty bucket. I text him, “Hey, I need an old rusty bucket, have you seen one around here?”  “Yep.  I saw one up the hill in front of the barn.”

He’s having a full blown affair at the time. Was he in her bed when he answered my bucket inquiry text?  Was he on his way to her bed? Did he tell her his stupid wife wanted a stupid rusty bucket? Did he laugh with her and say “My wife, that I’m totally leaving and absolutely not sleeping with, wants an old rusty bucket. Hahahaha.. You would never want a rusty bucket.”

Stupid bucket. Now I’m pissed.  It’s hitting me from all sides. Damn it! Fuck! I know they didn’t sit around and laugh at me about a bucket.  I’m absolutely ridiculous right now.  Good Lord, am I bipolar??

I yell at him the rest of the way back to the house.  There are no neighbors to hear.  

“Fuck you! Was she worth it? Was she?! You cheated on me, you left us twice!  You hurt me, our marriage, our kids.  You told me over and over you were not leaving them, you were leaving me.  But how stupid are you!? You would be leaving them, because you would not be in their daily lives! Was she worth changing our lives? Their lives?  None of us will ever be the same you selfish prick! Ever! Was she worth it!!!??”

I recognize I’m flooding. My heart rate is up, I’m breathing hard, I’m crying…and in the flood I hear a whispered answer….

Yes, she was…. She was worth it. I believe to him, she was. Because he thought she was. 

To cheat, to leave us, to lie?… to him, she was worth it.  She had to be.

Maybe not now.  I can give us that. We have come a long way.  But then?  To him?  She was worth it.  Fuck them both. 

I make it back to the house.  Breathe. There’s a firewood delivery coming, and I’m looking forward to stacking it.  

He comes home during the delivery.  I’m almost finished stacking. He smiles at me, kisses me.  “Thanks for stacking.”  Sends me inside and finishes.

I make dinner, we all sit around our table joking and talking about our day. I watch him during dinner…does he ever look at us and think, “I could have lost my family?”

He’s smiling and laughing with our son. He tells me this ham is the best he’s ever had.  We have a good evening.  

He doesn’t know.

Stupid bucket.

Posted in affair, cheating husband, extramarital affair, healing after the affair, homewrecker, husband, infidelity, lies, marriage, mistress | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

What was he doing those days after DDay?


I’m writing a post about how their affair ended.  

In doing so, and as I look back on those days right after I found out the truth, some of the things he did have me shaking my head a bit.  Though the fog is definitely clearing, some things I just can’t quite see clear.  I’m finding as the fog clears, I’m having a lot of ‘WTF’ moments.

For instance, his car.

I found out the truth April 25, 2106. In an attempt at reconciling and trying to survive, I asked him if he wanted to go to a car event for a weekend in May.

(I’m a huge Stephen King fan and the Christine car was going to be there that weekend.  I’m completely obsessed over that car, my dream to own a ‘58 Plymouth Fury will come true one day) 

He agreed, it was our first trip alone in almost 17 years (kids) and it was amazing.  (I teared up a little when I saw Christine…  lol) 

He caught the muscle car bug that weekend.  Fine with me, late 60’s early 70’s Chevy’s are hot 😏

By very early June, we had a Camaro in the driveway. It’s a 2000, not quite the classic that I love, but this car is pretty hot too. 😊

I didn’t know it at the time, but he kept taking me to where she shops.  We would take the car into that town and shop. We never shopped there. Ever.  

Now that I know that’s where she shops, was he hoping to see her? Did he want her to see the car?  Did he want her to see us together?  

Why?  Did he want me to see her?  

When her and I went at it with each other over text, he told me “Tell her you caught me with someone else”

This one confuses me more.  Why would he want me to tell her that?  Make her jealous? Make her think she wasn’t important?  Make ME think she wasn’t that important? Was there another OW?

Later, SHE told me something that has had me confused and pissed for quite some time now…

This is her to me:

At first I didn’t know what she was talking about.  So I went to our texts and scrolled through pictures we have sent, and damn if there wasn’t one.  I had a moment in mid April, sent him a saucy shot.

It was the only one.  That means they were still talking after he “picked” me.

When I confronted him? He admitted he told her that.  Said it was the last time they talked or texted.

I was PISSED. Who the hell was he to tell his mistress that his wife sent him a picture like that? Why? What is the point?

He says, “I thought she would be happy for me that you and I were reconciling” 

Wtf? It looks to me like he was trying to make her jealous?  He says No.  Not at all.  Just thought she would be happy for him.  He said her reply was, “Are you trying to piss me off?” 

Why would she tell me about that? Throw him under the bus a little?

Were those days after Dday just limerence on his part?  I don’t know.

This is just the shit that runs through my head when I wake up at 3am.  Why take me and that car around where she goes? Why try to make her jealous by telling her about my picture and that I caught him with someone else besides her?

I write it and look at it, and I think I can see it.  

Not that it makes much difference now, I guess.  

