The Affair Discovery And Who The Hell Nicknames Their Lover: “Llama!?” 

So what happened? How did I finally get confirmation of the affair I had suspected? Get confirmation that the I was right all along? How did this all fall into place and how did my husband handle this ugly truth, the truth he refused to admit for months? Well. The husband of this mistress called me. Apparently SHE was a good person. A person with a conscious. A loving woman who just could no longer hide the truth from her husband and two kids. After all, she had morals, ethics and wanted to do the right thing. How sweet of her.

I had discovered numerous texts and calls from her phone on my husband’s cell phone records. He always had an answer, although mostly it was that he did not remember whose number it was or why it was called so frequently. Even when some of the calls were over an hour in duration. And always when I had just left the house. And the kids were not home. When I tracked the number down and had a name, his memory was suddenly jolted. “Oh yes!” That’s (insert morally upstanding woman’s name here). I work with her. We were discussing some work issues.” Really? And you could not remember that the other several dozen times I asked you? Then I found a picture of her on his phone. When I finally confronted him, he said she sent that to all the managers at work. It was a joke. She was volunteering at a food bank (because she is just so awesome!) and the picture snapped of her was of her in a large trash receptacle. (I’ll refrain from telling you how ironic it is that her ass was in a trash can.).

I ended up calling her at work a few days later. She needed to go into her office and close the door so she could speak with me in private. Red flag. I told her my husband and I were having some issues. That he was so distant and I was so desperate to fix my marriage. That I loved him so much. And that I was searching for explanations to why he was so distant. In doing so, I had come across her info, many times, and so I just wanted to come out and ask her if there was anything I needed to know about her relationship with my husband. She told me they were work associates. That all the managers were awesome. They were one big family. They were friends. She explained the phone calls were because she had a class to teach that was coming up and she needed my husband’s advice on how to deliver the material. Then she told me she felt bad for me. She understood my position. She would feel the same way if the tables were turned. She said she and my husband shared family stories. He told her all about his motorcycle. His kids. Even about me and how great I am. That he was a great family man that she respected. Then she assured me there was nothing going on between them. I was thankful that she spoke with me. I heard what she said, and I believed her. But I was upset with my husband because he told me they DID NOT ever discuss anything personal. It was a strictly professional relationship. I asked him why she would tell me that she knew all about my children. About his motorcycle. Even about me.  He said he had no idea. That she was lying. So I asked him to call her. To call and ask her why she would say such things to make him look bad, knowing our marriage was already in jeopardy. I wanted to sit there and hear the phone call. He refused. He said he would call her from work the next day. I said no. Do it now, your marriage in on the line. Do this now. He still refused, but this time, he told me how fabulous she was. And that he was not calling her at home, at. 8:30 at night because how would that look? I said to him, “you are choosing to protect her and her family, over your own?” He would not answer me, but his refusal was answer enough.

We talked and decided we needed to tell the kids something. The fighting was getting out of hand. They were bound to pick up on tensions. So we decided to tell them, together, that we were having some adult-issues, so they wouldn’t think it was anything they had done. That if they saw us talking privately, more than usual, not to worry. We called them into the room. HE led the discussion. I was completely stupefied as I sat there and listened to him tell the kids something we had not discussed at all. “Your mother/aunt and I are having some issues we are working through. It has nothing to do with you kids. We love you all very much. Nothing that you kids know will change for you, but your mom/aunt and I are no longer going to be living together as a married couple. We will stay in the house together but not be a married couple.” I will never forget the looks on their faces. That pain is too much some days. They cried. They panicked. They asked questions. I sat there quietly sobbing, trying so hard to be strong and not let the kids see my shock, disbelief and extreme pain and confusion. I failed. My eldest daughter yelled at him. HOW could he be acting like this was a business meeting when mom was obviously so upset?! He was so cold. And like he always did with me, he dismissed all their fears and concerns. The show was all about him, his needs, his wants and his comfort level. I was getting really sick of him.

