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Picturing AP

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tushnurse posted 10/22/2020 14:16 PM

It's normal stuff as others have said.

My H had the decency to commit his A in another town 4 hours away.
There were many times in the early days that I was tempted to get in my car, drive there, slash her tires, report her to he licensing board, and burn her house down. I never did.
She was an Divorce attorney, and he was her 3rd AP. I just shake my head now when I think about it.

She is no longer an attorney... not sure if she lost her license, or just decided to do something else that brings in a heck of a lot less money. I like to think she lost her license. Whatever.....

You will reach indifference one day. You really will. It may take some years, but it happens.

The1stWife posted 10/23/2020 05:15 AM


Wow! The tattoo trigger. The OW was covered — and I mean covered in tattoos. Arms (full) legs back and neck and shoulders and boobs. Every photo she had her tattooed boobs on display. They hung out of every shirt she owned. I guess they were her best assets.

She was a social media whore too.

Two things my H hates - social media and tattoos. Not sure how he ended up with that one as an OW.

GTeamReboot posted 10/25/2020 23:05 PM

This was a somewhat cathartic and entertaining thread. Unfortunately picturing the APs in my case is easy. Both were friends. One was a BFF. I did just hear that the BFF bought a house about 45 min away. Her kids and Ex-H are still close by so odds of a random Target run-in have dropped but still aren’t zero. The other also lives about that far away and I strongly suspect she’s afraid to run into me and probably avoids our Target. Lol. As she should. I have thoughts about what I would say. Would I chicken out? Maybe. But she really shouldn’t want to find out. Lol.

jailedmind posted 10/26/2020 04:09 AM

Yep. Every time I see a construction worker in orange I trigger. Went to his hotel room but he never came out. Had to drive by his worksite twice a day. I triggered everyday from that. To say I wanted him to die a very painful death would not be an exaggeration. He was a slick talker who I was polite too a couple of times. After D day he no longer thought I was a nice guy lol

Evertrying posted 10/26/2020 17:39 PM

I don't know my husband's AP. Never met her, don't run in the same crowd. I have only seen pictures of her.

Every time I see a woman jogging down the street I look. (AP was a runner) But she and her husband live in another town about 35 miles from us, so running into her is slim.

I have to admit though, that right after dday I drove past her house. THE HOUSE THAT SHE FUCKED MY HUSBAND IN! That was a BIG trigger, but I had to see her house. It kinda made me feel better that her house wasn't well kept. It's older, grass and landscape overgrown, needs paint, etc. Makes sense I guess because my husband told me the inside of her house was a pig sty.

ShatteredSakura posted 10/26/2020 19:11 PM

I don't know my husband's AP. Never met her, don't run in the same crowd. I have only seen pictures of her.

Thank god I'm in that same boat.

I despise his name and cringe whenever I hear it. Thankfully not many people I know or work with have his name.

Mickie500 posted 10/26/2020 19:17 PM

I actually would welcome seeing her in person. I would love a confrontation. I’ve acted it out in my head. The only thing I’d that I wouldn’t want my child to be present.

78monte posted 10/26/2020 23:40 PM

Yup, I get pisses off when I see someone who looks like my wifes AP. Can't even watch a movie with Robin Williams, as my wife thinks her AP resembles him.

marriageredux959 posted 10/27/2020 00:24 AM

Everytime I see a short blonde woman that might possibly be her I get the urge to smash her in the face with a fish.
(H and OW bought me a fish to cover their dirty weekend as a boys fishing trip)
If I ever see her irl it's mutha-fukin-tuna-time! (Who am I kidding. I'd never hit anyone, but imagining it makes me feel better)

I'm serious- God gives each of us what we can handle, right?

I'd serve his ass fish on every high holy holiday and every anniversary and every Valentine's Day for the rest of his miserable life.


Honestly, that's more insulting than a cheap assed fuck.


(thank you, everyone, for being patient with my mouth)

If you're just not feeling it, but the day must be acknowledged, regardless, you can serve fish sticks.

You know the ones- elementary school cafeteria fish sticks.

I know them well... I went to Catholic school... (yes the uniform the nuns the whole nine yards.)

Every Friday, fish sticks.

If you really want to make a point, don't bother with cocktail sauce or tartar sauce.

Ketchup out of the squeeze bottle, canned corn and, um... boiled cabbage. LOL.

marriageredux959 posted 10/27/2020 02:16 AM

There's another side to this, and perhaps there is some overlap, something here on this side that will help you all...

