HUSBAND had been having a fully-engaged, big time affair. For a while. With slut-whore (SW). I did not have any idea what I should do. Whether I should scream from the mountaintop, or crawl into a hole and die, or tell him to take his lying self out of the house. At that moment, HUSBAND was with his dad at their vacation house helping repair a window, planning to head straight to his alone counseling session at 5:30. I had no idea what to do, no resources, no tools, a dying father in the room next to me and then mom walked in and asked me if I could read over the Hospice stuff she had just received. I told her no. I told her I was in a crisis, I could not breathe, and I did not want to be hugged. She was so dear…said its okay…and I continued in my confusion, in my horror and shock and humiliation and hurt and sadness and shame. My husband. An affair. Where they were talking about naming boats and staring at the stars from “their” house and marriage. My husband. My children’s Dad. I did not know what to do. I could not think. I could not move. I could not breathe. I began to look at all our phone records…and searched her on facebook…she had deleted her facebook…I had the flash memory of a comment or two she had made.
I did not know what to do, so I would not react. That’s right, not react. I would wait and see and pray. There was no way I could be in the house with my parents and our son who would be home from school soon, so I mustered up the strength to call HUSBAND with my best voice giving no hint of devastation and suggested we meet after his counseling session at a store to exchange something we’d bought. He agreed – telling me he would call at 7 when he left the session so to find out where to meet.
I could not sit there, so immediately left the house and drove to the Town Center praying praying praying praying praying praying praying praying. Praying that God would cover the counseling session. Praying that HUSBAND would decide he wanted to be committed to our marriage and not be strategizing about how to exit our marriage and smoothly transition to SW. Praying for guidance. Praying. Crying. Praying. I walked in the store, paced, pulled the printed copy of the LETTER out of my purse, read it, put it back, paced the store, went outside, back inside, read the LETTER again and again and again. I’m certain any security was monitoring me closely thinking I looked like a loose cannon.
And at 7:01 I began to wait for HUSBAND’s call…7:05…7:10….7:13…7:25…7:33…OMG he is done! My mind SCREAMED that he had dumped the truth on our counselor and they were figuring out the best way to let me know! Finally he called at 7:34 and said he was on the way. Right before getting off the phone, he said, “Hey – I just want to let you know – I think our marriage can make it.”
WHAT? HUSBAND, liar, cheater…he thinks our marriage can make it? This man who has been lying to me for the past ten months is now telling me he thinks our marriage can make it?
Somehow, I kept from SCREAMING INTO THE PHONE HOW DARE YOU and just said, “Really? Why is that?” And he said that he realized during his session that we both loved each other and if so, it might take some work, but we could do this.
In an odd way, this one statement shifted things so much. Now it was him talking of saving our marriage, the man who had been fucking another woman and lying to me and everyone else; the man who had the audacity to look at me THAT VERY MORNING and say he was committed to the process, but not our marriage, was now saying he wanted to save our marriage.
BREATHE. BREATHE. BREATHE. He got to the store, we walked through, looking for the item needed. I was sweating…my heart was pounding. I said nothing, was kind, even-keeled. He was clueless, CLUELESS and I was there dying. I suggested we go eat…I had no idea what I was going to do…no real plan…but KNEW I had to do something and going home to parents and son was not an option.
We sat down across from each other, ordered beers and looked at the menu. HUSBAND was almost jovial, big menu covering his face. I told HUSBAND I wasn’t too hungry and probably would just order another beer – very unusual for me. Then, with his head still buried in the menu, I asked HUSBAND if he had been honest with me. He said YES! I said, “Be careful, HUSBAND. There are some things I know.” He did not say anything. He lowered the menu. He looked me in the eyes. Then he said, “Things about what?” And I softly answered, “SW.” His face was dumbfounded. There was a long long silence, he looked down and back up. And I said, “Please tell me the truth.” And he did.
Denver-girl was never in the picture. She was a decoy that he put me on to take me off any trail of SW. He immediately told me he was so sorry. He told me that he loved me. I asked him if he had slept with her and he said yes. That one night. When I was in Washington on business. He was so sorry. He loved me. No idea how I got through that meal – did not eat and did drink another beer – and then got in my car, with him trailing me so closely I thought he might hit the back of my car. As we drove over one of the bridges required to get home, I had a moment of thinking it would make sense to drive off the bridge…let my car plunge into the river…get scratched up and bloody and broken on the outside so it would match the ripped up heart on the inside…
For the next four hours, he answered any question I asked and gave me details. Details of how they got together. Details of how they were communicating without being detected. Details about it getting too intense and slowing down but starting back up. Details about talking about a future together but then saying STOP. Details of one in-person encounter with NO SEX, and details of their overnight in a nearby beach town WITH SEX and life just went on. HUSBAND picked me up at the airport a couple hours after he dropped off SW at the same airport after their tryst. I was clueless. I sat in the car in the seat that only hours before his slut-whore occupied. We came home together. He came into our house with a penis that had been in another woman, with her caresses on his body, with her words in his ears. And I knew nothing. I washed the clothes that he had worn when that woman had her hands and lips and legs and breasts against HUSBAND. And the AFFAIR went on and on. I was sick to my stomach. He gave me details that she’d told him she loved him. And he told her he loved her too.
What can I say? Where do I go from here? I’m so overwhelmed. I still can’t breathe. I don’t think I will ever eat again. I feel so utterly stupid. I feel so dreadfully humiliated. I feel so shockingly naïve. I feel so deeply sad.
HUSBAND asked me to forgive him. I just couldn’t yet. It was too raw and fresh and painful. He told me it was over and would never happen again. He told me he loved me and wanted me to be his girl forever. He agreed to any and all counseling. He promised to be truthful. He said he understood that I have a HUGE process to work through. He told me that he did not realize how very much he loves me…and how much he was in love with me.
So at 2:20 am I sat in bed, completely unable to sleep at all. I knew that we had mountains of work to get through. Knew that I was overwhelmed. And I still couldn’t breathe. And I just pictured him in the hotel room with his arms entwined with another woman, that woman, slut-whore, SW. I pictured kisses and caresses and whispered words and moans and orgasms. I heard I love you. And then I threw up.
But I felt, deep inside in a little space in my soul that somehow, someway we were going to get through this. Then I curled back up in a ball and cried again.