I know, you were all thinking prenatal vitamins, midnight feedings, and enduring four-hour sports banquets made you a better mother. No, it’s fucking around. Please turn in your PTA memberships for Ashley Madison accounts at once.
Apparently Silver has quite an oeuvre of What’s Best For The Children. Hosting her ex-husband’s date at her apartment is good for the kids too.
Though unconventional, the experience was strangely beneficial for all of us. It was especially good for our kids.
I’m proud that I was evolved enough to host my ex-husband’s date in my apartment.
Why did she divorce him (after the delirious bliss of cheating on him)? He was a paranoid schizophrenic. With depression. Maybe. It depends on what article references him. Suffice it to say, she had her reasons. The important lesson here is that Elle is more evolved than you are. Relatable, but edgier! And her children delight in her happiness.
The Universal Bullshit Translator is having none of this. I’ve dragged it up to Northern Michigan where its cooling its transponders and admiring Great Lakes freighters. Do not disturb its idyll.
But… but… Elle had a TRANSFORMATIVE PERSONAL JOURNEY!
Oh geez. After much resistance, I’m in for a lot of cookies on this one.
While waiting in line at the market to buy groceries with my two children, my younger son reached to hug me. Pulling my cheek toward his lips, he planted a kiss there.
“What a sweet boy you have,” the checker said as she began to scan our items.
Not to be outdone, my older son helped bag the groceries. The checker gushed more.
I was astonished myself. This was not normal.
Usually, my two sons, aged eight and nine respectively, were getting into mischief. They broke down into tantrums as a daily occurrence. They acted out more than they behaved.
Had my sons changed? Or was I the one who was different?
I had changed. After years of suffering in a miserable marriage, I’d decided to have an affair.
My child bagged groceries. My other child kissed me. A stranger gushed. It Must Be a Sign that my personal happiness has altered the universe.
I was no longer the same person. I felt happier than I had in a long time — and that happiness was rubbing off on my sons.
Just my good mood. None of my perfidy.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not promoting cheating on one’s spouse as the solution to a couple’s marriage problems.
I mean, you probably don’t care about your children’s happiness and well-being. So keep it in your pants, Drudge.
Even back then, I knew cheating was wrong. But being angry and depressed while enduring an unhappy marriage was also bad.
So I created this false dichotomy. That the only way to address a unhappy marriage was by fucking around. Introducing more instability into an unstable situation. Is cheating “bad”? Well, so are my moods!
Cheating was but a Band-Aid over the festering wound that was my marriage. Though admittedly an analgesic, my affair did provide a reprieve.
I am a festering bandaid in a wound of my own making.
It made me happier, and as a result, my kids became happier, too.
It made me spliffier and as a result dolphins became earflaps and moonsockets whoozled.
I’m sorry, the UBT is malfunctioning.
I FUCK STRANGE FOR THE CHILDREN!
And in that way, cheating on my husband made me a better mother.
My sons benefited from my improved mood.
By this logic, I am taking up meth.
Think of it this way. I’d been cranky for months on end. Often in a dark mood, I was easily annoyed at the slightest infraction on the part of my sons.
Destabilizing a paranoid schizophrenic parent with an affair is exactly what one should do when one is feeling cranky.
Suddenly, my mood had brightened. I could sweat the small stuff and go with the flow. Of course, my sons reacted to that.
I can only imagine that was the reason why my boys helped push our cart to the car that day at the market. They unloaded the bags into the trunk for me, then got into the car without me having to demand it.
Within minutes of starting our drive home, though, my eldest son’s device ran out of battery. He scooched as far as his seatbelt would allow him across the backseat to where his younger brother was seated.
He wanted to watch his brother’s device — but my youngest was none too happy about sharing his YouTube video.
An argument broke out. Whereas a few weeks earlier, I would have screamed expletives into the backseat, I calmly told my sons: “Please stop arguing and just share with each other.”
The way Mommy shares with Nathan, the nice man she met on Adult Friend Finder.
Something about my peaceful tone — the shock of me not becoming incensed. This stunned both my children into halting their squabble.
My younger son let his older brother share his device. My eldest quietly watched.
All this because of the way I had reacted.
Other parents would be like, “I AM PULLING THIS CAR OVER RIGHT NOW.” Whereas I’m like whatevs. I’m hooking up with Nathan at 4.
What a difference from how I would have treated this scenario before my affair. Now I felt too content to be angry.
Instead, I beamed good vibes onto everyone. Obviously, my kids were the main benefactors of my cheerier spirit.
