Back in the Game

So how did love come back into the picture? Not so long ago my friends started pushing me to get back out there. I was hearing statements left and right telling me to get back in the game, start dating, go get laid. Me, I’m not that type of girl really. I’ve never liked being single, and I never enjoyed dating. Of-course I loved the butterfly feeling, the highs when things went right in my dating life; but I dreaded the lows when those relationships didn’t quite work out. So at the age of 21 I was already settling down, and happy to have found my “one”. And although I was very young, being in a committed relationship just felt right.

But after having been cheated on, something in me wanted, needed to know what I was worth. I needed to stop beating myself up and blaming ME for not being good enough, pretty, enough, sexy enough, or anything enough to keep my man interested. Could it be that it wasn’t me but rather that my husband was just a stupid prick who couldn’t see a good thing when he had it?

So finally after a few weeks of convincing, I got off my recently regular couch position and went out with some girl friends to a party. Initially I felt like Alice after she ate the magic cake; I had grown up while everyone around me stayed little, or in this case young. The music was loud and definitely not what I remembered it to be, the place was huge and felt like a meet market, the crowd was rowdy, and looking around I couldn’t help but wonder how old the guys were anyway. 18? 20?  Would I even be allowed to date them or would that be considered pedophilia?

Every guy that tried to talk to me got the evil eye. A sort of get away from me you pervert, I’m married! But having downed a few drinks in less than 20 minutes, the alcohol was getting to me, and the guys seemed a bit cuter and older all of a sudden. So by the end of the night I was dancing, flirting, and having a ball.

Getting back out there after 10 years off the market was quite the experience. It was fun to feel young and sexy again for one night. That is of-course not how I felt the next morning when the amount of alcohol really hit me. But most of all it was different. Different than sitting at home cuddled up on the couch with my husband. And also different than sitting at home, just as I had done so many times recently, crying and sulking about my miserable and lonely single life.

It was the beginning of a fresh start. I was turning over a new leaf.  I was going to go out there and show the world that I was back in the game,  available and ready to conquer…

Silence

After writing about my monster in-laws, I guess it’s only logical that I write about my husband, my soon-to-be ex. But although many words float in my head, spinning round and round, I cannot seem to write them down. Words cannot describe how I feel.

I keep wondering about the kind of man my husband was, and the monster that he has become. I think about the kind of love he gave me; controlling, and blinding, never enough. It was an abusive love, bruising and harmful, bittersweet. Knowing now that “the one who loves the least controls the relationship” and seeing how he controlled the younger version of me, I have to wonder if maybe it was not love at all.

On my weak days I hate. I hate him for what he has done, and what he continues to do. For the blame and guilt he let me carry on my shoulders. For the affair and the behavior that came afterward. For not having fought for us. For manipulating others to believe that he tried.

I hate myself for the weakling I have become; without him, because of him. I hate that I let him control me and manipulate me. I hate how I let my relationship sabotage my confidence and my pride.  I hate feeling like a failure, ashamed that I was not good enough.

On my strong days I love. I love him for what he was for me and for the 9 years in which he made me happy. I love him for everything that I have learned from him. I love the blissful ignorance which protected me for so long. But above all I love me for the woman I have grown into because of him, without him.

While my thoughts of him still linger, we have long since parted in silence; but tears and pain have not taken away the longing memories and false sense of nostalgia I am left with in the silence of the cold and lonely nights.

The Other Woman

“There is always one woman to save you from another
and as that woman saves you she makes ready to destroy”
(Charles Bukowski)

Where the hell did my husband mange to find a hypocrite whore, from all the women in the world?! A “devote” Mormon, the mistress/slut does not drink coffee or tea as it is not allowed according to the scriptures. But sleeping around and coveting other women’s husbands is probably not a crime in her holy covenant. Disrespectful of her own parents, and unfaithful to both her ex-husbands; still she is a dedicated follower who goes to church almost every Sunday to ask Christ forgiveness for her sins. Hypocritically enough, once she has been forgiven, she continues sinning, as she knows that she will be forgiven again the next time.

I cannot say I know too much about this girl as I have not had the “pleasure” of her company for too long; but while we were still on speaking terms she did offer me some insight into her background. I heard stories of the girl she once was, and how she had gone through all possible stages in her short life in an attempt to find out who she was; from rock to punk, from gothic to the girl next door, from drunkard to teetotal, from innocent to slutty, and from naive, to experienced. A wild child covered in tattoos, she often played the role of the angel in disguise, the victim who needed shelter and protection from the big bad world.

