Early on when I found out about the first affair my cheater husband gave me some line about how “It just happened.” He stated how it was just something he stumbled upon. All of a sudden he was at a work meeting out-of-town, in a bar after the meeting, his meeting attendee just having left, having had a few cocktails and flirting to the point getting a whore’s phone and texting a message to his number so he could reach back out to her. He reached back out to her an hour or two later inviting her back to his room. Sure, that just happened.
During those first few awful weeks after discovery when my cheater couldn’t let his Ground Zero Whore go (even though he had neglected to tell me that) I had been reading a lot, devouring anything and everything that could give me answers to the fuckedupness of my life and my cheating husband. I’d read a lot where the delayed “no contact” is a pretty regular thing, so while I fucking hated him caring more about her feelings (which really was about caring more about himself and not wanting to let “it” go) I understood it. I even expected it. That’s why he sat on our marital bed and cried and I comforted him. I knew it wasn’t about the whore. It was the whore represented and to him it represented his escape and his confidence. If he wasn’t going to get it from whores, who the hell would he get it from?
Like I said, I understood those first few times of not letting her go. The third week. The sixth week. The tenth week? Not so much. In fact, he – well, we – are still paying for the damage he did during those last few months of seeing her. He will tell you at the time he felt “drawn” to her and that he didn’t know why he couldn’t let her go, he “just couldn’t.” If I can pinpoint anything that stopped progress, I will tell you that those weeks of continuing the affair after the affair had come to light.
Look, I can get over the actual dick in vagina act with time and remorse and redemption. It’s the deception and the further deception as well as making me think I was crazy at the time I had a feeling something was still going on.
The damage was done.
It set me back months all the way back to me not working on reconciliation because who wants to reconcile with a man who can’t make up his fucking mind? Some other stupid person. By the time he did figure out he wanted me and his family it was too late.
The damage was done.
Just existing together with him working on himself hoping it would eventually help me and us.
Another year passed and I found another clue. The gut feeling worked out well and led to finding something suspicious and it was then that my cheater had started to work with his CSAT and I started discussing him taking a polygraph. His fucking lying, cheating, whore worlds collided. He had to come clean because his sorry ass had been backed into a corner. We scheduled an appointment and the long list of affairs dating back almost two decades was finally out in the open. This was a year later. A YEAR. He’d waited another fucking year to tell me he had been cheating since almost the beginning of our marriage. I had begged him to tell me everything so I could move on and start to heal a year prior.
He finally told me.
Then I told him.
“The damage is done.”