I read your book right after D-Day, lying on the floor, to stop myself from feeling like I’m falling. At the time, it felt like a big joke, like this is normal cheaters, but my husband is different. I didn’t follow any of your advice, like quietly shoring up my finances for the divorce. Nevertheless, your book was a guiding light for me throughout the whole ordeal. I reread it a month ago and amazed how every word was true and applied to my situation. My husband was just a run-of-the-mill cheater with a character deficit.
A short version of my story: Found out last year, accidentally, that my husband had been having an “open relationship” for years with another woman who was doing the same. He basically messages every woman in a 200 mile radius on this dating site and ushers them through a sales pipeline. He shares stories of his great sexual adventures with his main AP, who he still insists is “only a friend.” I’ve felt gated out for years, and I’ve been suppressing my gut reaction to things that looked like cheating. I trust him and just thought that he was just being too close to his female friends.
On the first D-Day, I found intimate messages of him and this woman, talking about me in a rude and invasive way. On subsequent D-Days, I found the trails of his online dating, tons of graphic dating profiles, hundreds of women, a lot of conversations about me. In his own words, he was a very happy guy, with a great job, a girlfriend that he shared everything with, and a perfect life with his perfect wife. I did the pick me dance for a few months—it was hell—until he randomly blurted out that he refused to give his AP up. I kicked him out and filed for divorce. For the most part, I’ve only contacted him regarding divorce proceedings.
A few days ago, I randomly came across greeting cards that he made for other women on our computer which is now mine. They were quite graphic and went back further than I had thought. Some were dated within a few days of my miscarriage. He made a “get well” card for his AP because she was recovering from a cold. Meanwhile, I soldiered on and worked through the emotional trauma of my miscarriage alone. I broke no contact and told him that disclosure would be good for both of us. And the email below is what I got.
I know I’m not supposed to give weight to the words of a delusional person, but so many things he said just got under my skin. Like he said he didn’t tell me about his double life because I was suicidal, and I said, did you also think about that when you actually chose to cheat? In reality, I had mentioned off-handedly that I thought about suicide once in college. I went to a high-pressure Ivy League school where that shit was real. Another thing that stings was his accusation that I was emotionally abusive, because I tried to break up with him the few times he waved giant red flags. Me giving him a second chance is now recast as emotional abuse. His lying and gaslighting and trying to coerce me into an open marriage after I found out about the cheating are now recast as him carrying me along. His “love letter” was all about him—he loved me so he wrote me a manual to meet his needs.
I know I need to discount his thoughts and feelings, but I don’t really know how. I’ve lost all respect for him, but I loved him every day for many years and on some level, loving him is a deeply ingrained habit that I haven’t managed to turn off. I’m so sorry for subjecting you to my long email and his even longer one. But if you have a UBT for this, I would really appreciate it.
(Editor’s note: What follows is an attachment of such lengthy, lugubrious bullshit, I can only abridge. The UBT is a mere machine.)
Never feed the fuckwits.
I told him that disclosure would be good for both of us. And the email below is what I got.
You got a kick in the teeth. Was that good for you? No, of course it wasn’t.
He’s not an honest broker. He’s a creepy, disordered man with a double life. You know enough.
Read that again. You. Know. ENOUGH.
The pipeline. The sales channel. The 24/7 deception.
You can’t process it all right now. This shit is incredibly traumatic. But asking him for MORE details is just giving you more abuse to work through. He is NOT going to love all your hurt away. He’s a freak with a double life.
Okay, you love him. It’s a habit. Blah, blah, hopium snort, blah. You can break that habit. Everyone here broke that habit and you will too. In fact, some day soon you’ll be embarrassed that you ever knew him. Why? Because he is MORTIFYING.
You’re this articulate woman with an Ivy League degree and he’s some yammering New Age buffoon with a wandering dick. He’s unworthy of you. Now, get back on the no contact wagon. Anything you have to say to him can be said through lawyers.
Tracy, what’s in that attachment?
Gooey, New Age blameshifting.
I mean, I have to give the guy credit for being prolific. Most cheaters peter out after a few grafs. But this guy is the bullshit Dostoevsky. The UBT cannot take this kind of volume.
That said, it hasn’t earned any Lebkuchen lately, so I’ll toss it a few choice sentences. Trust me, I’m sparing the rest of you.
You have burnt many bridges. You expressed that you wish to burn this bridge as well, so I´m singing my song one last time for you. From the deepest of my heart I wish you can hear at least some of my voice.
I am a fat lady with an aria. You are an arsonist and a Philistine.
I wish you appreciate at least some of my profundity.
I have lost many people as well, some just lost, some dead. It´s part of life. Every wind gust carrying my fathers ashes in my hand to the Ocean made me grow a little. Even more debilitating is your fear of neglect. When a baby doesn´t see mommy it´s life threatening. You´re a grown woman, you can and have moved mountains and you know it. You’ll be ok.
I am not a pathetic loser. I am a wind gust of personal growth.
You can move mountains. So shove aside this enormous pile of bullshit.
I don’t know if you can imagine how deeply it stings when the woman you married and have been with for over 15 years tells you, that you don’t care if she kills herself. Please don’t say that to anyone ever again.
I don’t know if you can imagine how deeply it stings when the man you married and have been with for over 15 years gaslights you to the point of suicidal ideation.
(Excuse me. The UBT is having technical difficulties. Belching up empathy where none exists.) WHACK!
I am scolding you for the emotional abuse I inflicted on you. Heck, I probably crafted this line into a few dating profiles. My wife is a suicidal nut job. Only you can suck my dick and save me.
I would like you to watch this (first 3 Minutes is enough). There is a relevance that I would like you to try and see. Even most of the lyrics are relevant to us. It’s a first audition of a shy 14 year old girl from Hamburg at one of those casting shows. Watch it before continuing to read please. https://youtu.be/aHMgX1F5fCs
I am a shy 14 year old girl from Hamburg. I have a gift, but no one suspects my greatness.
If you think this analogy is preposterous, continue to read please.
When she opens her mouth, that 14 year old shy girl drops all chains, opens her soul and fills the entire hall with her energy. Grown men, professional music producers lose it and jump up and down like children. That´s what happens when you open up, put your soul out and are willing to see, hear and feel. Without judgement, without fears, prejudice, without expectations…
A single look in the eyes and you know. Sometimes total strangers with cultural backgrounds that couldn’t be any more different. Immediate heart warming and goosebumps because souls see each other. For a long time I hid from it. It wasn´t appropriate. I didn´t know how to handle it. I don´t want to hide any more. The little Patrick boy in me that will never grow up and sees with curious eyes and an open heart and wakes me up in the middle of the night, I won´t ignore him anymore. I now know you can’t hear my voice. I now know you can´t see me for what I am. You see a few colors. I have many more.
I must be free to live in technicolor! Without judgement! I see souls! And rainbows! My dick is untethered and I won’t ignore him anymore.
I hoped one day you could see them all. I hoped one day you could see past the shell. I wished one day you could drop your chains. But you can’t.
You were suffocating me. I wrote you a love letter years ago, a literal manual for Patrick and cry for you to see me. It went unanswered and unused.
Why won’t you read my manual? Are you the sort of person who just tries to assemble Patricks without reading the instructions? They’re written in Swedish, and all the screws are on some foreign metric system and you could spend your whole day trying to assemble a Patrick and it’ll still be a cheap particle board partner.
Anke is my ex-girlfriend. None of that makes any difference. They are all deep connections with different colors.
Leave me to fuck the rainbow. Farewell.