I’m still just trying to wrap my head around it all, I guess.

Posted in affair, cheating husband, DDay, discovery day, healing after the affair, homewrecker, husband, infidelity, lies, marriage, mistress, the other woman, Uncategorized, whore | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Rambles and jumps

Rambling today…

Who am I?  I know what I do.  I know where I am.. but who am I anymore?

So many of us post and come here anonymously. I know that hiding behind anonymity has given me freedom to just write it out, tweet it out, get it out.

It was a year and a half ago when I sent my first tweet.  A year and a half ago I started blogging about the affair.

When I created the anonymous twitter account, my first search on day one was using the hashtag #infidelity.  The first person I found was a man dealing with the after effects of his affair. 

He was so honest about his own journey.  His healing wasn’t instant and he often found himself torn. Though he stayed with and committed to his wife, he struggled through the process.  I found myself hating his AP, pulling for his wife, pulling for him.  His honesty was what I was looking for in my husband.  I am still looking for it. 

Since that first follow, I’ve ‘met’ over a hundred others in this situation. Mostly betrayed wives, a few betrayed husbands and a small handful of spouses that did the betraying.  All have helped me on my own journey.  Their stories have given me my own perspective and understanding of my situation. I am not alone.

I find I am drawn to the stories of the betrayer that is going through remorse and understanding.  I realize that’s what I’m searching for in my husband.  

I have recently been drawn to blogs from the other woman’s point of view.  I have also recently stepped away from reading them as I was literally smacking myself in the forehead a little too much.  Maybe trying to understand them is not part of my journey.  

Though I am drawn to the above types of stories, I also have to say I find myself relying on those that are similar to mine.  These are the ones that I know will grab my hand, so to speak, and pull me back up out of a trigger, a bad day, shed a different light on something I can’t quite see in the dark. 

I have introduced myself to a few tweeters/bloggers.  Two of whom I’m Facebook friends with and I feel we may be friends from afar for years. I think I will always be invested in their journey and hope for the best for them.  Their path is so similar to my own that I can’t help but invest.  It gives hope and strength to my own path.

(One is a straight up gourmet chef and if I’m ever in her neck of the woods, I’m totally inviting myself over 😊.)

But who am I? I, more often than not, feel lost. I no longer know who I am.  

I so want to step outside of this #infidelty hashtag.  I don’t want it to define me. I don’t just want to be a betrayed wife trying to put one foot in front of the other.  

Since dday, that’s who I’ve been: Betrayed Wife.  

Everyday his affair touches my life.  My thoughts. My sleep. My life. My actions. 

I have to be more?  There was a different woman before this.  Where is she?

Who am I? 

I don’t know yet.  I think I’m alright with that.  I’ll find her.

Wow..This post really jumps around.  I’m not sure its point 😂. 

I jump from the journey of others, to trying to figure out who I am.  Maybe it all ties together.  I don’t know.

😊

Posted in cheating husband, DDay, discovery day, extramarital affair, healing after the affair, husband, infidelity | Tagged , , , , , , | 3 Comments

With this ring, I thee wed..

My rings are off.  They have been for a while. 2 months?  Maybe more?

They came off during a horrible fight around the time the fake Facebook drama happened.  He called me the most vile names on the planet, told me he wanted me to move out, and we were done.  I ripped those rings off and threw them across the room.  Found them the next day and put them in a drawer.

I have no desire to put them back on.  He doesn’t wear his band either, instead he wears a qualo ring.  

I hate that ring.  He took his band off and switched it with that rubber ring without talking to me at all.  He’s in construction and told me this was a safer choice in a ring.

But yet, he wore his wedding band for 20 years before this.  Never a problem.  Now he needs to be safe.

That was over a year ago when he switched to the (what I call) rubber band ring.

He told me at one point in this past year that he’s ashamed of his wedding band.  That it feels ‘tainted’ to him.  Shame.  He shamed it. 

(He absolutely did shame it.  He admitted to taking it off to be with her. It was always back on when he was with me. I never saw him without it)

He doesn’t really say anything to me about mine being off.  

Honestly, they feel heavy to me.  Too much weight being carried in all that symbolism worn on my left hand.

I don’t feel secure enough to put them back on.  When he slid my band onto my finger 22 years ago… he made promises that he didn’t keep.  

Mine feel tainted now too.

Counselor says, “many couples will renew their vows and purchase new rings”

This doesn’t appeal to me at all. That falls back onto the whole, “The marriage before the affair is over” crap that pisses me off.

He was 24 when he scrapped and saved for my engagement ring.  It’s a simple, beautiful diamond. My band is just that, a band. I picked it out. Classic.  I loved them.  I don’t want another set.

Maybe I’ll get a rubber band ring too.  Like he did. Easy to take off, and no promises were made with it, so no shame can be attached to it.

Are yours on?  Off?  Do you know if your spouse removed them or kept them on while with the AP?

Posted in affair, cheating husband, healing after the affair, infidelity | Tagged , , , , , | 13 Comments