... for me, and even for Husband, the 'AP' (not quite apples to oranges, she was a sex worker in a high octane 'gentleman's venue') was/is quite ephemeral.

She could be anybody, or nobody.

I honestly do not hate her in the least. She has no personal power at all over me. She could be a toll booth or a washing machine in a laundromat. She took the money and she got the job done. (And that is way more dismissive than I intend. It's not *even* a function of her personal worth. See below.)

I really want to have, and have, repeatedly, actually, smashed that fish so to speak in my husband's face repeatedly for having clay feet and for being so gloriously self absorbed. And for being conflicted about who he is and what he wants.

I was initially fixated on the other woman's appearance, her attributes, her exotic qualities and presentation and the idea that my husband had to negotiate transactionally to have access. She was the quintessential carrot, whereas I was at home with two sick babies trying to hold our world together, despite him being off on this spur of the moment trip that seemed very much to me, at the time, like a flight of fancy. I was the unwitting, unaware, unintentional stick to her carrot. (And I'm sure there's a solid chance that she'd trade places with me in a heartbeat.)

And in the interim (many years) in between what happened and me finding out the truth about it, of course, I'm the wife: I'm the family, the bills, the house, the job, the flu, repeated bouts of pink eye, vomiting in the car, mediocre report cards, parent teacher conferences, college tuition, flat tires, etc. etc.

And all the stress, with the stress on top.

I wanted something different, for both of us. I always did. I wanted something more. And I tried very hard to bring that into fruition.

Husband is a different person than me. He wears that stress like a hair shirt, and simultaneously like a badge of honor. He actually gets something, quite a bit really, from it. I think it's his self imposed male version of the Madonna/Whore Complex.

And I strongly suspect that I've gotten pigeon holed into his own Madonna/Whore Complex projected onto me as well, based on things he's told me about his dating and superficial relationship past.

His mother is a stick in the spokes, judgmental, not afraid to leverage that judgment on you, prude. And one of the major tools in her tool box is withholding. It's a well known thing in the family. She will withhold affection. She will withhold attention. She will withhold validation and approval. She will withhold sex from her husband. Yes, prude that she is, she's played that hand hard enough that even *this* has leaked out to the fam.

My husband was/is semi-hopelessly attracted to Bad Girls and simultaneously terrified of them and their potential damage and impact- and rightly so. I say 'semi-hopelessly' because I believe this thing is never, ever going to go away, but I also believe he doesn't act on it *every time.* Until, he does.

I was the Happy Compromise. I love the hell out of sex, the earthier the better. I don't 'make love' in the bedroom, I F*CK. 'Making love' is when I cook you a nice dinner or I dress up nicely for an evening out. You get the picture.

And, you can take me out in public. You can take me home to mama. I won't drain your bank account and wreck your world.

All fine and good until we got married and had babies.

My husband loved those babies more than life itself- but I do believe I lost *something* in that transaction. I became, domestic. I can't be a Bad Girl now if I want to be- not unless I do something overtly destructive- which I will not do.

You see what's happening here? Do you see what happened to me?
I could be as earthy, and attentive, and available, and sexual as a minx...
... but the friction, the spark, the octane, the frisson for Hubs was the tension, it was the withholding, followed by the simple, transactional, purely sexual satisfaction of the having without weird emotional complications.

And it's not like *I* was weirdly, emotionally complicated or withholding. In fact, I was most assuredly NOT- I was giving and available, but life was complicated.

And that may in fact be the point- I was not, I am not, withholding. I eat when I'm hungry, don't you? I work hard to fill my plate, to fill your plate. I'm not hungry 24/7, and that's OK. I know I will be hungry- and if I work hard now to fill this plate, it will be full when I am hungry...

Hubs has got something entirely different going on here. He *needs* to be starved and hungry and then satiated... he needs the tension.

In fact, asking me to produce his mother's theater in a wifely manner, on top of what I was already holding together (my life was *much* more demanding and complicated than hers, no lie- I had a bona fide demanding full time plus career) was, honestly, not only unrealistic but cruel. I literally did not have the time or energy or inclination to be so abjectly self absorbed.

...so Hub's mama issues weren't quite resolved. Understandable. She was and continues to be a piece of work.

Notice this:
I'm not really talking about the other woman at all-

I'm talking about a glitch in my husband's matrix.

It's not that woman- she could have literally been *anyone* - it's him

That being said, it's never completely clean and easy. Of course she had *that special something* that engaged him and kept him hooked. Other women made their bids that night as well, and nothing 'took,' until she showed up. I get it.

