Mistakes Were Made Ch 02

Debbie's Story

I fell hard and fast for John. Every time we were together, I found something new to like about him. Yes, he was my type physically, tall and blond, but there are plenty of guys like that. It was everything else that came with him that attracted me. He's humble. Smart. Funny. Kind. Calm under pressure. He stands up for what's right. He puts my needs before his own.

Unfortunately, he's also a cheater. Maybe that isn't fair. He cheated. Does that mean he'll cheat again? Maybe. I don't know. The thought scares me.

John's humility probably contributed to him cheating. He doesn't see himself as a hunk, but he is, and that makes him a target. The little bitch who roped him probably had him picked out before he was even introduced to her.

For me, this nightmare started when the bitch appeared at my door. I didn't buzz her in, so she must have snuck in with some other tenant. I heard a knock on the door and peeked through the peephole to see a petite brunette. I assumed she was a new neighbor. There are twelve units in our building and there's a lot of churn, people moving out, people moving in. I barely had the door open when she started into her spiel.

"Hi. You must be Debbie. I'm Emma. I had sex with your husband two weeks ago. I thought you should know. Sorry."

She turned and walked quickly away from the door.

My vision went into soft focus. Somehow I managed to shut the door and turn around, but that's as far as I got. The floor beckoned, and I went down in a slow-motion collapse.

It might be an important sign that I never doubted Emma was telling the truth. Maybe I had sensed something. I don't know. If you had asked me before all this if John would cheat, I would have said no. He had convinced me he loved me. But, but-but-but, why was I so ready to accept the news of his betrayal?

Emma's a piece of work. I am sure John was wearing his wedding ring. That didn't stop her. She seduced him, got what she wanted, and then decided to drop a grenade into my life. Knock-knock, boom. You know by now that I didn't let John off the hook because he was taken in by someone who liked manipulating men, and maybe women, too. Still, I don't think John would have sought out an affair or even a one-night stand.

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John's self-image was set when he was a middle schooler. His school pictures from those days show a skinny, nerdy kid with some light acne. All those things improved during high school, but the die was cast and from what he told me, he stayed one of the anonymous nobodies that makeup the majority of high school students. He took his second cousin to the prom. Not pathetic, but close to it.

By the time I met him, he had filled-out into his height, his hair was cut by someone who knew what they were doing, his acne was gone, and all his positive traits were front-and-center. He told me later that he didn't think he had a chance with me, but I was thinking I didn't have a chance with him. When he didn't pursue me very hard during the fall semester of our senior year, I assumed some hottie had discovered him and had him in her clutches. I'd fight for him, but it was almost impossible to do long-distance.

My teen years were different. I was used to guys pursuing me. I'm no super model, but I'm pretty. I can point out dozens of my own flaws, physical and otherwise, but unlike John, my self-image was formed when I was already being chatted up by guys who were a couple years older than me. I knew most guys--classmates, guy friends, older brothers of girlfriends, guys at bars, guys at work, every penis-wielding human on the planet, probably--would take a shot at getting into my pants. I deflected them all without a thought. John never developed the equivalent skill on the male side.

The mismatch between the actual John and his self-image caused the almost-miss at the start of our relationship. He told me he was pining away for me the whole fall, but I assumed he was fucking his way through the coeds of BC.

Coming back to the present, the other thing John doesn't get is how much it hurt to hear he had sex with Emma. I never got the details--and I don't want them--but I can see it in my imagination. He's looking in her eyes the way he looks at me, and she knows he is hers, at least for that moment. It makes me sick. He's supposed to be mine, and mine only. He's not supposed to want her. He's not supposed to give himself to her or take what she offers. I don't know how to suppress those thoughts.

For the first few days, my stomach flipped when I saw him. I felt nauseous. When that passed, I got worried that I was giving in, and worse than that, I kind of wanted to. If he had grabbed me and held me, or slipped into our bed in the night, I don't think I could have resisted.

He didn't grab me, and he didn't slip into our bed, and I seethed.

I needed him to share my hurt. That couldn't happen, so I had to manufacture some hurt for him.

Ian Somerton gave me the idea. He asked me out the second day he worked at the company. I held up my hand to show him my rings and he laughed. "So?" he said. Somehow, I thought of that on the Tuesday of the week that John moved out. I told Ian I'd be open to a night out if we went as friends. I knew he'd put the moves on me, but like I said, I'm used to it, and I can brush guys off without even really thinking about it.

Using Ian for this role was putting a round peg in a round hole. John didn't know Ian, and if John ever found out that Ian was my date, at least John wouldn't have to see Ian around. Ian was a player, used to games, and I told him what game we were playing: payback. I knew he'd want to go off-script and slip under my defenses, but I'd shut him down. John was the only one for me. Waiting for me to come back from a date would give him a good taste of what I felt.

I thought I knew John, and I maybe I do, but not nearly as well as I thought before. I never, ever expected him to move out. I thought he'd make a scene when I tried to leave for the date, but he wasn't even home. I thought he'd light up my phone during the date, but he didn't call or text at all. I thought we'd fight when I got home, but he wasn't even there. He was gone.

John's reaction made me even angrier than I was before. When he cheated on me, I didn't run away. I didn't throw our marriage away. I struggled through the pain. Yes, I tried to think of a way to make him understand how much he hurt me, but I stayed. Yes, I ghosted him right in our own apartment, but I didn't give up on us. I went on a--quote, unquote--date, but I didn't even kiss Ian. We met for dinner, we went to the bar at the restaurant to have a coffee drink, then Ian dropped me off. He tried for a kiss, and I reminded him that I was married, and his job was to take me out as a friend, and that's all.

The night at Champlin's Arena was a mistake. My friend Ashleigh from work convinced me to go out for a drink. I wasn't enthused about going to a bar, but I was going crazy staring at the four walls of our apartment and wondering how to fix the mess that was our marriage. I asked her if she wanted to get together at her place or mine, but she had some excuse and so we went to Champlin's. I found out later that she was hoping to meet a guy there and she wanted me there for moral support. The guy brought a friend, and they sat down with us.

Somehow John found out, and the shit hit the fan. He stormed in, slammed his wedding ring down on the table, and stormed out.

The first chance I got to try and explain was no chance at all. He told me I'd be served with divorce papers.

At this point, I was a human yo-yo. When I spun up, I knew I loved him, and I didn't want our marriage to end. I wanted to fix it. When I spun down, I was angry. He cheated on me. I went on a phony date to teach him what betrayal felt like, and then he misinterpreted what he saw when I was at the sports bar, but I didn't sleep with anyone.

I was served at work. It was humiliating. Fucking Ian Somerton came by to commiserate. He made it clear he would be a shoulder to cry on. Ian's a shark and there was blood in the water.

My lawyer advised me not to contest the divorce. He said we'd just spend more money, and the result would be the same. I couldn't accept that advice. I didn't want our marriage to end, and at that moment I was planning to fight it until the official decree, and even after.

The judge gave me my last hope when he agreed to make John go with me to marriage counseling. A friend at work recommended Heather Parsons.