Dear husband,
Why the fuck did you have to go there tonight? Really, why did you fucking have to?!?! “It’s my buddy’s bachelor party. Do you really want me to miss it?” you said. Like that somehow makes this all right. Like that somehow makes ME the bad guy here for being pissed that you went to this damn club. It’s not like my hatred for strip clubs is totally unfounded.
About a year ago, not two weeks before our wedding I sat at home 7 months pregnant big as a house, insecure as all hell to begin with while you and your “buddies” went to a strip club for your very own bachelor party. Everyone assured me that it was “no big deal.” “Guys go to these things all the time,” they said. “It means nothing.” Well last time I checked what you did while you were there was far from “no big deal.” And while it may have meant nothing to you it sure as hell meant a lot to me.
It was bad enough that you got a private lap lance. But it was something that I agreed to ahead of time. I tried to be that “cool fiancé” so assured that it all “means nothing and is no big deal.” I was upset when you went but I thought that a simple lap dance was as far as it would go. A 5- minute little show then you’d be coming back to me, never to happen again. But no, it was WAY more than a little 5 minute show. “I was drunk,” you said. “It meant nothing,” you said.
So it meant nothing when she kissed you. It meant nothing when she stuck her nipple in your mouth. Her NIPPLE!!! It meant nothing when she rode your crotch for over twenty damn minutes and made you cum! It meant nothing when she offered to take you to a private room and fuck you! Thank God you said no to that offer or I would have dumped your ass right then and there - wedding or no wedding, baby or no baby.
I’m glad you felt better after you told me what happened. I’m glad that your guilty conscience was relieved of its guilt. How did it feel to look down at me hysterically crying that night? How did it feel to hear me tell you you cheated on me that night? How the fuck would you have handled it if you found out that I had kissed some stripper, stuck my nipple in his mouth, and then grinded up against HIS crotch until I came?? Oh, no, I couldn’t have done that for my bachelorette party. You see strip clubs don’t take to kindly to huge pregnant women coming in to oogle the men.
So now this brings us back to tonight. You’re out again at yet another strip club with another group of buddies for another bachelor party. I told you how much I hated that you wanted to go. I hate it with every fiber of my being. I hate that men can go to these places, walk in the front door, and they are somehow absolved of all guilt. Somehow strip club + lots of booze + bachelor party = a license to cheat.
Now I know that I’m not your keeper. You don’t need my permission to do anything or go anywhere. Our relationship does not now and will not ever work like that. So telling you that you couldn’t go tonight didn’t even cross my mind. What I want to know is why you went, knowing our history. This place is even sleazier than the last one so who know what the hell they allow to happen there. Having a few beers in you was somehow enough of a justification then for what you did less than two weeks before our fucking wedding!!
I want to trust you so badly and I do, normally. Other than that one night I have never had any reason not to trust you. You even told me what happened afterward. You knew how much it would hurt me, but you knew that you had to be honest with me. I thank you for that. Really, I do. Just please, I’m begging you, stay away from these damn strip clubs.
Love,
Wife