His Cheating Heart — and Other Body Parts

I wasn’t sure why at the time, but I decided to transcribe all of the text conversations the X and I had after my discovery of his very bad behavior.  Now I know why — so I could share it all with you.  The following texts are the ones between us after I found his emails to E.


S – Please tell me how to stop the reel of what happened between the two of you from playing in my head. It hurts.

X – I don’t know how to stop it other than to tell you it was a bad dream that will never happen again and that I love you with my whole heart. I stumbled, but I will never stray again.

S – I still can’t believe you and I are having a conversation where you say the words, “I strayed.”  It just doesn’t seem real.

X – I’ll do anything to make it better sweetie. Just say the word.

S – I wish there was something you could do.  I just want it all to go away.  I want to blindly trust you again. I want the constant nausea gone. I want the images of what you two said to each other erased.  I want to feel whole again.  I hate that thoughts of you and her and what you two shared just pop into my head sometimes.

X – We only exchanged a few emails love. Only you and I share stuff. She and I had a few emails, you and I have a life and each other!  I love you!  It’ll never happen again!  She was just a game.  You are my soulmate!

S – I know you’re frustrated with me and you think I should be moving on, but (the boy child’s) baseball game days are really hard for me.  It’s hard for me knowing that you will be around her and that you found her attractive – before you tell me it was all just a game, at least acknowledge that you don’t tell a woman that you want her “perfect mouth” wrapped around your dick if you aren’t attracted to her.  I’m just extremely insecure and having to be at a baseball game with her makes me want to throw up.

X – I don’t think you understand my frustration.  I’m frustrated that I did this to you.  I’m not frustrated with you at all!  I completely understand how you feel.  You are the last person I would be frustrated with.  This is all my fault. You misinterpret my absolute disgust with myself for frustration with you.  I love you!

S – I need to know EXACTLY what went on between you two.  Otherwise, you two share this sexy secret.  I don’t want you sharing anything with her.  Ever again.

X – Sweetie, I’m telling you, you know the worst of it.  The truth is, I sent those emails to her when I was drunk and I don’t remember what they said love.  I truly believe what you saw was the worst.  I really do.  I was a selfish, unthinking idiot.

S – Yeah, you’re right.  You were a selfish, unthinking jackass. Oh, sorry. You said idiot.

X – I do have to admit. You are a witty texter.  I love the hell out of you!

The First Cut is the Deepest

That line from Sheryl Crow’s song wouldn’t stop running through my head.  I guess the first cut really is the deepest — unless the second, third, fourth and fifth cuts are all worthy of Jack the Ripper.

March 14th, 2012.  That was my personal D Day — you know what I mean.  Dazed.  Distraught. Devastated.  Disgusted.  It was Spring Break, and we had plans to have dinner with our boy child’s best friend’s family.  The X and the boy child were out front mowing the lawn.  I needed to get on the laptop the X and I had been sharing since he lost his job in January to check my email to see if E (remember her?) wanted me to bring anything besides dessert that night.  I went into the X’s home office and was surprised to find an email from E to the X staring back at me.  I scanned the email.  Why was she emailing my husband, and why were the two of them talking about the margaritas they couldn’t wait to share with each other?

I scrolled through what turned out to be a very lengthy email exchange between the two of them and stopped cold when I got to the one the X sent to her telling her, “I can’t wait to have your perfect mouth wrapped around my throbbing cock.”

My mouth went dry and my body started to shake uncontrollably.  That couldn’t possibly be right.  This was my husband — and our son’s best friend’s mom.  Looking back, I wish I had the presence of mind to send the entire conversation to the printer, but when you see your husband talking about another woman’s mouth being places it has no business being, your mind doesn’t exactly click on all cylinders.

I was able to pull it together long enough to go to his “Sent” file to see what fresh hell awaited.  The only email address I didn’t recognize belonged to M.  I opened the last email he had sent to her.  He was asking her about potential job leads then told her he would be traveling to the northeast soon and would love to see her gorgeous face and body again.  What. The. Hell.

How could this be?  Not my husband.  Not my life.  I found a post-it note, wrote down M’s email address and his salacious message to E — I didn’t want to have to hear those words come out of my mouth when I confronted him.  I went to the front door, opened it, and stared at the man I thought was my soul mate.  The man I evidently didn’t know at all.

“Hey, babe.  What’s up?  Are you okay?”

Um, no.  I am not okay, and I will never, ever truly be okay again.  But thanks for asking.  Not trusting myself to speak, I motioned for him to follow me.  We found our way, in silence, to the walk-in closet off of our bedroom.  I handed him the post-it note.

“What the hell is this all about?” I was shocked at the steadiness of my voice — knowing it wouldn’t last.  Then it happened.  The tears came — and came — and came.  I couldn’t tell which was coming faster — my tears or his excuses.

“I was drunk when I wrote that.”     “She was helping me with job leads.”     “We started talking about the kids at first and things just got carried away.”     “It was all just talk.  Nothing physical ever happened.  I’d never do that to you.”     “I’m so, so sorry, Summer.  It will never happen again.”

Not just the room, but my whole world started spinning, “Go tell the kids we aren’t going over there for dinner tonight.  Then you email that whore and tell her you two are done.  We’ll talk more about this when the kids are in bed tonight.”