My sincere thanks for the support I have received from this community.
It has been quite a day. I have received enormous help from a good friend, whom I also told about what I was going through and so was ready when I gave him the bad news. I was on automatic pilot at work, but then was able to take the rest of the afternoon off.
This afternoon, my friend drove to the AP wife’s house (OBS? Sorry for my slow grasp of the acronyms here), rang the doorbell, and personally handed her the photos of my fiancée and her AP. They are time-stamped and explicit – in that they leave no doubt about what was happening.
The worst one might appear to be the one from the hotel – where they are kissing at dinner and then, the next morning, where they are kissing goodbye in the parking lot. By the way: what does it say that they are both so brazen?! It’s not like they were both in some other city. But while those are bad, the worst one is the first photo from Friday night, when AP arrived at my place. We live in a duplex, so she had to open the front door to let him in. And the killer … the absolute killer … is the pure joyous excitement in her eyes. It’s … I will never forget it for as long as I live.
About an hour later, today, once my friend had delivered these photos to the OBS, he then went to my place, where he handed my fiancée a package I had prepared for her. In it were of course the photos, as well as a simple note from me to her. I told her that my future goodwill towards her (not in person; just in my mind) would depend on the degree to which she is going to come clean about the full truth. I told her that we are finished and that—forget about marriage, of course—I never wish to see her again. I have given her until Thursday afternoon to move out of our place, which I pay for entirely; and I have asked her to leave her engagement ring in a clearly visible place.
So, about … not even … 5 minutes before my friend dropped off the package with my fiancée, I missed two calls from her. She then sent several nervous texts, asking where I was and why I wasn’t picking up and why I wasn’t at work. I have to guess that her AP had phoned her in a panic; maybe they thought it was someone getting at him and that she would 'get away with it'.
Then, after she received my package, about half an hour passed before more missed calls, more texts asking me to call her, then one text saying, “It’s not what it looks like.” Unbelievable. And, just before I started typing this, I received two very emotional voicemails from her: the first, I barely could make out what she was saying as she screamed and cried; the second, she is saying she isn’t going to try to pretend those photos aren’t what they are, but that it was the first and only time they have ever done anything and that he sort of took advantage of her when they got too drunk on Friday and then one thing lead to another and then and then and then …
I then told a lie—I never bluff like this—but texted only one thing back: “I saw you two holding hands under the table at our dinner party in September. The same private detective has been compiling evidence for months now. I only asked for the photos from this weekend because I wanted it to be undisputable. We are done. But, if you want all of this to end as civilly as possible, you will do the honourable thing and a) stop lying, b) stop taking me for an utter fool and c) tell the whole truth. I actually don’t care what you have to say, anyway, but if you don’t come clean to me, and therefore yourself, about why you did this, I guarantee you will continue to repeat this cancerous cycle for the rest of your life.” I have received no reply of any sort.
Sorry: I appreciate the degree to which people here advise me for a more ‘nuclear’ option—sharing this with her family, etc—but it isn’t me. I know myself very well. This is, and will for a very long time be, profoundly traumatic for me. For me to survive, I have to be true to who I am. While I love the stories of the degree to which people avenge the infidelity they have suffered, it isn’t in my DNA to plan and execute such things.
My strength will come from: not even having an in-person conversation with her about this; ending our engagement permanently; not, for a second, entertaining the possibility of R; and asking her to leave our former space.
Finally – I have to end on a petty note, since I have been trying to remain as composed and dignified as possible in writing this. While the AP is younger than me—he’s about halfway between her age and mine—he is less intelligent than me, less emotionally sensitive than me (something I always thought she valued) and, the real kicker: objectively I am much, much better looking than him. I know how superficial and vain that sounds. But it is true. I have often been compared as a look-alike to a well known British movie star that is in a lot of romantic comedies; this guy, while more muscular than me, looks like a bulldog. I just .. don’t .. get it.
He and his wife also have two young kids, so there’s that too. Sorry – I know a lot of you have asked various questions that I haven’t properly answered this last week, but I feel like I have been lurching from one nightmare into the next. At least I now have the ‘peace of mind’ that I am not crazy.
I am sorry if I disappear again from here for several days. I will try to update if I have the energy. Am booked in with my therapist for next Tuesday (earliest she could see me) and am staying at my friend’s. He is single so it is good that I am not inconveniencing someone’s family. Sorry also for how all over the map this is. I suppose it mirrors my mind.