The next day he drove our eldest daughter to work. On the drive there, she asked him, point blank, if he was having an affair. His reply to her? “Define affair.” What kind of man makes his 16 year old daughter define the term affair?! Well. She did. And he replied to her that he was not and never had cheated on me, emotionally or physically. I got the call from the mistress’s distraught husband less than a week later. I was driving to pick up my kids from school and I answered my cell phone. I was told I should be sitting down. “Your husband and my wife are having an affair.” Those words have played through my head every day since that day. I remember having to pull the car over. My legs were shaking so badly. I could not catch a fulfilling breath. I do not remember much else that was said by this strange man on the phone. I do remember thinking,  “Oh my.God. I am not crazy. I AM NOT CRAZY.” I turned the car around and went straight to my husband’s office. I confronted him. He lied. He played dumb. Then he said let’s talk at home. I told him I was giving him a few hours to come home and pack and that I wanted him out. I picked up the kids from school and went home. I planned to go to the grocery store so I would not be home when he was there packing. I went online to our bank to transfer grocery money. I could not get into our accounts. I had been locked out. I had learned that immediately after I left his office, he did two things: 1). He went online and blocked me from accessing our money and 2). He called the mistress to discuss how they would further lie and try to get out of the mess they created and to see if she was ok, because he is noble like that. His self-protect mode was fully engaged. Even if it meant screwing his own children. Fuckers. I hated them both. I ended up calling the police that night because he refused to leave. They came but would not intervene because no one was being threatened. We have guns in the house and they refused to take them. I was scared of him. I didn’t really think he would do anything but the whole banking issue made me see a side of him I never knew was there so I did not want to take any chances. The police left and did nothing. Legally, he had done nothing wrong. And they comforted him. They told him he did not have to leave. I threw all his clothes out of our room that night. He video-taped me doing this and called me crazy. He taunted me the entire time. He picked up everything and calmly carried it all upstairs, putting it all back. He did sleep on the basement couch that night. He was leaving in two days for an eight day business trip. One that she had arranged to go on with him. Secretly. But she confessed to her husband that they were going to be acting like a couple. He had cash he was taking with him to pay for a romantic bed and breakfast. Meals out. Shopping and sightseeing. She told her husband she loved my husband. I was sickened to my core.

Then the mass text messages went out. Every person in my husband’s cell phone contact list was sent a message, written as though it was from my husband. It was a confession of the affair and an admission of guilt. I later discovered it was the mistress who sent these messages. SHE WANTED to be outed. She wanted the world to know she was in love with my husband. He was her way out of her current marriage. And she did not care how many lives she destroyed in getting her wishes. For God ‘s sake. There were friends, family and work associates who received those texts. But she was morally upstanding and had a conscious? And my husband was still defending her.

I found a secret cell phone in his work bag that night. She had one too. It was how they communicated once they learned I was onto the cell phone records.  The only contact in his phone was listed as: llama. It was her secret cell phone number. He is so stupid. Although, she does have an unusually long neck, large ears,  really big front teeth and disturbing hair. I’m just sayin……

And this is how the affair discovery was initially handled. And the first time I clearly saw how vindictive, cold and selfish my husband truly was.


An Article on Gaslighting

I’ve mentioned this term several times throughout my blogs, and will likely do so several more times. For that reason, I felt it beneficial to post this article. I did not write it. It is an accurate description of what gaslighting is, how it is carried out and helps the reader to understand the devastating effects. I have been a victim of gaslighting for far too many years, at the hands of my husband. It IS subtle. It IS evil. And it DOES NOT make me stupid. It makes me a trusting loving human being. I will not change who I am for him anymore. Or for anyone else, for that matter. But I WILL learn and continue to grow stronger. And I WILL share my story so those who know me can see why I’ve not been myself for a long time. And so those who might not know me can learn from my mistakes. 

My urgency to take flight? It’s there. But with dependent children in my care, I must be careful and plan accordingly. I’m getting there. I’m looking for work. I’m looking at housing options. I know once my husband fully realizes that me asking for a divorce is real, (right now he thinks he can still fix this and is playing the victim) I am convinced he will turn blatantly ugly and try to ruin me, financially. He already sees that I can not just pick up and leave due to my financial dependence on him and he is using that against me. Also, he knows I put these kids above all else. A few weeks ago when I told him I wanted a divorce in the therapist’s office, he came home and said I blindsided him. That was a joke. And the next day he tried using the kids as a tool. He asked that we wait until after the holidays to tell them we are divorcing. He doesn’t want to ruin the holidays for them. So if I say no, who would be the person to ruin the holidays? Me. And he is trying to play that card. Not working. He has tried asking me on a “date.” He has asked me to spend time with me. He just asked me the other day what I wanted for my birthday, which is coming up fast. I never have answers for him. I do not understand why he waited until now to make any efforts, even if they are weak and pitiful. I think it is to buy time. I’m watching our finances closely to be sure he doesn’t try to hide and move money around. The kids have told me they wish their father and I would just split. They’re tired of the tensions in this house and tired of his games. I’ve told him this but he just doesn’t want to believe me. So I sit here. I sit here and I say barely a thing. I keep quiet. I keep the peace. For my kids. I smile. I cook. I clean. I run errands. I avoid my husband most of the time.  I’ve moved completely into my basement. I do not share a bedroom with my husband anymore. I do not wear my wedding rings. And I no longer check up on his phone calls or social media accounts. It was wasting my valuable time and didn’t matter anyways because no matter what I found, he always had a ridiculous excuse. So you see, emotionally, I’ve already flown. 