I dropped some acid. Now I felt too content to parent. Instead I beamed good vibes onto everyone. Better parenting is all about the vibes.
At first, cheating did make me feel guilty.
I’d never say that having an affair was a smooth ride. At first, I felt guilty about it. I was terrified my sons would notice a change in me — some evidence of my betrayal.
The first time I slept with my new lover was on an early weekday afternoon. Directly afterward, I had to go pick up my kids from school.
Would my sons smell the deceit on me? Could they see the deception in my face?
Um, I don’t think it’s deceit exactly that they’re smelling…
My sons noticed nothing.
Gullible chumps, just like their dad.
They scurried out of their classrooms, the same as always. Just like any other day, they galloped ahead of me to the car, tumbling inside, and immediately begging me to stop at the donut shop.
On our route home from school each day, we drove right past a donut store. Usually, I had the resolve not to stop. Today I didn’t.
I felt terrible about what I’d just done with another man behind my husband’s back. I felt the powerful need to atone for my sins.
I’d apologize to my sons with donuts, absolved by sugar and fat.
I’m breaking up the family — enjoy this donut!
Dad may be moving out, but we’ll always have maple glaze.
I was much less nervous my husband would discover my cheating. He hadn’t even mentioned the noise since we arrived home.
The boys scarfed their treats. As I wiped the crumbs from their faces, I wished my life was as easy to clean.
I felt soiled — and now even worse after filling my sons’ bellies with sugar and fried dough.
I tried to mitigate those feelings by brushing my sons’ teeth as soon as we reached home. If I couldn’t clean my conscience, then I could clean my children’s mouths.
What sort of 8 and 9 year old do you have that won’t brush their own teeth? Do they have arms? Did you have to harsh your vibe? UBT is curious.
I went after my eldest first. He wouldn’t hold still long enough for me to get the toothbrush into his mouth. Bouncing from the sugar, he shot away from me.
I chased him around the room. By the time I finally caught up to him and managed to brush his teeth, I was too tired to try again with his younger brother.
Oh I get it, this is the part where you demonstrate your Responsible Parenting. The UBT was losing the thread. You care about their dental care. But clearly have no idea how actual tooth-brushing is accomplished.
Where was their father while all this was happening? Sleeping? Reading about one of his conspiracy theories? Watching porn?
He was ignoring me just like he always did. No wonder I was cheating on him.
I will NOT be ignored. I have donuts and toothbrushes at my command.
I was much less nervous he would discover my cheating. He hadn’t even mentioned the noise since we arrived home.
Still, guilt nagged me. Over the coming days, those feelings eventually disappeared.
I stopped condemning myself so harshly. My shame was replaced with a sense of tranquility and ease.
And my sons ultimately benefited from that.
I never condemned myself. I cheat with tranquility and ease. My sons benefit from my sociopathy.
Before I had an affair, my sons were failing in school.
Before I met my lover, I often received calls and emails from my eldest son’s teacher about how he was disrupting the classroom. My youngest was still unable to read. I believe our miserable home life was affecting both my sons’ ability to sit still and learn.
Once I started having an affair, the disorder in our household quieted.
Oh for fuck’s sake. Call Betsy Devos! Elle can cure learning disorders with pussy.
I was no longer so depressed, picking fights with my husband whenever I could. Now I had someone else to occupy my thoughts and fulfill my emotional needs. For years I’d been unable to give my kids the attention they needed because I was so unhappy. Now I could.
I’ve been able to give my children so much more attention since I devoted all my thoughts and waking hours to an affair.
It was only then that my eldest finally stopped acting out and my youngest learned to read.
I’m not promoting cheating, but it did help my family.
My pussy can teach the alphabet. I’m not promoting cheating, you may prefer illiteracy.
I know the idea of cheating on one’s spouse is distasteful to many. I agree — I should have just left my marriage.
But that’s not the decision I made. I had an affair instead.
I did it for the alphabet. For donuts. For the children.
My real healing didn’t start until I finally left my husband though. He also had problems that he could only recover from after we separated.
And that’s what matters, Elle’s “healing.”
But I don’t believe I would have ever mustered the courage to leave my marriage if I hadn’t had the affair.
I had to separate my identity from my husband’s. Cheating drew a line in the sand that defined where my love for my husband ended. It marked the conclusion of our relationship. After that, there was no going back.
Even though my affair was short-lived, during the time it lasted, in its strange way it helped my entire family.
And one of the most important ways it helped us was by making me a better mother.
Keep fucking around, Elle. I fear what would happen should you get cranky again. #savethechildren.