I'd been through it before and vowed never again. Guess I should have listened to myself. This time however, I wouldn't be spending $3000.00 to have some private detective follow her and collect evidence. This time I'm just filing the paperwork and saving myself the money.
My ex-wife, Lucy, after six years told me she was dissatisfied with our life. It seems I worked too many hours, we never went anywhere, and she was bored out of her mind. I guess if I hadn't hired a person to clean the house once a week and taken her out to dinner three times a week she wouldn't have been so bored, but that's another story.
Per Lucy, things had been going down hill for a while and I was too much in love or naïve to see what was really happening. Being the good husband, I cut back on my hours and became the model husband, or so I thought.
I think all cheating women read from the same damn handbook. It starts off with nitpicking, then bickering, followed by full-blown arguments. Then there is the 180-degree turnaround. You don't argue anymore, hell, you barely talk except about bullshit items. Your once great sex life has dwindled down from 3 to 4 times a week, to maybe once if your lucky; and that one time is like fucking a store mannequin.
You suck it up, apologize for being an ass, even though you're not, and for a while it gets a little bit better, but it's not like before. At this point you start to think the unthinkable, and hire someone to confirm your bride is still pure and untouched by anyone but you.
It doesn't take even two weeks before you find out you're not even getting sloppy seconds anymore as your wife is now withholding sex to show you who's boss.
You think about that twelve-year-old bottle of scotch in the liquor cabinet and dismiss that idea. You'll only open that bottle when the tramp is on the outside looking in.
Another four grand to David, a heartless prick of an attorney, and the paperwork is filed. You say a silent prayer of thanks to your late father for insisting on a pre-nuptial agreement and another that your bride was trusting and willingly signed it. I guess back then she was in love with you.
You have her served while she's at Pilate's class. You're in the back watching through the observation glass as the server walks in, ask if she is Mrs. Stephen Moore, and after hearing her say yes, hands her a large manila envelope and tells her she's served. I only wish she could have see the look on her face at that exact moment. No matter, it was done or will be in a couple of months.
I was fair, how can I not be, it's all laid out in the pre-nup. She comes home to a check for $50,000.00, her clothes in fifteen garbage bags, the locks changed, and all her credit cards cancelled. I'm sorry to say the new BMW I gave her for Christmas is also hers free and clear.
There is the "Steve Honey, it meant nothing!"
"But it did to me," I tell her.
I'd hired a van and driver to transport her shit so in fifteen minutes it's all over. Where she went I didn't know or fucking care. I go inside. I've got a twelve-year-old bottle of scotch calling my name.
That is the one and only time I got loaded. After four more months of telling her "No!" and then "No fucking way in hell!" she relents and I'm finally free of what once had been a pretty decent wife. Truthfully, alone at night in bed I miss the old Lucy sometimes. Then I think about the cheating and I no longer miss her. I just thank God we hadn't had any kids yet.
I do nothing for about a year and a half. I go out with groups of friends but make it known upfront; I do not want to be fixed up, at least not yet. At three years I start to date more frequently and finally jump back into the dating scene. I'm getting more nookie than I did the last two years I was with my ex.
Then I meet Vicki at a cancer fundraiser. I'm sitting across from her and my eyes never left her the entire evening. More than once she looked my way and all I could do was smile. I heard from my friends that she was divorced and that she was still bitter towards men. But I wasn't just any man and I also had been cheated on so at least we had something in common.
WRONG!
It took two weeks before she'd even answer my calls and another two before she'd sit down with me and have coffee. It took another month before she'd warmed up to me enough where she would have dinner with me. If this woman was playing hard to get, she was doing one hell of a job.
Dinner was going well until the third degree started. How did I meet my ex-wife, what went wrong with my marriage, and what did I think I could I have done to change the eventual outcome. With every answer, Vicki had another question and eventually I got tired of it.
"She cheated on me!" I finally said, probably too loudly. "She took a vow to be faithful to me and broke it on at least five occasions."
"Why didn't you go to counseling? It might have saved your marriage," she said a bit too smugly for my comfort.
"The first time she took him to bed we were done. She knew how I felt about fidelity and it was written in black and white on the pre-nup she signed. The party, who cheats, gets only a token amount of the joint assets."
"Well, I tried to work it out with my ex for about a year before we split everything down the middle and I walked away, but at least I can say I tried everything."
"Vicki, you were a lot more forgiving than I'd ever be. Look, she just ended up being a lousy wife. Can we just drop this subject, it's putting me in a bad mood."