So read this link below and learn about what I’ve lived through. But today? Today I’m claiming survivor status. I’m no longer a victim. I’m flying and very soon, I’ll soar. 



Are Prom Dresses Appropriate Walmart Attire?

Did the title make you wonder? Makes me wonder too. I’d like to know how many parents, stay-home-mothers, to be specific, wear formal attire, style their hair, wear make-up and jewelry, to clean the house and take care of small children? To shop at Walmart? I really want to know. I take pride in my appearance. I do. I shower almost every single day. We all have times when we skip a shower on occasion….we are sick, exhausted, have no where to go….so we skip it. That was me. While raising my kids, I was sure to always be clean. Hygiene is important to me. I wore my hair up often, when it was longer. Typical clothing consisted of jeans and sweatshirts, sometimes sweatpants. Never old ratty beat up clothes, mind you. I did care about my appearance, but comfort was also important. It’s kind of hard to tote small kids, laundry baskets and grocery bags around wearing heels and tight clothing. I would dress very nice if we had somewhere to go, but he hardly took me anywhere. I just recently learned that his ex-boss and his wife hosted card games. She asked why I never came to those. My husband never invited me. He always told me it was for work people only. His ex-boss’s wife just told me they were always for couples. Hmmm. 

My husband. He works in a professional office. He wears dress pants and dress shirts to work every day. He owns about a dozen pair of nice jeans. Several nice shirts, sweaters, etcetera. He really cares about his appearance. Really. A lot. Even when I am dressed up, I take a fraction of the time to get ready that he does. $12 pomade.  Only Italian imported colognes. He irons EVERYTHING. 

The first time I realized he was less than thrilled with my sense of style was right after we moved. He has a friend who owns a cabinet, counter and flooring store. We were going to update the kitchen in our new home. We had not lived there very long at all. A few months maybe? Much of our things were still in boxes as we decided how to set up and decorate this new home. While the kids were at school, I would spend my days scrubbing and polishing the wood floors. Disinfecting the bathrooms. Going thru the boxes deciding what to use and what to keep in storage a little longer. I painted walls. Scrubbed carpets. One day we planned to go to his friend’s store to pick out new counters, we would go after my husband came home from work. I showered, did my usual chores, picked up the kids from school, and made dinner. I remember vividly what I was wearing that day.  A practically brand new grey hoodie sweatshirt with a college logo on the front, newer grey sweatpants and clean tennis shoes. I was clean, had a little makeup on, my hair was styled, but up in a clip, I was “put together” but also comfortable, because I was doing chores all day. We entered his friends store, said our hellos and thanked him for staying open a little later to accommodate our schedule. The first thing my husband said to his friend was this: “Yeah. I’m sorry about the way (insert my name here) is dressed. You know those stay at home mom’s and their sweats!” Then he awkwardly laughed. His friend said something like “oh she looks fine.” What was he supposed to say? What was I supposed to say? I did not want to draw attention to the mean comment or argue in the store so I let it go. It really hurt my feelings and made me feel embarrassed. He seemed to enjoy humiliating me in front of another person.  Eventually I asked him about that and his response was that he didn’t remember saying it, he must have been joking. I pointed out that he worked around professional women who dressed nice every day. I already felt insecure and his comment hurt me. He assured me I looked fine and he didn’t have a problem with how I dressed. He also reminded me of the adorable little nickname he had for me. He called me his “SwissArmy Wife!” Said he bragged to all his friends and co-workers about how awesome I was. I could do anything and I was pretty and not fat on top of all that! Yay me! That was about six years ago. 

