It has been two months since I first tried to write this post, and now that I am in the healing process, I guess it is time to tell the story…

It was a Saturday night, really Sunday morning, and my husband was out with the boys. He got home rather late, in the wee hours of the morning, which means he had an awesome time, partying, drinking, and smoking with his friends. Even after he came in and fell fast asleep still dressed in his clothes on the bed, I stayed up to catch up on some missed television. Eventually, I crawled into bed beside him and noticed that he didn’t put his phone on the charger.

Something inside of me told me to go through it. All of the drinking and partying put him to sleep, and he wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon. I’m not a stupid woman; I know when you go searching for things, it’s easy to create a story from things that seem suspicious but aren’t. We had already been through those moments in our relationship. We had been married a solid year at this point, and things were going smoothly. Going through his phone should have reassured me that all was well. That’s what I thought…

To my surprise, there was an interesting exchange between him and another woman – someone who was recorded in his phone only as initials: LDS.

The conversation was full of inappropriateness: he called her sweetie, baby, bae, boo boo. He told her that he missed her, that he was thinking of her, to enjoy her day, that he loved her.

The reality of what I was seeing came down on me like a cloak. I felt numbness and anger all at once as I took pictures of the conversation. I took pictures of his call log – the many phone calls showing how much they talked, how he interrupted our time together to go and call her from the coziness of our garage, and how she was the one who had the majority of his time.

The messages showed how much he liked talking to her, how much he missed her when they weren’t communicating, how desperate he became when she wasn’t responding.

He told her she looked good in her red dress…

…which meant he saw her that night.

Where? When? He was supposed to be at the club with his boys…

In a fit of desperation and panic, I sent a text message to my sisters. I asked them to pray for me – because I wanted to kill him, to suffocate him in his sleep. That way I could put this mistake of a marriage behind me, quickly get over how much he had hurt me and how stupid I had been to trust him.

“Once a cheater, always a cheater.”

“You knew how he was when you married him.”

“You can’t make him change.”

Was I just another stupid woman who got married thinking that she could change the man she was with? No, I wasn’t stupid. I didn’t come into it thinking that. He hadn’t been that person before we were married. He hadn’t given me much reason to doubt his love and his loyalty. Were there signs that I had missed? Had they been there all this time? How long had this been happening? How long had he known her?

It was clear from the messages that they worked together, but he had just started about four months prior. Did he know her before, or did they just start this affair four months ago? What is it an affair? The messages didn’t say much about sex, but the flirting had to come from somewhere – or be leading somewhere? Who was she? Where did she live? Was he at her house? The messages made that clear too.

I had so many questions, and I didn’t know whether to wake him and confront him or cry myself to sleep. My sisters told me to sleep, not to say anything at that time, not until I had more answers.

The next day, we were scheduled to sit through a birthday dinner for one of his friends, and I had to decide if I was going to sit through it or possibly end our marriage that morning. My sisters’ advice was to let it ride, not to say anything until I had more details, until I knew what was happening for sure.

I couldn’t hold onto the pain…

…I had to voice it.

And I did


He left the birthday lunch with one of his longtime friends, headed to a Fantasy Football draft party. I sent him a text: “Don’t get drunk. We need to talk when you get home.”

He responded, “What’s wrong baby”

“I need to tell you something. We will talk later. I just need you sober.”

He called several times, but I didn’t answer at all. He kept calling and texting.

I responded, “I said we will talk when you get home.”

His final text before it all blew up was “I’m coming home now.”

He came home, and I was ready. I felt like I was preparing for war.

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4 thoughts on “War

  1. I admire every word here. You are brave for (1) accepting that you are participating in a war you didn’t begin and (2) reaching out to others – even yourself – in your writing. You are stronger than you know.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. […] previous posts take you through the recent downfall of my marriage, the following aftermath, and how I’m slowly but surely trying to find my way back to love, […]


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