"Steve, I just want to know the type of man I'm dating that's all."
"Well, now you know and if I don't fit your criteria for a suitable date well then I'm sorry, but that is who I am."
After that, the evening seemed to go down hill and by ten-thirty I was looking for an excuse to end this date and take her home.
The drive home was quiet. I walked her to her door and got a kiss for my trouble, but thank God wasn't invited in. I took her name and number out of my phone. I didn't deserve to be treated the way she had.
I was at a nice steak house with a lovely lady, having a fantastic time when I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Vicki.
"Fancy meeting you here," she said, looking towards my date.
"Where are my manners?" I said moving around in my seat. "Vicki, this is Amber. Amber this is Vicki, a lady I met at this years Cancer fundraiser."
I said it with a smile on my face but I wanted Vicki to disappear, and quickly.
"I saw you and just wanted to say hello." By this time her date had walked up behind her. "We're on our way to that new jazz club that just opened off Fairmont downtown. Well, have a nice evening," she said, finally walking away with her date.
"You use to date her?" Amber asked.
"It was just one date and it wasn't too memorable," I said, reaching for her hand.
Did I get lucky that night? No luck involved. Amber dragged me into her condo and had her way with me until we both fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion.
Two days later an e-mail popped up on my computer. Nice seeing you again. Maybe we can go out for drinks sometime. I think we got off on the wrong foot last time.
Yeah think!
We e-mailed and then talked on the phone a couple of times over the next two weeks before agreeing to meet up at a club that catered to the over thirties clientele.
"Why in the hell am I doing this?" I asked myself sitting at a table for two waiting on her. If she just would have let me pick her up, but no, Vicki thought since the last time hadn't gone too smoothly, she'd meet me here. She was now fifteen minutes late.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw her walk in. Damn if she didn't look hot. I'm not sure if what she had on could have been officially called a dress because it didn't contain that much material. Every guy in the room eye fucked her as she walked by, even the ones with dates. I got to my feet and took three steps towards her.
"Sorry I'm late, my car wouldn't start and I had to take a cab here."
"Don't worry, the way you look I would have waited all night." Damn that sounded lame but it was true, I thought to myself as I pulled out her chair.
"We can sit later. Right now all I want to do is dance." And we did, for the next twenty-five minutes.
The DJ played two fast songs then two slow ones alternating for the next hour. I had to tell more than one guy that NO, Vicki was not going to dance with them. She just smiled and held me a little tighter.
When we got back to our table I ordered us a couple of drinks; a whiskey sour for her and me a Corona. This time around there was no interrogations or the attitude she'd displayed on our last date. She broke the ice.
"I'm sorry about last time. I'd been on some really awful dates and decided to find out a little about you right away. I sorry I was so blunt. But, if you were an ass, I wasn't going to waste my time making small talk for the rest of the night."
"Well, did I pass?"
"What do you think? I'm here aren't I?"
The rest of the evening we floated on air, well I did anyway. She was nicely put together and fit into my arms perfectly. Screw the fast songs; we finished the night only dancing to the slow ones.
"Would you mind giving me a lift home? Trying to get a cab at this late hour would take an act of God." We walked out of the club arm in arm.
I got a kiss with a lot of passion behind it but no invite in. Did I expect it? Not really. Vicki was the type who was going to take it slow. I hoped not too slow after holding her hot body in my arms all night.
Twice a week we got together. Slowly we took it up a notch and by week six I woke up Sunday morning in her bed.
"I hope you don't feel less of me," she said, watching me wake up. "You're better than I thought you'd be," she said with a smile.
"What? You thought you'd have to show me where all your parts were, and what to do with them? After all, I was married before."
"So was I, but my ex never got it that making love involves two people, and that both people need to get off before you stop." I laughed, she didn't. "He was selfish and not only with me. That's why he's an ex."
Men are stupid, even those that have been married and divorced at least once. After that night our honeymoon period started. I can't say I was In Love, but I was dazzled by her beauty and found we both liked to do most of the same things.
I didn't consider us exclusive just yet and it looks like neither did she, because when I went out to dinner one night with a client and his wife, I saw Vicki out with some other guy.
We didn't even play the "I see you" game. She saw me looking at her when I sat down, and I had other things on my agenda.
My client and his wife were a wonderful couple and were madly in love after thirty-five years. "Steve, you married?" his wife asked.
"Was, but not anymore."
"Can you see yourself getting married again?"
"Not sure. She would have to be pretty special and there's the trust issue I'd have to overcome."
