SurvivingInfidelity.com^®

Good morning. Before I start, I wanted to say thank you again to everyone who posted over the weekend. I did check in to read your posts numerous times over the weekend and they were very, very helpful in keeping me grounded, providing excellent insights, points to ponder, and guidance, which really helped me frame a number of our conversations over the weekend. So thank you. I will respond to your posts. I’m going to tell what happened this weekend first and then hit your posts next. This will likely be long – so apologies if that breaks forum etiquette or something. But I founds my prior posts very helpful to me; a) I found them somewhat therapeutic. I hated writing them, and they took forever to do because at times I literally couldn’t go on, but I felt better afterward. b) They helped me organize my thoughts and place different pieces into separate buckets which I can tackle one at a time. Helpful. c) In response, I received a ton of amazing advice and support, for which I am very grateful. So here goes again.

The weekend was hell. I don’t know how else to describe it. Dazed and confused? Check. Punched in the solar plexus in rapid succession? Check. Thrown in to the dryer and put on spin cycle? Check. Cried until I was literally dehydrated? Check. As I said, hell. Good news? I’m still standing. There were a lot of positives that came out of this weekend. A number of negatives, too. And a few surprises (not so surprising?). Processing all of this is very difficult. Doesn’t mean I’m not doing it. I am. And frankly, I’m good at it. But it’s like giving yourself stitches or cauterizing your own wound. I have a hard time not breaking down and quitting in the process. And I freakin’ hate quitting. And this, which I am sure I will delve further into during counseling, is a big issue for me regarding the future. How can I quit on my family? I’m not talking about her. It’s taken me a bit, but right now I’m in the mind from that me leaving, if that’s what I choose to do, is a consequence of her actions and not just cutting and running at the first sign of trouble. I do vacillate between the two, btw, but my kids are at the forefront of my mind when I think about this. But, this is for another day. No decisions on this yet. Anyway, onward.

So, before heading home from work on Friday, I read a number of articles in the Healing Library, including the 180. I knew what I wanted to get out of this weekend. Most of it worked. A bunch of it did not. Well, I got home from work, walked into the house, put my bag down in the foyer (yes, I still call it a foyer) and found my wife sitting on the sofa in the living room. A word for a second about my wife. She’s classically beautiful. Think a young Helena Bonham Carter. She’s 42. Looks like she’s 35. No one can believe she has a married daughter. Ladies – you want to really hate my wife? Here you go. 110 pounds. Size 2 or 4 depending on the make. After 5 kids. And not a vegan or something either. Eats like a horse. Chocolate, ice cream, pizza, steals the kid’s snacks, you name it. You know when people are watching their weight, and they see a piece of cake, they say “I really shouldn’t…” before taking a slice? Those words have never left her mouth (okay, in hindsight had she said them about the POS…). She’d eat dinner with the kids, then eat with me after I got home and spent time with the kids, and then a “snack” at around 10:30 – 11:00. Once, she complained that a skirt of hers was a little tight and she’d be watching what she eats. A week later we were on the sofa watching Downton Abbey and she went to get a snack. Came back with a Snickers. I, politely I might add, said “Honey, I thought you wanted to be careful about what you ate.” Her reply? In total seriousness she said, “I am. That’s why I’m only eating one.” As I said, feel free to hate her even more.

Sorry. Tangent. Anyway, why do I mention this? Because she looked anything but beautiful when I came home. She was a shell of her former self. She looked gaunt, her face was splotchy, eyes were bloodshot, hair a mess. I don't think she put on makeup all week. Tissues were all over the place. She looked at me with the most hollow look I’ve seen. Big puppy dog eyes. Pleading. And what did I do? I watched her for what seemed like forever but was probably only a few seconds, and then turned and walked into the kitchen without saying a word. I cannot tell you how difficult that was for me. But, cold bastard, I was. And you know what? I was also pissed off. I didn’t have the luxury to sit on the sofa all day to cry. I had to play pretend and bottle everything up at work. And how dare she cry? Of course I heard a fresh round of crying from her as a result.

