My Husband's Affair Became the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me (13 page)

“It’s okay,” Vincent said. “The dog can handle it.”

I stood before them like a fragile reed, which could be broken at the slightest force, too weak even to hold onto a puppy.

They invited me into their living room and encouraged me to sit down, bringing me a glass of water since I refused everything else.

Alexandra was a fitness instructor and well attuned to the common symptoms of someone whose spouse has had an affair. She saw all the eating disorders and appearance obsessions regularly at her workplace.

When Alexandra learned that I was fasting, she was concerned for my health. She did not feel fasting was a good idea at the best of times, much less in a time of crisis.

She had made a beautiful homemade borscht that evening, but I refused to eat it. She encouraged me to take some home in case I wanted to eat it later. I accepted, and, later at home that night, I did actually eat it. The soup tasted good and made me feel a little stronger, yet as I ate it, I worried about my weight and whether or not I was doing the wrong thing spiritually by not staying completely true to my fast.

Journal entry, May 21, 2000:

Vincent and Alexandra were an awesome encouragement to me.

It was not that anything profound had taken place during our time together, it was the fact that we were together. I knew they were successful, busy people, but they had put their own schedules on hold to be with me when I needed them, and the fact that they would do this communicated to me that I had value. When your spouse is tossing you aside for another, like a well-worn garment being replaced by a new one, one feels as if one has no worth remaining, like a piece of garbage (something that had value at one time), but now the only thought towards it is how can I get rid of it with the least cost and inconvenience to myself. By being available, Vincent and Alexandra had also saved me from myself. They had given me a chance to talk about my feelings, and every time I shared my story with someone my pain was slightly diminished. They didn’t talk much that evening. I did most of the talking, but in what they did say they offered compassion, understanding and perspective. I had felt safe sharing with them, because although I wanted to talk about how Brian’s actions were hurting me, at the same time I didn’t want anyone to think badly of him, and I knew that they wouldn’t. They sought to understand.

DAY SEVEN-MONDAY, MAY 2 2, 2 0 0 0

I woke up at half past four. This was far too early, but a chance to attend the 6:00 AM prayer meeting at our church, attended mostly by businessmen before they went to work.

I showed up and lucky for me, the only others there were leaders who knew of my situation. They asked me how they should pray for me, and for an update on what was happening between Brian and me. I gave them a raging, excited, non-stop venting of my feelings.

I was unaware of my lack of self control, as the words spewed out like soda from a shaken can. I got a sense of my wild state though, when they stared back at me wide-eyed, as if I were some sort of crazy woman. Their eyes showed compassion, but also confusion. What do we do with this out-of-control female? I don’t know how they felt when it was all said and done, but I definitely felt better.

Brian came home unexpectedly around three o’clock that afternoon. Danielle had now become my partner in the crazy win-back-Dad-at-any-cost routine. The other kids still believed that Dad was just working a lot. Danielle and I were keeping the home immaculate “just in case,” and ensuring that all laundry was always done.

When Brian arrived home, he was treated like royalty, with undivided attention, in spite of the hurtful and distant behavior he was displaying. Danielle and I ignored his behavior. The truth was, we were afraid.

My identity was thoroughly shaken, and I really didn’t know who I was or who I should be anymore. All I knew was whoever I had been hadn’t been good enough. I had to try harder, work harder and be something else.

Brian had told me that one of the main things that he found attractive in the other woman was that she liked sports. I hated team sports and I hated the way Brian was hypnotized by the television set when he was watching them. I criticized him for what I called “wasting” time watching sports.

For the first two years of our marriage, Brian and I watched television together every night. I felt this got in the way of enjoying quality communication time. Eventually I had grown so dissatisfied with the situation, that I had persuaded Brian to get rid of the television altogether. In a relatively short period of time, we filled the gap by reading books, engaging each other in the stimulating conversation we had been missing, and enjoying quality visits with friends. It had been a great change, yet tonight I regretted it.

Tonight, in my endeavor to win Brian’s affections back, I rented a sports movie.

What a devious plot,
I thought to myself as I envisioned Helen “pretending” to like sports just because she knew she could steal someone else’s husband that way. I couldn’t comprehend a woman actually enjoying watching sports. I didn’t get it.
Why watch someone else live life?
I thought.
Wouldn’t you rather be involved in spending your time doing something rather than just watching someone else really live ?
But then I thought maybe I was wrong. I wanted Brian so badly. From now on, I decided that my new identity included a love of sports.

I watched the movie that night with determination to enjoy it, and neurotic determination to be better than Helen in
every
way, but Brian remained grumpy and closed off. I found it very difficult to be around him and not be kissed, not hold his hand and not even have him be willing to sit beside me like he always had in the past.

That evening Brian and I talked privately before we went to sleep. It turned out that the reason he had come home that night was to tell the other two kids he was moving out, however I had successfully stalled him and since it was now late he decided to spend the night at home instead of returning to his hotel. I used the opportunity to ask him if he would be kind enough to grant me one last favor before he left me for good. I told him he would then be completely free to leave and I would not make it difficult for him. So he promised me my favor, without knowing what it was.

I then spelled out my final request: that he tell the other two children he was leaving, and that he do it with Helen there.

“Anne, surely you can’t be serious?” he asked, appalled by my request.