I've known my husband since we were in college. I don't 'know' his previous girlfriends and superficial physical involvements but I've seen a few of them in person, and I've seen pictures of them and others. He has a 'type.' Actually, he has a couple of 'types.' And honestly, so do I. I strongly suspect that we all do. It's a product of early imprinting- kind of like a psychological/emotional DNA map.

I'm gonna bet good money that if your SO is with you, you are that type as well.

I absolutely *know* that I am... I see the similarities, the physical similarities, and even in some cases (once removed, I do not/did not know these women/girls, I am extrapolating from what I've gleaned/been told) I know the psychological/emotional/personal/circumstantial similarities as well.

So yes, 'type' plays into it, but given that you are in your relationship, that's a pretty good litmus test positive that you've already matched basic type.

And so did, evidently, this auxiliary, superfluous, WTF WAS THAT? AP.

Basically, I kinda equate that whole scene with a disordered spouse hitting a drive through chasing an ill defined urge ("Am I hungry? Do I want coffee? Am I sad? Upset? Angry? Hung over? Confused? Will a sausage biscuit make me feel better?") and ordering off of the available menu.

It's not superlative in any way.
It's what's there.
And your spouse isn't going to order up chateaubriand, because it's not on the menu in the first place, and because he/she has no idea what chateaubriand is in the second place, or he/she does know what chateaubriand is in the third place and he/she doesn't like it, or doesn't want it.

He/she is gonna order off of that fucking lame predictable boring assed drive through menu, because that's what's there. It's, easy. That's what's available and shoved in his/her face. How many times have we all heard APs described as mostly easy, and available?

Your SO isn't going to order tacos if he/she doesn't enjoy tacos. If he/she is a burger person, then burgers it is. But that in no way implies a gourmet burger, much less the best burger he/she has ever eaten. It's, a burger. Just a burger. And in the process of trying to figure out what in the hell is wrong with them,

Beyond a basic 'type,' (human, not amoeba) it really doesn't matter. The AP is disposable, not too much different than paying a prostitute to go away afterwards. I'd sooner be angry at a door knob than to waste that energy on 'the other woman.'

The point is- do you understand the glitch in your SO's matrix? Can you live with it? Can your SO resolve it, such that the two of you can live together?

It's *not* the AP, beyond some very, very basic early imprinting preferences, which I am absolutely sure you satisfy, or we wouldn't even be here talking to each other.

Suffering over the AP is misdirected, wasted energy.

It's a glitch in your SO's matrix.

Dragonfly123 posted 10/27/2020 03:19 AM

Marriage, for many of us, we had unpleasant interactions via text or phone with the AP. The AP begged our WS to walk out on our children, our families, us. Once the affair was out in the open the AP openly tried to wreck our marriages with constant calls, texts, emails to our WS. They (along with our WS) brought it into our homes, our safe places, they harmed our children knowing exactly what they were doing. Many of them would have known enough about us to know that we were losing weight, suffering with our mental health, struggling. THEY MADE IT PERSONAL. Your WHs infidelity was with someone transient, anonymous. For many of us it was far from that.

ETA I find it interesting that general consensus is that the WS is an abuser (intentionally/unintentionally) but the AP is just the weapon, not a sentient being who also knowingly partakes in that abuse of another. Just my thoughts on it.

I have to walk around my town every day, terrified I will bump into the woman, who knowingly tried to wreck my life and that of my children. I shake, i become tearful. I often start to hyperventilate going into supermarkets. This is my truth.

It’s not mutually exclusive to obsess over/hate the AP and want to know what on earth drove our WHs to do this. To be angry with them, to blame our WH can sit hand in hand with loathing and blaming the AP.

Brew it’s entirely normal. I know my WHs AP does exercise classes and it took all my strength not to go and seek the class out just so I could really KNOW what she looks like. She knows exactly what I look like, she’d know me if she walked past, I feel at a disadvantage. When your spouse has an affair there is a terrible shift in dynamics between you and an unknown entity. They know who you are, they know your children, they could have looked at your social media accounts etc etc and for many the betrayed doesn’t know them at all. And there lies the rub. I think us wanting to put those pieces in place is to readdress that, it’s a ‘control’ ‘readdressing’ power thing. For want of better phrases.