Ordered chinese. Ate in silence. Gave us something to do. Then we talked. I asked her what she wanted. She said that I don’t leave her. I said it’s too early to come to any decisions about that. She nodded when I said that. So, I said, from your POV, does that mean you want to remain married? Doesn’t mean I do. Just want to know where you stand. I got a yes. I asked for her phone. 3 calls from POS. 1 answered – just 12 seconds. The other two unanswered. No texts. So I asked her about the 21 minute call on Tuesday. And the 14 calls from him since. I asked how she could still talk to the same person who destroyed our marriage. I asked what they talked about on Tuesday. She said she called him in a panic to tell him and how they can’t see each other anymore, but he wasn’t accepting of that. And so she tried convincing him and saying she doesn’t want to ruin her marriage any further than she had already. He was staying they could see each other. Yes – I know. Bullshit. So, I sucked it up and said to her very gently that in order for us to even think about moving forward, I need her to be total open and honest with me. I said there’s nothing she can say that’ll make it worse. It’s already worse. (Not true, by the way – not by a long shot). I told her don’t spare my feelings. Don’t protect me. Don’t try to not hurt me. It’s way too late for that. I need honesty. I need the truth, no matter how painful it is. I used the band-aid analogy. If she can’t do that, then there’s no point to anything else. She nodded. She started off with “I don’t love him.” I looked at her. I asked her if she has habit of f***ing guys she doesn’t love. She took the punch. She said she wouldn’t call it love. Not a deep love. It wasn’t a soulmate thing. She swears up and down. She called it infatuation. Schoolgirl. Romantic idealism. Prince Charming. Taking her away from her overly stressed life. Plus she resented me. Not being involved as much as I should. Other things that bothered her. She complained about me and he capitalized on that. She then sucked all that up and it reinforced her complaints. And he lavished attention on her. Told her she was beautiful. I said I do that all the time. Her response was that I have to. Like buying gifts on valentine’s day. It’s in the job description. But I don’t really mean it. He spent time with her. She said he instigated the physical part. Touches, hugs, kisses on the cheek, then light kisses on the lips. Touching her arm, thighs. She soaked it all up. He’s not bad looking, decent shape. Is wealthy. They went to high-end restaraunts. She knew she shouldn’t. Knew it was wrong. But she pushed that to the side and lived in the moment. Didn’t think about anything. Didn’t think about me. Didn’t think about the kids. Just what she was feeling. I asked her if she ever told him that she loves him. She started crying more profusely. I said please. I need you to be honest. She nodded. Then she said she didn’t mean it. She didn’t. It was just something you say. I asked her if when she said it to me, was it something you “just say.” I asked when it started. She said 1 month after the wedding. I said that’s not true. She said it did. I said maybe that was the first time you slept with the POS but that’s not when it started. January. It started in January. At least when he first started hitting on her. Emotionally, was more like March. So I asked her. Does that mean, when we were standing before God, our family and friends, marrying off our daughter, who was vowing to be faithful to our son-in-law, she was thinking she was in love with another man? She broke down and I just sat there.

She admitted her phone call was one of panic and she did tell him she loved him, but that she truly loved me and wanted to stay married and said goodbye. She admitted she said she’d miss him and that she’ll always remember him. But that it was over. I don't know how I looked when she said. I do know that I was crying. She started bawling. She said she couldn’t do this to me anymore. I said she already did it. This is just the consequence. So, he told her he loved her and wanted her to leave me. She said no. That was the 21 minute call. And the other 14, were mini versions of the same. Until Thursday when she said that if he ever felt anything for her that she’d respect her wishes and stop calling. That’s why on Friday, when he called, she answered and she says she said that he obviously never really cared about her and please don’t ever call again. She didn’t answer the other two calls on Friday.

