Yeah, well, so it seems.
Roger and I have been very open and honest about what happened, what went wrong, what coulda, woulda, shoulda happened, as well as what really did. Of course it was painful. Of course many said I should never know the details. But that would have driven me even further into insanity. I thought hard about what to do when I found out about what he did. Should I leave, take his ass to the cleaners, would that make me feel better, would that be the best outcome for the three innocents in all of this, our children. Should I pretend it didn’t happen (I wish!) I am not that person. I can’t do that. I can’t compartmentalise. I felt early on, and amazingly, even he understood, that we need the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth if we were to have any hope of trying to salvage the wreckage of our couple of decades of “true love.”
One of the things I did was ask a whole heap of questions. I questioned what he thought I did wrong. I questioned what/when/how he had identified had started him down this destructive path. I questioned what he thought would happen if he was discovered. I questioned what he thought would happen to our kids. I questioned if he cared what they thought. I questioned why he did this with someone who was my friend. I questioned how he thought that would play out if they were discovered, my-friend-his-ex-who-I-was-so-fucking-cool-about-him-remaining-friends-with and him, perfect. I questioned how he coped with that fact. I questioned. And questioned. And questioned. And he answered. He hesitated over some details, but always answered. I think he answered truthfully. Who knows. A liar is a liar is a liar. One of the things I identified early on was his shift in morality. I had many lightbulb moments, but never kept the power up to them, the moments passed, and fizzled, I missed them all, but I identified one especially with regards to this. Several of his friends shoot together, and they have always had a maimai at the back of our farm, on a duck pond. When we shifted, one of the guys – a ring-in, someone he and I were not so fond of, as we knew he was a bit of a shit, cheating rumours followed him about, well-founded ones – was caught taking his mistress to the unfinished building (they were all building a new one, perfect, down a long, isolated no-exit road, nowhere near our farm entrance, and then several kilometres of dirt track, accessible only by four wheel drive) and fucking her there. I found out, and told him I was disgusted, and wanted no part in providing a venue for him to deceive his wife. Roger had always been pretty anti-cheating, and this time he said, something along the lines of, they all have keys to the gate, and I can’t police it, yes, it is super shitty, but it’s none of our business, who knows what is going on in his marriage, maybe they “have an agreement.” I heard this, and I told him I was not happy about them fucking on my property, I knew his wife, and I knew the mistress’s husband (who had previously cheated, ugh.) However, I conceded to what he said, how could we police it, other than telling him to hand in his key, and bugger off – which was my strong suggestion. He refused, saying it would cause chaos within the building group. First clue my love was changing his morals. Guess why? I can’t remember timelines that far back, but I think he was not shagging skankola then, but obviously there was some mental shifting going on. Guess where they did most of their fucking subsequently???
There were other moments, but I missed them all. Or I didn’t follow them up, must have been some kind of denial really, that is what faith, trust and love do, they make you blind.
After D-day, we were still working together every day, and we had a lot of time and space to talk. I remember asking him what was so special about her, to risk everything for. What was her special sex move, what had him so addicted to fucking his whole life up – what was I lacking? Hell, he was my only sex partner, she is a whore who has had fuck loads of partners and fuck loads of sex, she MUST be good, right? (Early days, you think it might be something you did wrong/not enough of/looked bad doing/fill in your own insecurities here.) He looked at me so sadly and said, “she does nothing. Literally nothing. She is cold, lifeless and boring in bed.” I didn’t believe a word of it, of course. But he has maintained that line forever, he even told me those same words when we first got together, she is boring and sexless. Her use of sex is to keep a man from leaving her, and no more. He thinks she doesn’t even really enjoy any of it. And he knew it. But kept fucking her. WTF???
Next line of questioning went down the following route. What were you hoping to achieve then? Why didn’t you just leave me? Why didn’t you tell me, or even hint to me, that there was a problem? I don’t get it. I SOOOO don’t get it.
He answered that it was total escape, total fantasy, total anticipation, that was always unfulfilled. He would drive to her place while I was at work, full of thrill, full of the idea that he was going to see someone special, and feel better about what he perceived as his shitty life, and he would always drive home with his tail between his legs, wanting to drive under a truck, thinking, “why the fuck am I doing this, I am having an AFFAIR, dammit, with a hot woman, and the sex and love I get at home with the mother of my children, which should be pretty boring and mundane, is a million times better that the excitement I anticipate, and never have delivered with hot, fantasy woman. WTF is going on here???”
I didn’t believe a word of it. Of course. But the longer it goes on, the more I realise it was probably the truth. He kept hoping for more. He will tell you that all sex is good sex. But what he had with her was deeply unfulfilling, that at best, it was pretty average, and that half the time, he struggled with performance issues, yes, he was having an affair with a skinny bitch, and he couldn’t ever guarantee a hard-on. Shit, that is not this guy!!!
So, I revisited this question. What was he hoping to achieve, once the excitement of the novelty, the newness of having his first ever affair started to die down just a smidgen? Why didn’t he LEAVE!!! God, please, just leave me you fucktard! His answer is this. They didn’t fuck often, he estimates in that fifteen months, it was maybe not more than a dozen times (I double that, then multiply by 5000.) Nah, really, they didn’t actually meet up that often. I know that the gap between fuckdate number one and fuckdate number two was five months. I know that maybe twice they fucked twice in a weekend. Whatever. Who the fuck cares. He was trying to work out what he was trying to achieve. When he finally did realise he was tossing up whether to leave me or not, he did the calculations, fed the data into the computer, and weighed up the pros and cons of leaving me, and the pros and cons of living with her. It is a fucking joke, I know. He says he talked to her about this once, and once only. He told her that he knew they could never work, they were a million miles out of synch on just about every topic under the sun. And he saw the nasty poke its head out from time to time, even though they only ever spent a few hours in each other’s ACTUAL, physical company. It was mostly a text affair. She is a selfish and cruel woman. And he knew it before he started poking his filthy dick in her filthy vag. He asked her where she thought they would live. She seemed to think she would sell her house and she would move to the provinces (where we live) and that it would be happy families, she wouldn’t have to work anymore, and could play tennis and drink wine with the idle. He said, what do you think will happen to Paula? And our children? She seemed to be oblivious to us all, oh, I would just float off, without any money, never thinking we would have to sell the farm, and that he would be worth half, and have to pay child support, oh no, the REAL world, WTF? He could see her unkindness, and how his children would be treated. An inconvenience. I will give him one thing, he is a good dad. So, he wrote off the gallop off into the sunset idea pretty damn quickly. So, that’s when you end things, right?
That is when you make damn sure you have your cake……. and keep eating it, cake supplied by me, and small crumbs supplied by her. Fat bastard!
It took him six months to end it. He says once he woke up and realised he was that arsehole who was cheating, and being a fucktard, it took him six months to extricate himself from her claws. She clung tight. Up until then they were, “just having fun.” But once he started backing away, she started with the threats, the blackmail. Hell, it was pretty bad, she, who is actually in a better cashflow situation than us (single, corporate, one child) actually got $10k out of him, to keep her quiet. But she still threatened to expose him even after he paid her. Finally he cut the ties. Then she realised he meant it, and she texted me with all the details. I think we deserve a refund.
So, this is winning. I won the competition. The competition to keep a cheating arsehole. A competition I didn’t even know I had entered. Yay me!