Let’s fast forward a few more years. We made friends with a family who lives right down the road from us. Married. Two sons, pretty much within the age ranges of my kids. We spent a lot of time with this family. My husband and this other husband got along really well. The wife LOVED my husband. She told me often how nice looking my husband was. I laughed. I agreed. I thanked her. I became uncomfortable with her attention over my husband when one Christmas she bought him a Ducati t-shirt. He owns a Ducati motorcycle and it’s his pride and joy. It was a European fitted tee so she was worried it would not fit him. The first time he wore it and she saw him, she ran up to him and started to caress his chest, saying how great it fit him. She stopped herself right before she actually touched his chest. She then awkwardly looked at me, her hands frozen just inches from his chest. She pretended to do this weird “air-rubbing-but-not-really-touching” thing. She laughed a little too loud and threw her long blonde hair back. He was loving this attention and smirking. I said, perhaps a little too loudly and a little too snarkily, “Why yes! Yes, it does fit MY husband very well!”  My kids just looked at me. When we got home, they all pointed out how grossly inappropriate her behavior was and that their father was a little too happy about it. He just smiled and laughed and said “No! It wasn’t like that at all!” I think he actually blushed. 

As if that story is not awful enough, this same wife came to our house last year to bring me a birthday gift. It was so nice of her. I was touched. Her family accompanied her. My kitchen and living room were full of people and we were talking and laughing. I had just had a haircut and it was a shorter style. This wife proceeded to tell me after she touched the back of my hair that she was surprised at how soft it was considering how wiry and brittle it looked. I stood there, like what? Do I laugh? Do I gasp? Do I smack her?  Even her husband shouted her name in a reprimanding way. She said, “What?! I was just saying !” I let it go. For Christmas that year, she gave me a bottle of smoothing cream for my hair. My husband laughed. 

Another time, in the winter, I had these cute suede boots that came up to just under my knee. I’d describe my style as boho-chic. I went to a school function with her. She parked near a snow bank so when I had to exit the vehicle, there was a small mountain of snow. She apologized and I said it was fine because my boots had nice sturdy rubber soles and had a protective waterproof spray on them. She then said “Yes, I see that. My husband would never allow me to wear boots like those. He likes me to wear feminine ones.” And just like that. Karma. Karma was working that day as the moment she stopped talking, I watched her slip and fall on some slippery snow while she styled her black leather knee-high boots with 2.5 inch stiletto-like heels. Bitches look funny when they fall. 

Another time we were with this family, at their home, we were sitting in their kitchen while the wife began a discussion about how no one cared about their appearance anymore. She talked about how many gross people she would see on her shopping trips to Walmart. How these people have no self -respect and they wear sweat pants to the store. How they need to take pride in how they look. Put some descent clothes on.Wear some make-up. Do their hair. My husband chimed right in. Agreeing. How gross are these people! This conversation continued for what felt like way too long. And you know what? I was sitting there, in my sweats. Wanting to shrink. Become invisible. But I finally spoke up. I finally said something. I asked both this wife and my husband why sweats are so bad. I stood up holding out the leg of mine to prove a point. Of course, they said, I was the exception. But I did not let it go. I asked them who they were to judge? Who made them the fashion-police? How did they know some of those people did not have a sick kid at home and were running in to get medicine and didn’t have time to put on their prom dress and heels? I was pissed. They quickly changed the subject. 

Even after all I mentioned, I still tried reaching out to this wife, as a friend. I vented what was happening at home. I needed a friend. But she always defended his behavior. Always. She did everything but call me crazy. Until the day my husband’s crazy mistress sent a mass text message out to everyone in his phone, admitting to the affair. (I will expand on that later). After this wife received the text message, she called me crying. Saying how sorry she was that she never believed me. Telling me all the countless times I tried venting to her, only to have her shut me down. She felt terrible. SHE NEEDED my forgiveness? What the hell? I kept waiting for her to ask how I was doing. I had only learned of the affair about an hour before she received the text message so I was a mess myself. Never happened. This phone call was about HER and HER feelings and HER needs. I reminded her of the last time I tried to reach out to her and how nasty she was. OF COURSE SHE DID NOT REMEMBER! I was so used to hearing that failed memory excuse that something in me snapped. I hung up on her. And I have not spoken to her ever since. 

And the irony of all this? While this wife doted on MY husband and adored him in all his hotness and charm? While she shut me down for my fears and for all the unexplained things that my husband was doing or saying? He called her fat and bitchy when we were in the privacy of our home. He made fun of her OCD  and said how bad he felt for her husband, his buddy. I was the lucky one. The one who got to see this side of him. The side no one else saw.  He was simply too smart to risk anyone seeing this ugly, judgmental, racist side. He worked too hard to project this perfect image. 

I should go. My load of sweats are done in the dryer. 

Next time : unexplained texts and calls on my husband ‘s cell and life leading up to the affair discovery.