Then I laid out No Contact. I said if she wants to even think about moving forward this is the way it has to be. We blocked his phone number. I told her I’m changing her phone number, which I did on Saturday. She wrote an email to him, which I read and edited, essentially telling him she was committed to salvaging her marriage, that what they did was wrong, and never to contact her again and that if he continues to do so that I would file harassment charges against him. She sent it and then we blocked his email address. I told her if she breaks No Contact, she should even begin to think we have a future together. I asked if he has our home number. She said no. But of course he can look it up. I explained that No Contact means just that. Not even to say stop calling. And that id he tries, she needs to tell me each time. I don't think she thought it all the way through - what No Contact means, but I did see the proverbial light bulb go off. I am hopeful. I also told her that she must call the organization where they both volunteered and a) she had to quit and, b) she had to tell them why. She was horrified, but nodded and said yes. I am working from home today and she did that this morning with me. I also told her no more volunteering at the other two places – she agreed to that and called both places this morning. She said over and over that she loves me. She doesn’t know what to do to make it up to me. She scared to death that I’ll leave her. She asked me if I hate her. I didn’t answer.

She begged me to come back to the bedroom. I didn't say "not yet." I said no. That was Friday night.

My brother and his wife came over Saturday morning. They dropped the kids by his in-laws. Told me to get dressed and that we’re going for a run. We didn’t really talk much. Just ran. It felt really good. It was good to work up a sweat. Get out. Feel the wind. Went for about an hour. The last quarter we walked and talked. He’s been following this thread. We talked about Friday night and my plans for the rest of the weekend. He said he has an attorney lined up for me if I want – just for a consultation at this stage. We got back and my sister-in-law was cooking breakfast. She came over to clean the house up – she figured we weren’t really keeping things in order this past week. She was right. How awesome is that? My wife was in the den. My SIL said that they didn’t talk other than a good morning. Seems my wife couldn’t look at my SIL, so she hid in the den. Ate breakfast for the second day in a row. It felt good. My wife didn’t join us, so my SIL brought it to her in the den. While we were eating my wife’s sister showed up. She also came to help out around the house and to talk to my wife. She and my brother’s wife did the laundry and linens. My brother and I showered and then played Madden on the PS4. It was nice to be normal for a morning. To laugh. To trash talk. To forget, for a small moment at least.

My brother and SIL left around noon. My wife’s sister wanted to leave and asked me for a ride home (my BIL dropped her off). So I gave her one and it seems she asked her husband to drop her off so I’d have to give her a ride so we can talk alone. First thing I asked was if she knew. She swore she didn’t. I believe her. She said her sister is a stupid, stupid, b***h. Said she told her so. Then she told me her conversations over the week and how they evolved. First, my wife told her basically what she told me the night before. Said how infatuated she was with him, said how she felt about me during the affair. I was too controlling in general. Whatever. Typical stuff. He appreciated her. Doted on her. Made her feel like a queen. Said he loved her over and over. Then my SIL, God bless her, said she slapped her. Then she read my wife the riot act. What kind of idiot is she? Of course he said that. She was giving it up to him for a lunch and a museum trip. He’d say anything. My wife argued that it wasn’t like that. My SIL laughed at her and said it was exactly like that but she was too stupid to see it. My wife said my SIL didn’t understand. They argued. My SIL said she better get her head screwed on straight or our marriage was surely done. My wife was in panic mode about me, the marriage, the kids, what people will say, what will happen to her, etc. Me. Me. Me. It was all about her. She was sorry, but more about her life than anything else. Said it went back and forth like that all week. Until Thursday. She came over to house in the morning and said my wife was like a different person. She was so remorseful. She couldn’t believe what she had done. What she did to me. To us. My SIL asked her what changed and she said that Wednesday night I was on the sofa crying. Not sobbing, just tears falling. I was lost in myself. I didn’t know she was watching me. She said I looked like I was in such pain. And that she recognized the look I had. It was the same look I had when my father died. And that’s when it hit her. That she caused me as much pain as me losing my dad at 22. Except with my dad, we could say it was his health, God’s will, etc. Here she chose to do this to me. She threw up. I didn’t know that, but apparently she made it to the bathroom in time. My SIL asked her what she wanted and she said me. Only me. But how could I want her? She was a mess. In the end, my SIL wanted to let me know that the full impact of everything has finally hit home. She doesn’t think my wife fully understands everything and hates herself right now, but that she told my SIL that she’ll do whatever it takes to make things as right as can be. Even if that means losing me in the process. She asked what I was going to do. I said I honestly didn’t know. I’m just trying to get answers at this point. I thanked her and said what I need more than anything is honestly, no matter how painful. And No Contact. Everything else is dependent on those two things. I was in tears. We hugged. I dropped her off and headed home.