[This message edited by Dragonfly123 at 3:48 AM, October 27th (Tuesday)]

marriageredux959 posted 10/27/2020 04:01 AM

Marriage, for many of us, we had unpleasant interactions via text or phone with the AP. The AP begged our WS to leave their children, their families, us. Once the affair was out in the open the AP openly tried to wreck our marriages with constant calls, texts, emails to our WS. They (along with our WS) brought it into our homes, our safe places, they harmed our children knowing exactly what they were doing. THEY MADE IT PERSONAL. Your WHs infidelity was with someone transient, anonymous. For many of us it was far from that.

Oh, I get it. Trust me. My husband describes his mother as 'sphinx like.' She describes herself as 'standoffish.'

Anonymous is relative.

What I'm trying to say is, no matter how much your 'in your face, personally involved' AP was a factor- he/she *isn't.*

He/she is a thumbtack. A staple. A paperclip. A comma. If he/she was a period at the end of a sentence, you'd already be divorced.

Just like if my mother in law (and, honestly, my father in law as well) was all that, I'd already be divorced. Like my husband's siblings already are- multiple times each. And approaching later life, alone.

But, honestly, anyone encroaching on your marriage is not your problem.

He/she is a damaged human being who is groveling for some sort of validation in the lowest common denominator- and perhaps, in the case of *my* AP, actually trying to make rent there. =( (I honestly wish her the best.)

Common to our situations:

A person who is significant in your life, in whom you've significantly invested, squandered your trust- in traffic. With a stranger. In traffic.

I once *I'm not shitting you here one ounce* had a drunk in traffic who was weaving and bobbing on the way to a job in my neighborhood, follow me to my house and bang the hell on my door, repeatedly- because why? Because I *dared* to pass him on the road on the way into the neighborhood, in front of his coworkers, because I was done with his drunk weaving and bobbing.

*This was in a solid, upscale suburban milk toast neighborhood.*

My point is:

I get it that the AP is disturbing in and of his or her own self. The hell, I get that. Hard core.

If the AP was/is the love of your SO's life, we wouldn't even be talking to each other on the reconciliation forum of this board.

What the AP means to your SO, and whatever the AP did to YOU, are two separate issues.

IMHO, and I get this, I'm not the arbiter of these things, obviously- but what the AP did to *you* in a desperate bid (honestly pathetic, and I mean that generously) in an attempt to be relevant, is literally no more than a flipped finger in traffic.

It, I'm sure, was/is salt in a wound- but the wound is in your marriage, and it was inflicted by your spouse. The AP is irrelevant. He/she is a part of your spouse's fucked up driving. He/she is, honestly, your spouse's hit and run, acting out, without an attorney on his/her side. (Or, even, with an attorney, in more extreme cases.)

Your spouse has a glitch in his/her matrix. *That* is your problem.

A relative stranger- or at least, 'not a friend' insulted you. Good riddance. Dump at the next traffic light- and/or call the cops.

The moment you detect that your spouse is a relative stranger or at least 'not a friend,' they need to be dumped at the next traffic light as well.

The point is, don't waste time or energy on the stage props.

Brew3x posted 10/27/2020 07:59 AM

It's *not* the AP, beyond some very, very basic early imprinting preferences, which I am absolutely sure you satisfy, or we wouldn't even be here talking to each other.

Suffering over the AP is misdirected, wasted energy.

I get what you’re saying to some point but my W’s AP came at her hard very aggressive, I know that’s no excuse for her behavior but that makes him at fault too.
Beyond your point though this post was never really about the AP it was about the AP I built in my mind. I don’t know the AP, I know he was a trainer, his name was Danny, where he lived/lives, is divorced with a kid, has a drinking problem and trouble with the law. I saw a few pictures of him online but in each one he looked different. So my mind built an idea of what he was like his personality, build, attitude physical characteristics etc... Anyway so for me it’s not the AP it’s the persona I built up when I see these guys and get angry or sad I know it’s Not him just the idea of him.

Actually the reverse of this has been happening to me lately. I work at a hotel so I see a lot of people coming and going and when I see a couple that looks happy I ask myself silly questions like are they happy? Would she cheat on him? Is she cheating? This also makes me upset. Idk anyway.

Evertrying posted 10/27/2020 10:29 AM

I despise his name and cringe whenever I hear it. Thankfully not many people I know or work with have his name.

I do the same. His AP's name is very unusual. In fact, I know no one other than her to have this name. I used to mis-pronouce it at first because I don't know anyone else with the same name.

I just started to call her Sasquatch (she is VERY tall) and much bigger than I am. Not fat at all, just bigger. She is actually taller than my husband. It wasn't a derogatory name, it was just that she was very tall!

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