My husband of 36 years was killed by a drunk driver. I discovered he was cheating on me. I plan to confront the affair partner on Thursday, Dec. 1.
My husband portrayed himself as more than perfect. I lived with him and I had a gut feeling several times. I discovered a texting email affair with a coworker several states away. I got mad — he said it was to get his orders in — bull! I made my point, said my say. Drug him to marriage counseling (once) and decided — (I did not tell him) — he’s 60. I’m not checking the phone of a 60 year old man.
Well! Dumbass me! He had a new job and a work phone. He hid her name as a client. He deleted all text and calls. Dumbass saved a screenshot of a text with her email on it. Remember he was killed by a drunk driver. 36 years. The wake, the funeral, was massive. He is a saint in our community. I was heartbroken and devastated!
I’m on my second therapist. My first one told me I would forget about the affair partner once I moved? What? Anyway, I just have to see her — she’s a “friend.”
I read your book. I so want to figure this out — put it on a shelf and rebuilt my life. I’m now 61. He was killed in 2020. I only made the discovery in 2021. It’s such a hot mess! He was killed, he was a saint — he was a cheater.
How the holy hell am I going to heal from this? I have to tell my adult children. I don’t want them to hear it from someone else. I’ll accept all guidance, suggestions or advice.
One good note, the fucktard had great life insurance and I remind him of that all the time! I mean everybody delete your damn Google — it’s one click! Your book helped me and I took what I could from it. He couldn’t have loved me. I can assure you — I would never would have done this to him. He’s not better than me! He painted that picture like a master. Better friend, better Christian, better child, better parent! Looking back so many signs. I seriously believe he was a serial cheater. I had no proof, but I know.
What an ass! I live in a small town. I am glad I’m moving, because the shit is going to hit the fan and I’m the best me left to deal with the aftermath. It goes without saying that the AP is a country cunt.
Wish me luck.
If it were me — and I’m just evil this way — I’d tell your social circle first. Confront Schmoops last. Let the gossip vultures do their work.
If you tell Schmoops first, she’s going to try to control the narrative. Pam’s gone insane! She’s spreading terrible lies about me! She’ll probably try that anyway, but a little evidence shared with the right person in a small town…
Of course, talk to your children before you talk to anyone. As you said, it’s better they hear it from you.
My advice on that front is, remember he’s their dad and that’s their complicated legacy to work out. They may be really upset with you for telling them, as they probably would prefer the unblemished memory. The other possibility is that they already know — many children are pressed into conspiracies with the cheating parent against the chump parent — and may be relieved that you now know and they don’t have to keep secrets.
It’s all fucked up — just remember, you didn’t create this clusterfuck, he did.
I think your instincts are right to couch it as, “I’d rather tell you this before you find it out from someone else.” Stick to the facts, leave out the editorializing. Answer questions if they have any. Leave it alone if they don’t. They might circle back, they might not. You always have to be the Sane Parent, even with adult kids.
Now back to confronting your “friend.” I’m sorry, double betrayals are so hard. Don’t expect ANYTHING from her. Clarity on timelines. Apologies. Regrets.
Need absolutely ZERO from her. Wanting something is a kibble power trip for her. She will not feel your pain. (See goldfish don’t knit sweaters cartoon…) If you confront, do it for yourself.
“Hey, Country Cunt, I know you fucked my husband behind my back for 14 years. And now Bumfuck County knows too.”
Be ice cold.
Remember, the disordered feed on your distress. (Centrality! Kibbles!)
Lake Superior in February COLD.
She will try the three channels of mindfuckery — rage, charm, and self-pity.
I predict charm first. “Pam! How are you!” Bomb drop. Self-pity. “This is hard for me too! Harder really! I couldn’t grieve!” Then rage as she realizes you’re telling people/have told people.
Not your problem.
If she doesn’t like the consequences, she shouldn’t have fucked your husband.
Good luck tomorrow, Pam. Report back.
P.S., Sending out the bat signal to Unicornnomore who can commiserate with the whole dead cheater phenomenon. This situation has come up before on the blog.