She preyed on men that were weak, or maybe just willing. She used sex to her advantage. I do not know how many lives has she has destroyed or how many broken hearts has she left behind.  But I do know that she cheated on her husbands countless times, usually with their own friends. The first husband her high-school sweetheart ended up going to jail after beating up the 5^th and last man he caught her with. A man she said was gay, and then ran off with, as she stole her husband’s money and credit cards.

Then as she met the next man in her life, once she got bored she moved on to his best friend, who apparently gave her the attention she craved and shelter she needed. This was the man she then married, although he too bored her quite quickly afterwards.

Her next affairs were with older men, married men with families, her employers, and others just random strangers who gave her the attention she seeked. She jumped from bed to bed in an attempt to define her being, to prove the worthiness of her existence. Like jelly, she fit perfectly into the lives of so many different men. Like a chameleon she changed her appearance and her demeanor to fit theirs. Right now she has changed the color of her hair once again according to her next client’s desire. And so she will fit into his life as she kicks his current girlfriend of 2 years to the curb.

As of today she is out of the life of both my husband and his brother. She has left to move in with her next victim. But I am sure she will still haunt me wherever I go. In my mind she will always represent the women who lack morals, and have no mercy, compassion, or remorse, for the casualties they leave behind. Heartless predators who in attempt to find their own happiness, stomp on that of others, and knowingly pursue the husbands, boyfriends, and other “unavailable” men.

Sweet Revenge (Part II)

One of my co-bloggers wrote that “If another woman steals your man, the best revenge is to let her keep him.” While I’m not sure how I feel about this, maybe it is the best revenge. Maybe my husband, his brother and the mistress/slut are on the same level, and therefore deserve each other.

My husband has been looking quite bad lately. Actually I think he looks a bit like a terrorist these days. He’s become super skinny (with no woman to cook for him), he shaved off his beautiful golden hair which I loved so much (most likely to spite me), and he’s grown this long, dark heavy beard (just because he can’t bother to take care of himself and no one else seems to).

Actually I say this, but the fact of the matter is that I haven’t seen him for over a month. I know he comes home sometimes to pick up the mail; but he always does it when I’m not around. I think it has something to do with the guilt. Or at least that’s what I would like to believe.

Last night I heard that it’s over. The brother has dumped the slut and has asked her to leave his house this week. I can’t help but wonder what happened. Has the awful truth finally come out? Did he find out the child is not his? Did he catch her cheating? Has he just had enough of this twisted threesome? And what happens now? Will she keep the baby? And who will take responsibility for it?

I’m not sure how I feel about this all. On the one hand I am a bit upset. Upset because it seems almost a shame that my 10 years have been wasted and are lost, for this one-year, short-lived, and terribly agonizing relationship they had. I want to just scream at both the brothers: Was she worth it? A part of me would even prefer that they would endure this miserable relationship, full of lies and deceit, a bit longer.

But on the other hand I am pleased; pleased that this distorted relationship has crashed in their face, and will be their downfall. That now as the truth comes out, and eyes are beginning to open, this family will be torn apart by their own doing. For so long it has been me who has been falling apart. Finally I can sit back and watch them come undone. I wonder if this is karma beginning to show its face, if this is the taste of sweet revenge?!

Déjà Vu

It was about a year ago when it started. One day out of nowhere my husband invited HER over, an employee from work, who he had recently set up with his brother. She came alone, an innocent visit to chat about how things were going, or rather not going. It was all so very innocent, until she brought up this trip to visit her family in England and how much fun they would all have at the soccer game there.

What? Red flags shot up in my ears. Was this how I was being informed that my husband had already made plans to go to England without having first discussed it with me? I was furious. The sparks in my eyes, and questioning looks, were answered with a casual “oh no, we were just playing around with the idea.”

But it didn’t sound like just an idea to me. It sounded more like the tickets to the match were already bought, and the plans had already been made. Politely I told my husband we would discuss the issue later, not in front of our guest. He made a little fuss… and I could see the way he was looking at her, as if to say: crazy wife – I’ll do what I want in the end in any case.

And that he did. After weeks of arguing about this trip, he went anyway. I could not join as I had no more days off from work (something he knew in advance) and I had not agreed to him going either, but he could not care less.

