I suppose most men learn their wife is having an affair by arriving home at the wrong time, overhearing an imprudent conversation or finding physical evidence like soiled panties. My enlightenment was different: my wife sent me an email.
Actually, Ann didn't email me intentionally, although Freudians might say otherwise. My guess is that her email program automatically suggested my name as her intended addressee and she clicked it without checking. That's certainly easy to do, especially if you're in a hurry.
Whatever the case, I was bemused to receive a note from my wife of eighteen years entitled "About Yesterday." Since "yesterday" was a rather ordinary Wednesday, I wondered why Ann would write me an email about it. Opening the message, I found the following:
Darling, I just had to tell you again how wonderful yesterday afternoon was. You made me feel things I hadn't felt in years. I can't wait till next week.
Your Sexy Lady
I had been at work all day Wednesday and, as far as I knew, so had Ann. We hadn't even spoken on the phone that afternoon, although I did recall her being unusually cheerful when she got home that evening. Furthermore, "Sexy Lady" is not one of the terms of endearment I use with Ann.
The ugly explanation I leapt to seemed inescapable, and my first thought was to confront her that evening and demand an explanation or, more likely, a confession. But I am a logical and methodical person. It took no great imagination to suppose that she might deny the implications of the errant email, make up some alternative explanation, or simply pass the whole thing off as a joke. What could I say then? Moreover, my fruitless accusation would put her on alert, and any chance I might have of uncovering the truth would almost certainly be lost.
After further consideration, I decided to adopt a wait-and-see approach. First, it would be interesting, even amusing, to see if Ann realized her mistake and would initiate an explanation on her own. If not, I had been put on alert and had been given a schedule for her next assignation. That was information I intended to put to good use.
Ann sells real estate, so her hours tend to be irregular. This evening, she got home well after I did. I watched her carefully but found her behavior absolutely normal in every way. If she was aware that she had mis-addressed her email, she gave no sign of it. I, in turn, made no hint that anything was amiss. The whole evening was routine, but when we went to bed, I found that sleep would not come.
Instead, I lay there wrestling with my problem, looking at it from every angle to see if I could unravel the knot. One possibility, of course, remained that there was a completely innocent explanation. If this were so, I would not only make a fool of myself by acting rashly, but I might even do harm to our marriage. I loved my wife, and the last thing I wished was to do something that might drive her away from me. Alternatively, if the email was indeed the "smoking gun" that revealed an affair in progress, then my marriage was already in jeopardy, in which case I would have to take action.
Just because I try to control my emotions doesn't mean I don't have them. As I tossed and turned in my bed, the pain of my wife's possible betrayal ate deep into me. After lengthy consideration, I concluded that I my only option was to put the issue aside until I could obtain more definitive information. Fortunately, that's something I'm able to do, and once I reached that conclusion I soon drifted off to sleep.
Once I got to work the next morning, I mentally reopened the issue. In the light of a new day I realized that the coming Wednesday should provide some answers. Accordingly, I contacted a detective agency and made arrangements to have my wife followed. If she did nothing out of the ordinary on Wednesday, that wouldn't absolutely ease my fears, but I would certainly feel better. However, if she engaged in unfaithful behavior, at least I would know the truth and could begin to take appropriate action. Having done all I could do at that point allowed me to set the whole matter aside and go back to my work without distraction.
From all outward appearances, the following Wednesday was exactly like any other. Ann and I left for work as usual and returned home late that afternoon at almost identical times. There was nothing about her appearance or behavior that struck me as abnormal or unusual. I sat in the den reading my favorite collection of short stories by Edgar Allan Poe and did my best to conceal any signs of my own unease and suspicions.
On Thursday morning I had an appointment with the detective agency to learn the outcome of their surveillance. While I am not a very emotional person, I can still read emotions in others. When I walked into the office, the detective handling my case avoided making eye contact with me. I knew immediately that I would not like what he was about to tell me.
It was as bad as I had feared. Early in the afternoon, my wife had left the real estate office where she works, and the detective had followed her to a cut-rate motel near the airport. He handed me pictures showing her meeting a man there and entering a room with him. The time stamp on the photo read 1:52 p.m. Approximately two hours later, another photograph showed the two of them leaving the room together arm in arm.
"I'm sorry," the detective said to me. "We always hate to be the ones to confirm your suspicions. What would you like us to do for you now?"
I thought about it for a minute. "I need your help one more time. It would appear that this motel is the scene of their regular assignations. If that's true, is there any way you could arrange to get photos of what happens inside the room?"
The detective didn't hesitate. "We have a lot of experience obtaining such evidence. There will likely be an additional charge for ensuring the cooperation of the manager of the motel, but if that's acceptable to you, I think we can guarantee satisfaction."
I nodded. The cost would be cheap in exchange for the proof.
I returned to my office but this time found to my surprise that I was unable to concentrate on my work. Now that all doubt had been removed, my ability to compartmentalize my thoughts seemed to have vanished. Finally, I gave up trying to work and began to focus on what I had learned. Wiping my eyes, I began to make plans.
In addition to the confirmation of my wife's infidelity, I felt I had also discovered why Ann had happened to send the telltale email to me instead of him. It turned out that I knew her lover -- he was our neighbor, Mark Bradshaw. Since my name is Mack Bishop, the email program must have suggested my name after Ann had typed in the first two letters. Very careless of her not to double-check, I thought, but I suppose lust has a way of distracting lovers.
Knowing the identity of Ann's lover further increased my sense of betrayal. Mark and his wife Bobbi were friends of ours. We'd often dined at each other's homes or gone out to movies together, and I'd never noticed any special spark between Ann and Mark. Had I been blind, or had the two of them practiced the art of deception well? Whatever the case, I knew that I had to do something. The question was what.
For several hours I mentally flitted among numerous courses of action. At times, fantasies of revenge played through my mind, only to be followed by scenarios in which I imagined myself pleading with Ann not to leave. Questions about why the affair started and how long it had been going on plagued me. Anger and self-pity danced with one another in my thoughts.
Finally, I came to a conclusion. I not only knew what I wanted to accomplish, but I had a pretty well developed plan for achieving my goals. My campaign would involve two separate courses of action that would take place simultaneously. I thought of them as divide and conquer: divide the two lovers and conquer her heart again.
For the divide part of my plan, I would use my knowledge of Ann and, to a lesser extent, Mark to drive a wedge between the two of them. With any luck, I could thwart their relationship until they decided to call it quits on their own. The second part would involve an all-out campaign to win back Ann's affection by becoming the perfect husband. At the same time that I was showing her the downside of her relationship with Mark, I hoped to show her the benefits of resuming her relationship with me.