We talked about sex. She didn’t want to. I said we need to. She said wasn’t it enough to know they did it and leave it at that? I said no. Look, I’ve had tough conversations before. I’ve given bad performance reviews and fired people. Had to tell them they’re out of a job. Always tried to be gentle about it. Sometimes it wasn’t my decision – corporate downsizing. Other times it was due to poor performance. Always gave warnings, motivation to improve, classes, assistance, but sometimes you have to make the tough call, cause nothing else worked and you have to move on. Try telling a guy, who’s the sole breadwinner, that he doesn’t have a job anymore. Really hard. I’ve had people cry on me as result. Still, nothing prepared me for this talk. I asked her if they had unprotected sex. She just stared at me. I asked again. She started shaking her head. I asked does that mean he wore a condom? She just kept crying and shaking her head no. I told her I need to know and that I made an appointment for Tuesday at the Health & Wellness center at work to get tested for STD’s and HIV, and that if she needed to get tested as well. She totally lost it at that. I mean full on, heaving sobs. At one point she couldn’t breathe. I was gripping the arms of the chair so hard so I wouldn’t get up and go to her. When she was somewhat under control I told her that I assume he didn’t wear a condom, so she must make an appointment to get tested. End of discussion. She nodded. Said she’d do it this week. I then I did something I probably shouldn’t have. I asked details. I didn’t want details. But I couldn’t help myself. How often? At first once a week. She felt so guilty. It got easier. Easier to betray me? Yes. Then she got more emotionally into it. Got lost in it. Then 2-3 times a week. Roughly 25 – 30 times in total. She said it wasn’t about the sex. It was the romance. The whole package. She was in fantasy land with him. I asked her what she was thinking holding hands in the Upper West Side? She said she didn’t even realize she was doing that. She was just so comfortable and into the relationship. Into him. Yes, they had unprotected sex. She was more aggressive than with me. In the middle of the affair, she initiated with him a number of times. She suggested going back to his place. I cannot describe the searing pain I was in while she was talking. She kept saying she didn’t want to hurt me anymore. She was crying throughout. Said that I was torturing myself. Maybe, but I needed answers. I remembered when we bought our house – we christened our dining room table (Bro – don’t worry – we always serve with a tablecloth!). She said it was like that. They did everything together. She didn’t do anything different than with me, just more of it. More times at once. More adventurous. More passionate. More fun. More. I heard the word “more” over and over. You can’t see me right now, but this is a broken man talking. It’s taking me forever to write this. I’m forcing myself to, cause I think if I don’t let it out I’ll go nuts, but I’m dying inside. I just want to crawl into a hole and close my eyes and not see them together. Not see her. I can hear her in my head with him and it’s killing me. I don’t know how to make it stop and I just want it to stop.