“Brian, you’re walking out on me, and you are walking out on your responsibility as a father. Our children are going to be severely hurt by this however they find out and they are going to need some way of coping emotionally. I’m convinced that meeting the other woman, who is better for their father than their own mother is, will help them to be able to process this.” I didn’t mean what I was saying, but I wanted Brian to face the reality of the situation.

“When they see what a kind person she is and how willing she is to be good to them, it will be much easier. Otherwise they will have no choice but to view her as some sort of evil person who is just out there. You just promised me this one last request,” I reinforced. “It’s the least you can do now that you’ve decided to walk out on us after all these years.”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” he said, reluctantly.

I wasn’t sure that I had made the right move, but then I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Not even sure of who I was, and definitely not sure about right and wrong.

Brian slept at home that night and I viewed it as an opportunity to lure him back, glad to have him in my territory rather than Helen’s. I had a strange sense of sexual arousal going on, a feeling of needing to prove something, combined with an overwhelming feeling of love for him.

I was losing my lover of eighteen years and I wanted him back at any cost. As we got ready for bed that night, I thought carefully about how to approach him. Normally we slept in the bed naked together.
Should I be naked tonight under these circumstances ?
If I wore some of my alluring lingerie, it would be too obvious.

Brian resented it when I purposely tried to seduce him if we weren’t getting along. Unlike many men, Brian attached a lot of emotion to lovemaking, and didn’t like to have sex unless we had resolved issues between us. Yet sometimes when he saw me naked,

he would get aroused and give in. This I viewed as a good thing, because he was never angry with me after we made love. Sex seemed like the ultimate cure all for discord between us. In the past, we could never stay angry with each other for very long, because the desire for sex always brought us back together.

I opted for the strictly naked approach to seduction this evening and purposely walked around wearing nothing but myjewelry while I brushed my teeth and got ready for bed. I ensured that Brian saw me as I did so, yet acted as if I were innocently going about my business, unaware of any effect this might be having on him.

He did look. Then I climbed into our bed beside him. He was keeping well to his side of the bed with his back turned towards me, although he was also in the nude, as always before.

“Brian, I still really love you,” I said to him softly.

He didn’t respond. I reached towards his back, stroking it gently with my finger tips the way I knew he loved, but he quickly twisted himself around in the blankets, cutting himself off from me, making it so that I could not touch him. His rejection reinforced my assumption that I was not physically attractive, and, really, it was cruel.

DAY EIGHT-TUESDAY, MAY 23, 2 00 0

I had now lived through one week of my nightmare. I had lost ten pounds so far, but was starting to experience the second wind typical in a prolonged fast.

I was also still dedicated to lengthy periods of spiritual meditation. On this particular morning, as I closed my eyes, I saw myself as a beautiful, strong goddess in white flowing robes. Behind me stood all the forces of goodness in this world. Then I saw Helen opposing me in black and crunched over, fearful and weak.

The army of darkness that stood behind her looked small and powerless, and they knew they were no match for the forces of good.

I may have been imagining what I wanted to see in my head, nonetheless, I began to feel strong and powerful. I had a sense of renewed energy and spirit flooding my soul, and for the first time in a week, I felt confident about my own future.

Somewhere deep inside, I knew that if I did not lower myself by doing wrong, but allowed the forces of good in this world to work on my behalf, I would eventually win, whatever winning looked like.

That night, I sought out Mameha, the young Japanese mother who had shared her own story regarding her husband’s affair a few weeks earlier. I needed someone to talk to who could identify with my experience. Now we knew why she had shared that part of her story. It was to encourage and prepare me. I didn’t relate to Mameha in many ways. She was a very different person than I, still she understood my pain and it was very helpful to talk to someone who had been there. Those who haven’t, try as they might, truly don’t understand.

Mameha shared with me how she had met the other woman, whom her husband had not only had an affair with, but had planned to start his life over with. I focused all of my energy and attention on Mameha, listening intently to every word she spoke. I did not want to miss the slightest detail of her experience, which might offer some insight into my own. How did it feel to meet her, I asked? Did you feel intimidated by her? What did you say to her? Was she nice to you? I flooded Mameha with questions and she answered every one, honestly and compassionately. Clearly Mameha was no longer hurting over this situation. I wondered how she ever could have gotten past it.

“It was very important for me to meet the other woman,” Mameha told me. “It somehow helped me to put things into perspective. I could see that she was just a person, somehow not really that different from me.”
Not different from her! How could Mameha be so accepting of this woman who was willing to destroy her home, and steal the father of her children,
I wondered?

“It also helped me to see that she wasn’t as pretty as I imagined her to be. That really helped me,” Mameha was saying. I continued

to listen spellbound. “I think it’s very important in this situation to meet the other woman. Anyone going through it should do it.” Mameha told me. I was now inspired. I had a new goal. After all, I had the phone number. Tomorrow, I would phone Helen.

CHAPTER 9
crazy Making 

DAY NINE-WEDNESDAY, MAY 2 4, 2 00 0

What if?

What if I had listened to my instincts?

What if I were younger?

What if I didn’t have issues?

What if I had shaved my legs more often?

What if I had put your needs first?

What if I had maintained the status quo?

What if I hadn’t looked for answers?

What if I had never found out?

What if I were more like her?