To me the idea of him joining his brother and his new girlfriend not only on their first trip together, but on a trip intended for her to introduce her new boyfriend to her parents; seemed ridiculous, completely absurd. Actually it was a “tad” inappropriate even. Why would he want to be the third wheel?

Skipping forward one year, I feel a complete sense of Déjà Vu. My husband just went again with his slut and his brother to England to visit her family. Once again, I do not see the point, but by now who am I to interfere? It no longer has anything to do with me.

Still I find it strange and utterly distorted. Has he not learned anything? Why would he want to be the third wheel again? Whose hand does he need to hold as she and his brother tell her religious parents that she is “unexpectedly” pregnant? It doesn’t make sense. What exactly does he need to do there with them, on such an occasion?

It makes me sick to my stomach that no one is capable of seeing how twisted this is? That no one says anything, and that I am the only one who notices how perverted this threesome relationship is. Could it be that the three of them are not sure who the father of the baby is? Could that be the reason for him awkwardly tagging along?

Whatever the reason, it seems to me that “those who cannot learn from history are bound to repeat it”.

Slutty Red Car for Cheating Husbands (Part II)

Holding the keys to my husband’s brand new slutty red car (which I can only assume held memories of wild sex with his mistress in the back seat) I was outraged and furious. My heart was beating so fast I thought I was having a heart attack. I could almost see the steam coming out of my ears.  And at that moment, I could have ripped out his heart. Once again my husband was cheating on me, only this time with a car. I couldn’t take it anymore, the lies, the deception. This was really low! He had pretended he didn’t want another car, because he had already bought one, he bought HERS!!!

Turning to the mechanic, I smiled politely and told him that my husband would drop by later to PAY the bill.  Then I walked over and put the key into the door lock and stepped into OUR new car. Looking around inside the car, it didn’t really have my husband’s feel to it; it looked more like a race car, with black and red leather seats. Nothing like any car he had before. But it already had his stuff in there, his deodorant, his favorite mints, and a sweater I hated because I’m pretty sure he bought it with HER, lying on the back seat.

How stupid could I have been? How did I not see this earlier?
How stupid could HE have been? Did he really think he could hide a car from me?
And how could he choose a car over our relationship?

After sitting in the SLUT car for what seemed like eternity, I decided on my next plan of action. I turned on the engine and drove away. In my mind I had come up with the most devious plan. I was going to hide the car somewhere, so that when my husband would come to pick it up, there would be nothing for him to find. The idea seemed brilliant. After all as a married couple, the car belonged as much to me as it did to him and I too had the right  to drive it, sell it, or even put it on fire!

So that’s what I did….I drove the car into the middle of nowhere, stepped out, and started walking back to my own car.  As I reached my car and drove away to work, I felt alleviated. I had tricked the trickster; beat him at his own game. It was genius.

Well it was genius for the next 20 kilometers, when all of a sudden anxiety and worries flooded me. Once again my heart started pounding, and I could feel the adrenaline causing me to sweat. Could I do this? Was it allowed? Was it even legal? Could I be charged with theft or destruction of property?

So with these new thoughts and fears in my mind, I turned back around and drove all the way back, picked up the car and returned it to the car garage, where it had initially stood. But I did not return the keys to the mechanic I took them with me and headed home to confront my CHEATING, LYING, DECEITFUL HUSBAND!

At home, my husband was peacefully asleep (probably having dreams of his wild sex escapades with his slut). Quietly, I walked into the bedroom and woke him up.

Holding up the keys of OUR new Slutty Red Car in my hand, as soon as his eyes were open I said: “I know about the car. So I hope you enjoy it. You can have it; you can have the other car, and your motorbike. You can have all 3 vehicles to yourself, I’m leaving!”

That was it; I had nothing more to say. No more energy in me. Not to fight or yell, complain or beg, or even try to convince. I was all out of cards, exhausted and just done with it.

I put the keys to HIS new car next to his bed, turned around and walked out the door. As I closed the door shut behind me, I heard him call my name once, maybe twice. But what could he say that would make it alright? What explanation could he give that would make me turn around?

That evening, I booked a one-way flight back to my home country, to my parents home. After 3 months of keeping this awful secret inside me, it was time to face up to the truth and tell my parents that my MARRIAGE was OVER!

Slutty Red Car for Cheating Husbands (Part I)

When I was still blind and happy with my marriage, unaware of the warning signs and red flags; I allowed myself to dream of the fairytale stories of a happily ever after. I saw myself in a dream home, with a dream car (actually two), prince charming at my side and of-course our 2 wonderful children (one boy and one girl).