We breaked and went our separate ways. It seemed like hours passed, but I don’t know what time it was and I was sitting in the den. I must’ve been spacing out. Replaying our conversation. Over and over. Imagining. I couldn’t turn it off. I know I was crying. I didn’t hear her come in to the room. I didn’t feel her hand on my shoulder at first. Then I did. I freaked. I admit it. I literally jumped off the chair and I yelled at her that she should never, ever, f***ing touch me again. She ran. She ran upstairs to the bedroom. I just collapsed and cried like I never cried before. This was worse then my dad dying. He didn’t choose this – it was an asthma attack and the nebulizer failed on him. She chose do this to me. How? I know I’ve asked why. But why isn’t my biggest question. It’s how. How could someone do this to a person they say the love? I’m an integrity guy. A straight arrow. Too straight. I’m book smart. My wife is street smart. We complement each other, but I can’t play games. I’m not devious. I can strategize, come up with solutions, tilt a situation to my favor, but within the rules. I have a clear sense of right and wrong. Believe integrity is what you do when no one else is looking. I cannot wrap my head around this. I don’t understand how she could do this. I’m not stupid. I know there are liars and cheaters in the world. People do bad things all the time. But she was supposed to be one of the good guys. She WAS one of the good guys. And it’s one thing to do a bad thing to a stranger or something. But to the person you’re closest to in your life besides your kids (she has an on-off again relationship with her parents)? How can you sleep at night? How can you look at yourself in the mirror? How can you live with yourself?

We saw each other later. She asked me if I hate her. I didn’t answer. She said she hated herself. I just shrugged. She asked me if I was going to divorce her. I said maybe. I told her my brother gave me a rec for an attorney so I could assess my options and get a lay of the land. She just nodded. She said she loved me. She was so, so sorry. I then told her I have homework for her. I gave her a printed copy of Linda MacDonald’s book, Helping Your Spouse Heal (thanks to all who recommended it) that I had brought home with me. She read it Saturday night. I told her I’ll be getting more books and that I want her to read them. She said she wants to read them too.

I’ll post about Sunday in a bit.

My body was sore Sunday morning from running the day before, but I did it again. It felt good. Really good. Cam back and showered. My wife was still in the bedroom. I spent the morning on the computer and her phone, pouring over her texts and emails. She hadn’t deleted anything. My wife is street smart, like I said, but she’s also somewhat naïve. Don’t get me wrong. She’s very smart, but she believes that everyone is inherently good and that everyone had good intentions. I only believe that about her. Or I did. To me, there is evil. Bad people who do bad things. One of the hardest things for me is reconciling that concept with my wife. Does this make her bad? Evil? Or is she inherently a good person who did a horrible thing? I don’t have a good answer just yet and it kills me that I don’t. Anyway, she is naïve though and she never deleted anything. She lied and cheated and hid and sneaked, but she didn’t delete anything. So it was all there for me. The emails and texts. The “I can’t wait to see you’s” and the “love you’s,” the “miss you’s,” the “yesterday was special,” “can’t wait until Thursday” and on and on. There were no sexually explicit emails or texts, thank God. I went back and there were emails from her in March and April that were a combination of minor gripes about me, praising him, and flirting. One liners. Good comebacks, etc. I didn’t read them all. I did forward them all to my email and phone.

She came down somewhere in the middle, saw was I was doing, and then left the room. We didn’t talk much that morning. She made a late lunch. I made my own. Petty of me, I know, but I couldn’t help myself.

