This isn’t a post designed to solicit sympathy or anything like that. I was told years ago that doing something like this would be cathartic, and now seems like a good time.
I’ve been lurking here long enough to know that my experience pales in comparison to those of some members here, so what follows is just me getting things off my chest.
I first got together with my wife, lets call her Melissa, while we were at school, aged 16. She had had a couple of non-serious boyfriends before, but she was my first girlfriend. We lost our virginity to each other, which may be TMI, but to me at least, it was important.
We were deeply in love, and stayed together despite attending different universities. We bought a house together, and we married a few years later in 2001.
Things were pretty good. A couple of years into the marriage we bought a bigger house with the intention of one day starting a family. But the stress of buying a house started to manifest itself in Melissa in some worrying ways. She was signed off work and placed on very strong anti-depressants by her doctor.
At this point she struck up a mildly concerning online relationship with some stranger. She would go on and on about him to me, but I put up with it because she’s my wife, right? And besides, this guy lives miles away.
I guess I should have seen the warning signs… Her instantly minimising a window on the PC if I suddenly walked into the room etc. It turns out that this guy is a Doctor, and is also off work at the moment with stress.
So Christmas comes and goes, she shows no sign of wanting to get back to work. She disappeared for well over an hour at the New Year party. I found out later that she was on the phone to her boyfriend. I also found out later that she had been phoning him every single day, running up a massive phone bill.
Then she tells me that they have arranged to meet. Their plan is to meet at a huge shopping centre about 100 miles away. She tells me that this is something she “must” do. Like a fool I trust her, and I let her go. January 17th, 2004. I told her not to get in a car with him, or go anywhere other than the shopping centre.
She does exactly the opposite. They get in our car, drive out to the country, and he fucks her in the passenger seat. Of our car. She told me that a couple of motorcyclists drove by, stopped, and came back to watch.
I found all of this out when she confessed the following day.
I knew pretty much straight away that I had to fix things. I made her promise me that she would not contact him ever again. I took her phone away from her, and deleted her email and messaging accounts, then locked the computer down. I fairness to her, she complied and I do believe she never had any contact with him again.
Now the bomb shell, because up until now, this story sounds no worse than most other people’s. The bloke who fucked my wife, was not signed of work with stress, he was suspended by the UK’s General Medical Council because he was a convicted peodophile. He had been found with 77 indecent images of children aged between 4 and 14, some of which included images of penetrative sex. It makes me sick just writing it.
Melissa knew about this before she met him. This is all easily Google-able, and if I were to tell you his name you could find it in a second. Hell, you can probably find it without his name.
So we spend the next year or so in counselling, and mostly due to me, we rebuild our broken marriage. We found help amongst the few friends we told about this, not least from our closest friends, let’s call them Harry and June.
We were lucky enough to have a beautiful baby girl 4 years later. She is now 5 years old - the most beautiful little thing I could ever have hoped to have in my life (whilst still occasionally driving me up the wall!)
Things were never the same again between Melissa and I though. After a period of rebuilding, things were not too bad, but the resentment was always there, the trust never fully recovered.
Fast forward to a year and a half ago. Harry decides to have some kind of breakdown and leaves June for some young tart. June is devastated, obviously. Knowing what I went through was fairly similar, she turns to me for support. Over the period of about a year, we met for drinks 4 times, purely as friends. The 5th time, I took the plunge and kissed her.
I had reached a point where I knew my marriage was over. I didn’t have it within me to rebuild things again. I knew I was deeply in love with June too. Luckily she felt the same about me. This was 5 months ago. We have both found some self respect in each other that had been taken from us. It’s good to start over.
My daughter is very happy. Obviously June is not a stranger to her, which makes things easier. Melissa is dealing with things well… We are still friends, although it is strained at times.
There you have it.
I wanted to get that off my chest. I’m not fishing for sympathy, or anything really, but I’m happy to answer questions… Maybe reading this will help someone else who is going through something similar. I also know that you guys won’t hold back with your opinions, good and bad. So although i hope most of you won’t, feel free to call me a pathetic loser - that’s exactly what I felt like for so long. Until just recently, of course.
tl;dr: Naive bloke who married too young got shafted by his wife when she fucked a convicted peodophile. Things going well nine years later.