Now that we were married I was already looking forward, and the next step was to buy a second car. A car that would be big and safe for those children we were going to have, a car with 5 doors so it would be easy to put them in and out of their car seats. A car that would be suitable for the family vacations I had already planned out in my mind. A family car!

(August 2008) When my husband wanted to buy himself a motorbike the previous year, I as usual didn’t have a say. It didn’t matter that I thought it was too dangerous, or inconvenient. Or that I actually didn’t see when he would have the time to ride it, or where to, considering we live in a cold and rainy country. But he made up his mind and bought the newest most expensive model, fresh off the production line. It was a black Kawasaki ZX-6R Ninja. In women terms what that means is – sexy bike, made for free-spirited bad-boys who want to show off, take risks and be wild. The bike of-course came with a whole new wardrobe of tight black leather jackets to complete the dangerous bad-boy look. I couldn’t say a word. It was HIS money, and this was the way he wanted to spend it.

(December 2009) When the following year, I decided that I wanted to have a second car for MYSELF, things were not quite as simple. The car became a negotiation game between us. I wanted a new one; he wanted it to be second-hand. I wanted a Peugeot; he would not allow for a French car, or a Japanese one, or even an American for that matter. I wanted a black or silver one (anything but red, which was the color of the first car I owned with which I had a horrible accident in and ever since felt that red was an unlucky car color for me), he wanted anything sexy – red included. I wanted a 5 door car (for the eventual kids), he didn’t seem to mind, a small two-seater sports car would have also been fine. So while the choices became smaller, the compromising (especially on my behalf) became bigger.

(January 2010) Although we searched and searched, went from dealer to dealer and browsed all cars online, we didn’t really seem to agree on anything. Not the model, the year, or the price.

It  was somewhere around this that time that I became aware that my husband had cheated, with an employee. A girl who he had brought into our home.  A girl I had hosted for New Years Eve dinner! And although he claimed that the affair was over, and we decided to try to rebuild our marriage; not knowing what our future would hold, I decided to put a hold on the car searching.

(End February 2010) One day I sat with my husband at a bar. We were having lunch and drinks; when out of the blue he brings back the car issue. “I want to get a car for MYSELF” he said. I was a bit shocked;” I thought you already had a car and a motorbike” I answered. “Yes but the motorbike is inconvenient, and I found a good car for a good price” he replied.

The car apparently was his mistress’s car, and she was selling, for a discounted price! My immediate response was HELL NO. Not only was her car small, with only 2 doors and RED, it was above all things HERS!!!

I couldn’t understand why he would do this, how he could even consider it? Was he attached to the memories he had there with her? Was he trying to help her out financially? Was she black mailing him? Or could it be that he just couldn’t grasp how unbearably painful it would be for me to see her car everyday and be reminded of the affair?

What ever the case was – my answer was final. I would not have that car; I would not sit in it, or drive in it, or even be made to look at it! I didn’t care if she was giving it for free, or even paying him to take it.

(March 2010) My husband and I resumed the car searching we had started back in December. But two weeks into it, he just turned to me to say he changed his mind, and actually didn’t need a second car.

But once again something felt wrong. It was those feelings in the gut of my stomach telling me that there was something I wasn’t being told, a secret I was being kept away from. So I did what I knew best. I started spying! But when the car was no longer parked where it should be, under her flat apartment, for a couple of days in a row, I smelled something rotten. I drove around the entire city looking for it. Looking for any place I thought she might be at: shopping, work, friends, family. But there were no signs to where it may have disappeared.

That weekend it hit me, the car was no longer there because she no longer owned it. But I hadn’t seen it parked next to our house either. Could she have sold it to someone else? My mind kept telling me not to let it go, that my hunch was right and I was on to something AGAIN! Inside I had a feeling that the car was already ours and parked somewhere where I couldn’t spot it. I know it sounds drastic and unbelievable (like something from a soap opera) but the idea stuck in my head and I couldn’t get rid of it. So after searching once again all over town, Monday morning before work, I decided to drive to the car garage which always did our car maintenance. And there to my total disbelief was her car, parked exactly as I had expected it, bright shiny and red, waiting for its new owners to pick it up.

I straightened myself, looked as confident and self-assured as I could, sucked in a deep breath, walked in the office, and asked if OUR car was ready to be taken home. The mechanic who knows me and my husband for years now, looked at me and without a trace of a doubt said “sure, give me a minute I’ll get your bill and the keys for you.”