And then came the kicker. I was on the computer and decided to do a Google search on POS. By the way, I know everyone here uses the term AP. I much prefer POS, okay? Anyway, one of you put this thought into my head so I followed up on it. Found him and his apartment address on the Upper West Side. Did a White Pages search. Found him there too. Did a search for him in New Jersey. Nothing. Connecticut? Bingo. Has a house. You know how White Pages has that section of people they may know? Woman’s name. Okay, he’s divorced. Makes sense. But I had a hunch, so I called my wife over and gave her one of the handsets to listen in and I called the house (yay me!). Woman answered. I asked if this was Mrs. X. She said yes! I asked if she was married to POS. She got suspicious and asked who I was and what this was about. Well, I hemmed and hawed, and then she said, “Don’t tell me. Who’s the lying sack of s**t f***ing now?” I almost dropped the phone. So…I told her. I told her, with my wife standing next to me listening in that my wife had an affair with POS and that I just found out about on Monday. And that he had said he was divorced. Now, I’ve heard swearing in my time. We all have. But this lady would make sailors blush. Turns out that they’re married but separated. She’s in the house in Connecticut (wealthy neighborhood – think New Canaan if you’re from the Northeast), he’s at their apartment he used for work during the week in Manhattan. Are supposed to be reconciling. Doing marriage counseling, if you can f***ing believe that! Has two boys. One a teenager. One in college. This was the third time he’s cheated that she knows about. I apologized and said I was sorry to be there bearer of such news. I wish I didn’t have to make this call. She was gracious, and obviously in pain. She apologized for her husband and said she was sorry that I had to deal with the fallout from the prick. Her words. My wife had a look of horror on her face the entire time and the tears were just flowing out of her. She gestured that she wanted to say something, so I nodded to her. She told his wife that she was so sorry and that she didn’t know he was married. You know what she answered back? “But you were, you f***ing whore.” My wife just started screaming, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Again and again. I apologized again to Mrs. X, but said for her sake and her boy’s sake, it was important to know what he was doing. She understood. I felt really bad for her. Talk about empathy. I got off the line. My wife was rocking back and forth, hugging her knees, saying she was sorry over and over again. Like a mantra. I’m not proud of myself for this, but I asked her if it was worth it? Was throwing her life away and destroying our marriage, our life, our future, my respect, the kids respect, her self respect, worth it for a f***ing scumbag POS who would f***k a married woman while going to marriage counseling with his wife! She didn’t answer me, just kept crying, and rocking, and saying I’m sorry. Again, I’m not proud, but I took great pleasure in her pain. And then I told her that I hope it was worth it because when she’s alone and lost everything and no one respects her, she at least would be able to have her memories of f***ing Prince Charming to keep her warm at night. I then walked away. I know. Not my best moment. But I had so much rage in me. At him. At her. At my life. I was just so angry. I scared me. I wanted to kill him. But he wasn’t there. She was. And I wanted to strangle her. God help me, I wanted to pound her into sand. So I left the house. I didn’t drive. Thank God. I just walked. And walked. For I don’t know how long.

Later last night I was sitting in the den. The mind movies were going. I couldn’t stop them. I just kept thinking about everything. About them. About my life. I was so scared. Everything I worked for. In the toilet. She came into the room. I didn’t acknowledge her. She didn’t touch me this time. She just grabbed me and hugged me. I tried to get up but she wouldn’t let me. I tried to move her arms. She just held on. She kept saying I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I did this. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I said, “I hate you.” She said, “I know. I hate me too.” I said I don’t care. She said, “I know. I’m so sorry. I love you. I love you. I love you. I’m sorry” Alternating between the two. I said Bullshit. She just kept saying it. I was crying. She was crying. We sat there like that for a very long time.

So that’s where we are today. I’m still in the guest room. I’m okay with that. I have the STD test tomorrow and tomorrow night I am meeting with the attorney my brother recommended. He represented his SIL and my brother said he was very good. I trust him. I am seriously considering the VAR and polygraph. I hear you all about that piece of it and while I don’t like it, I’ll do it if I think it will help. I have absolutely no clue what I’m going to do regarding my marriage. I don’t want to at this point. I’m just trying to survive. I just don’t know if I can get over this regardless of how I feel about her or her me. Maybe it’s still too raw. I don’t know. Whatever. I have time for that. I did discuss counseling with her. Not together. Individually. She agreed. I’m researching therapists. I suggested she ask her sister for advice on that front. This week will be telling. She’s going for her STD test on Wednesday. I also warned her that breaking No Contact would utterly destroy us. She understood and actually had a few choice words about POS that makes me think (or hope?) that she’ll stick to it. We’ll see.