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When I chose to get married and have kids, I should’ve made them my first priority in all things, but instead, I let my physical needs take over my morals, and now I’ve fucked myself royally.
For that one lapse in judgment, I have paid and paid dearly. I guess it’s a good thing, though, because my wife, the real one, has made me pay for that one mistake in ways that lesser men would’ve balked at, and now I feel like a man I can be proud of. I’ve realized things about myself that would’ve gone unnoticed had my life not taken the many twists and turns it has.
I’m going on fifteen years without physical contact, twenty-three if you count the eight years my wife rejected me, minus the slip-up with Helen; damn, has it been that long? You never know what someone is living from the outside looking in, but my life has been a rollercoaster since the day I made that mistake.
I didn’t understand what Gigi was going through back then; in fact, it took years for me to get over feeling rejected. Now that I know what I saw as rejection was her own personal hell, that shit only makes me feel worse. I wasn’t there for her, didn’t think about her or the kids.
It was selfish and immoral, but you couldn’t tell me that back then. It was only after the divorce that the enormity of what I had done finally set in, and by then, it was too late. When I first told my wife about the cheating, I was ready and willing to do whatever it took to make things work if she forgave me.
But Helen had other ideas. When I told her that Gigi and I were going to work on our marriage, the sweet, biddable woman who had become my friend and an ear to listen turned into a veritable demon right in front of my eyes.
She threatened my career, which I knew would’ve made things even worse. I had four kids to put through college and a home to keep along with everything else in life. But it wasn’t just that; it was the threats against my wife and kids that made me give in in the end.
I found myself in the most fucked up situation, and had it not been for my sons, things would’ve been much worst. Helen seemed to have a hatred for Gigi and Alyssa that, to this day, I don’t understand, but she never bothered too much with the boys. Maybe because my older two had put the fear of hell in her.
I never wanted my daughter near her, but she never knew why. My poor girl thought her Daddy didn’t love her anymore, but she had no idea that if I had shown her the love I feel for her, that crazy bitch would’ve made her life a living hell. It made me wonder how many men on their second marriage were really there willingly.
That shit messed with my head for a long time, and I could see no way out. I had already lost everything, but living with the hate and self-loathing didn’t help either. I missed my family every single day, and it was only thanks to my extended family that I got to be a part of their milestones without interference from Helen, who became my warden.
Because my family rejected her, there was no way for her to intrude during those times, and since I had already given in and married her, I refused to let her take anything else from me. Though she made me pay each time I spent time with my family away from her, I was willing to put up with it because I deserved everything she did to me.
There was no one I could tell my troubles to those first four years after the divorce, and I had to put on a face each time I left the house. The times I was forced to go anywhere with Helen and her kid were hell, but I couldn’t let on because things would’ve only gotten worse.
I was dying to see Gigi, just one look, but she avoided me back then to the point that I didn’t even hear her voice on the phone for four years. That was for the best, though, because Helen always lost her shit where Gigi was concerned.
Once Trey went off to college, I did my best to shield Alyssa from Helen, but I knew the damage was already done; I saw it every time I looked at my kid. That only made my hate stronger, but I was stuck in a cycle because this was of my own doing.
I saw it as penance for fucking up the way I did just to get laid. The funny thing is that sex is about the last damn thing on my mind, or it was until lately, and that was even before the pills.
I was so traumatized after the divorce that I couldn’t even get it up if I wanted to. I became a shell of myself after losing my family. The only good thing that came out of it was that I pushed myself harder at work and rose up the ranks until I reached the highest position I could in the last couple of years.
I doubt Helen got what she wanted either, except for the status of having my name. Four years after the divorce is when I really started living again because that was when my wife let me see her for the first time. I’ll never forget that day; I can still remember it like it was yesterday.
It felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me, and I was seeing her for the first time, the way I had when we first fell in love. We talked for the first time then, and I poured my heart out with all the shame I had been carrying around since the day I broke her heart.
Imagine my surprise when she, instead of being bitter, had admitted her part in the whole ordeal. That, too, was hard for me to accept. I felt that I should’ve known that something was wrong, but men hardly ever know that these things exist. They sure as shit didn’t teach it in school.
It hurt that she felt she was in any way responsible when I was the one who had done the most damage. By then, the fact that we hadn’t been intimate in the last eight years of our marriage was no longer the big deal I had made it out to be in my mind. I would’ve taken that rejection over what my life had become any day.
But she forced me to listen and to see. She was not willing to shirk her responsibility or her part in what had become of us, and though she still hated that my answer was to cheat, she understood why. I still hate myself for that, and I hate even more that we were no longer each other’s one and only.
When I told her that Helen and I were never intimate at any time during the last four years, she found it hard to believe, but once I convinced her that my guilt and the love I still felt for her was the reason, I think that’s when she first saw hope for us.
She knew about the threats and what they meant, but we both knew we wanted to find our way back to each other. It wasn’t long before we came up with her crazy idea of living a double life.
She wasn’t quite ready to forgive me for the betrayal, and I was still pretty much in the dark about what had brought it about, her rejection, I mean. It took years of therapy and talks for me to understand that it was never about me, but that only made me feel worse.
I had neglected her and left her when she needed me most, and I couldn’t forgive myself for that. So, that took even more therapy, that and the fact that she still wasn’t whole. Because sex was the thing that broke us, I was fine going without while she worked her way toward forgiving me.
The pills helped as well because they killed any need I had for release, but my heart was right back in the game, not that it had ever left. I found a new love for my wife, a more mature one this time. There was no selfishness, and I found myself looking forward to being with her the way I did when we were young and carefree.
In therapy, we learned that she still had some issues to deal with, and then perimenopause hit, and that was a whole other chapter, but at least I was there to hold her hand through it. We came up with a whole routine between us. She went with me on almost all of my out-of-town business trips in the last ten years, something I’m still amazed we got away with, but I guess Helen had stopped caring after a while and was no longer looking over my shoulder.
We were always careful, though, even when we met for one of the kids’ achievements, and no one knew what was happening between us. By then, we had become experts at hiding our true feelings, but it didn’t make it any easier.
I think I would’ve died if she had started dating again, which was something Helen was very interested in in the beginning. She seemed to think that if my wife met someone, we would be in the clear about when that was the worst thing that could’ve happened to me. I’ll always be grateful to Gigi for that, even though I don’t deserve it.
There were plenty of men interested in her; I got to see it firsthand, but she was always a lady. Besides, she was still dealing with the issues that had come between us in the first place. Helen hated to see it as much as she wanted Gigi to move on.
