look i’m just gonna say it upfront: infidelity discussion is the one conversation everybody pretends they’re above until they’re knee-deep in it and realize they’re not
i cheated. like actually did it. not the emotional “we just talked too much” bullshit, actual sex in a 2012 honda odyssey that still had goldfish crackers crushed in the seats. i’m 36, live in suburban ohio, have two kids and a costco membership and i still did that. the shame tastes like metal in my mouth when i think about it which is basically every day
why my infidelity discussion always circles back to that fucking minivan
it was raining. like that cliché pouring rain that makes you feel like the universe is judging you personally. justin (yeah i’m using his real name because fuck him too) worked third shift at the warehouse with me. he had this stupid little dimple and kept bringing me monster energy drinks when i was dead on my feet. my husband was home with our toddler who wouldn’t stop screaming and i just… wanted five minutes where someone looked at me like i wasn’t a human juice box
so i let him finger me in the meijer parking lot while christmas music played on the radio. “all i want for christmas is you” specifically. the irony makes me want to puke when mariah carey comes on now
the lies i told myself (they were so dumb)
- “it’s just physical” (girl you cried when he said your name)
- “my marriage is basically over” (we literally had sex the week before??)
- “i’ll never do it again” (did it six more times)
- “he’ll never find out” (he found the target receipt for plan b in my purse because i’m a disaster)
i swear every cheater says the same five lines. esther perel calls it the “script” in her book Mating in Captivity and reading that felt like getting slapped by someone who could see straight through my skull
when the infidelity discussion actually happened with my husband
he didn’t yell. that was the worst part. he just looked at me holding that little white receipt and said “were you ever gonna tell me or was i supposed to keep being the idiot who packs your lunch” and i had nothing. literally nothing. my mouth opened and closed like a goldfish
i tried to hug him and he flinched so hard i still feel it in my bones
there’s this article on Gottman’s blog about affairs that says the betrayed partner needs “full disclosure” and i laughed when i first read it because who the hell wants full disclosure?? turns out he did. every disgusting detail. we did the whole thing where i wrote a timeline and cried through all nine pages. brutal.
trying to fix the unfixable (still trying)
we’re in therapy. the therapist keeps saying “trust is a choice you make every day” and i want to scream because some days i don’t even trust myself to pick the right cereal
he sleeps on the couch now. i pretend not to notice he moved his pillow back to our bed last week but hasn’t actually laid down in it yet. progress? maybe? who knows
what i know for sure now:
- the “affair fog” is real and it makes you the dumbest version of yourself (science even backs this up, dopamine + secrecy = temporary insanity)
- coming clean feels like ripping your own skin off but lying is worse
- some people forgive and some people leave and both are valid
- i miss who i was before i became someone who could do this
if you’re sitting there reading this with someone else’s name in your phone under “sarah from work” or whatever… delete it. block them. go touch grass. the rush isn’t worth becoming someone you hate in the mirror
or read this first: this brutal reddit thread from the betrayed side because that’s what you’re actually doing to someone who loves you