If He Cheats is it Over? Paving the Path to Disaster

After the initial toss of angry words and accusations; on my part, I did everything I could to try to work it out. I sat with my husband, I talked to him, and I even suggested we go to counseling. I proposed the things I thought could help us go through it, and move on. I read everything I could about infidelity and I even made my husband read some of it as well. The best article I found on the net was: How to Rebuild Your Spouse’s Trust after an Affair. For a while it was my new bible. I suggest for anyone who has gone through marital infidelity to read it – especially those of you who have done the cheating.

The steps were easy enough but no matter what I tried or how much I tried, the fact that I had caught my husband in his lie was too much for him to bear…and he unlike me was doing everything possible to pave the road to disaster instead of working on rebuilding our trust and love in each other. He was doing everything opposite and against the rules.

Here are the steps (but make sure to read the whole article, it’s worth it):

1. Stop lying
2. Be around
3. Do not get defensive or assign blame
4. Treat your spouse as if they were the center of your world
5. Cut any and all possible ties with the other man/woman
6. Your life must be an open book
7. Be prepared to answer any and all questions about information that your spouse has a legitimate right to know.
8. Do not attempt to dictate the length of time the victim spouse’s recovery should take
9. Choose your battles wisely
10. Be prepared to get rid of items that may serve to remind your spouse of the affair.
11. Do not behave inappropriately or create future problems.
12. Use this opportunity to create a new relationship with your spouse.

So WHAT DID MY HUSBAND DO? He kept on LYING! He confided and continued sharing his most intimate feelings and emotions with his mistress instead of me, he made her his new soul mate, he even told her my secrets. Hell he told her how much money I had in my bank account.

Worse than that, he did what no adulterous two-timing cheater should ever do. He pointed a blaming finger in my direction. Actually, he blamed everyone but himself (or her), for the whole thing. He even blamed my family, who by the way live oversees. It was my fault that he was unhappy, it was me who caused him to run to the arms of another. He was practically saying that I had put a gun to his head and forced him to cheat.

He kept seeing her behind my back; he became more and more secretive putting codes and passwords on his phone and computer, and refused to go to relationship therapy. He demanded that I calm down and get over it claiming it was a thing of the past. And to top it all off, not only did he NOT get rid of those things that made me think of her but he even BOUGHT HER CAR from her (more on that in my next blog).

Slowly but surely my husband went into withdrawal, closing the door on his relationship with me and paving the road to disaster. So the article may have not helped him in a way, but it helped me. It put things into perspective, and helped me understand what should and should not happen. It showed me that he was not trying to work on this relationship like he should be. Still I believe that this article, which comes with tips and warnings, is useful for anyone who truly wants to work on their marriage. Good luck!

A Love-Hate Relationship…

The gift I received from my husband as a “reward” for not noticing that he was having an affair, was not the usual one. He didn’t bring me flowers, or perfumes, or even chocolates. He didn’t shower me with extra love, or kisses. No, that would have been a dead giveaway. I would have noticed off the bat that something was wrong.

My husband NEVER gave me flowers – he hated flowers. It didn’t matter that I love them. It mattered more that he hated them, and therefore had no wish to have them around the house. In the 10 years together, the only time I got flowers from him was the day he proposed. I would have thought the engagement ring was enough, but my husband seemed to have his priorities all wrong.

Perfumes are on the other hand something he loved, and he loved even more to pamper HIMSELF with new perfumes. For every perfume bottle I have in my closet he has three. His smells needed to be stronger, sweeter and better then mine, so that people would remember his scent. Not that he never bought me perfumes. I got perfumes on birthdays, Christmases and valentines days. But it would have been strange to get them on just a regular Monday.

Chocolates as much as I love them were something that was not really allowed in the house. My husband was keeping me on a strict diet. Always watching what I ate, and how much. Sweets were definitely not something he wanted me to have more of on a regular basis.

As for showers of kisses and hugs…well that’s just not typical for a macho man, is it? Affection was not a common word in my husband’s vocabulary. Yes we would cuddle on the couch when watching a movie, or hug in bed before sleeping. But after 5 minutes I would usually hear something like, “it’s too warm can you move to the other side”, or “don’t be so close, I can’t breathe”.

So I didn’t get any of those gifts. He was smart enough to know that a change in his behavior would raise suspicion. So he acted completely normal. or Almost…

No, my husband decided to purchase something for me that I had been wanting for about 10 years. Something that I had been begging for since the day I felt comfortable enough to call his house my home. But as much as I pleaded I would always hear the same excuses over and over again: “The house is too small”, or “it’s not allowed in the apartment building” or “we’ll get it in the new house”.

When he finally decided to get it, it was a big secret. Everyone was in on it but me. He asked me to leave the house for 2 days so that he could do everything that was needed for this surprise. Already at this point I wasn’t too happy about the idea. Why did he need two days? What was he planning to do in the house? If it was something major, why didn’t I get a vote on this decision?

My mind started racing…was he painting the house? Redecorating? Buying new furniture? That all sounds nice but I thought we wanted to move to a bigger house, so why spend money on this one?! Was he finally changing his hobby room to baby room? That sounds wonderful, but don’t I get a say on how this room should look like? And don’t we have to start working on making a baby first? Did he buy a dining table? I’ve been dying to have one, and was getting quite sick of sitting on the floor to have dinner, but would that take two days to arrange?

Whatever my mind came up with, nothing seemed logical, and no answer made me happy. Even if it was a great idea, I was already disappointed that I didn’t get to have a say, be part of the decision, be the equal partner. I was worried and anxious, and already a bit negative about the whole thing. But his parents seemed thrilled at the idea, and kept calming me down, even though I explained how I felt and why.

Finally the two days were over and I got a phone call to come back home after work. I was hesitant to walk into the house, not sure what to expect. And even more nervous and confused since his parents told me they didn’t want to be there when I walked in “too personal” they said, but his best friend was invited to join and see my reaction.

As I walked in I saw it, right in front of me. The whole house had been changed in order to accommodate the large PIANO in our small living room. I should have been happy. Maybe even ecstatic. But I wasn’t. In my mind there was only one question floating around: WHY? Why now? Why in this house? Why did I need to beg for so long? Why did it need to be a surprise?

The answer to my question came two days later, when I found out of his affair. It was simple; this was his present to satisfy not me, but his own guilty conscience. He was trying to make up for his long period of infidelity by giving me an expensive offering. Needless to say I now have a piano with which I have a love-hate relationship. I love to play it, but hate the reason behind why it was bought. I can go for days without touching the damn thing, because I know that had he not cheated, I may have not had a piano, but I would have had him!

Getting Caught!

Why do men always think that they will get away with cheating?
Do they think we’re stupid? or just blind?
Or do they just expect that flowers and gifts will cover it all up?

When it hit me that my husband was having an affair my body started shivering all over. I screamed, I yelled, I fell to the ground, I cried. I was in pain; I was angry, upset, disgusted, and devastated. I had never had so many emotions all in once. It was unbearable.

A few hours passed by before my husband came back home….and there it was the moment of truth. But as I sat there, ready to approach him, I amazed myself. Because the only thing I wanted was not to yell at him, or hit him, or even bite his head off. I just wanted to hold him and for him to hold me. I wanted him to tell me how much he loved me and no one else, to tell me that it was just a stupid mistake. After all everyone makes mistakes. I wanted for us to work it out. So much so, that against my better judgment and my usually  unforgiving nature, I was willing to forgive, to let bygones be bygones, to find a way to repair and move on. This was the love of my life…and I couldn’t bear the thought of letting him go. I wasn’t ready to let him go.

Unfortunately it wasn’t about what I wanted, and life wasn’t just going to hand anything to me on a silver platter. My husband’s first reaction to this “insane” accusation of mine was denial. Still I wasn’t willing to back down. I gave him a second chance to redeem himself and tell the truth; but once again he shook his head and contested to my “absurd” allegations. After the third time, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I looked him straight in the eye and told him he was a liar and that I knew it. I had found out everything there was to know, I had the proof in my hands and there was no sweeping it under the rug.

He was stunned, flabbergasted. In retrospect I guess he just couldn’t think of any excuses on the spot. And so he gave in and confessed. But not even two minutes passed by and his mood suddenly changed into that of anger. How dare I have snooped in his personal stuff? How dare I betray his trust like that? I was the crazy, jealous wife, who was going through his things, spying on him. And this was something he could not forgive me for. He needed to show me that I was in the wrong and put me back in my place. This was of-course what I would later realize to be the beginning of the end.

But at that moment in time,under all the anger and disappointment I knew that what he was really feeling was shock and dread. He had underestimated me, misjudged my intelligence, and now had to deal with the grief, torture and aggravation of having been caught.