A year and a half later, things were okay. Same issues within our marriage, still feeling like I had 3 kids, not 2. Still feeling unfulfilled in many ways, yet walking on eggshells for fear that I would lose it all in a heartbeat. It wasn't my husband I was so worried about losing, it was my kids that I worried about. I had visions of being portrayed as a whore of a mom, while my husband, who was and is loved by all, looked AMAZING...hard working, good dad, good husband.
The fall of 2004, my mother asked me to take a trip with her and her husband...they take groups of people to a 3rd world country every year on a mission trip of sorts. I had never been, and didn't see having the money to do something like this anytime soon. My mom felt strongly that I experience this part of their life, and they wanted to pay for it. I cried, not sure how I could do it. Overwhelmed with the opportunity.
And it all fell into place. Within days I had my mother in law and her husband helping with the kids, my boss telling me that I would still get pain even though I didn't have vacation time, and my husband's support.
So, in June of 2005, I went. And it was amazing. To have 3 weeks without kids, responsibilities, work, a husband. I enjoyed the people, the culture, those that I traveled with. I enjoyed my parents. It was truly amazing.
I came home with a new outlook on life. I applied to go back to college. Decided that it was time to restore my relationship with God. That it was time for my kids to be raised going to church before it was too late. When I got accepted into school, despite missing every deadline under the sun, and was granted loans to cover it all, I took a leave of absence from work. And dove into student life with full gusto, determined to pursue something in the medical field.
I jumped in feet first at the church I was raised in as a child. I had been away for 10 years, and had bitter feelings regarding why I had left. Yet, I started to heal those wounds, those relationships, and before I knew it I was on several boards and committees, my kids were learning and loving it, and I felt good about life.
I turned 27 that year, and the day after my birthday I was with a friend and drove through a neighborhood in her town...there were new houses, and several were for sale. I looked at her and said "that is my house" as we slowed down to look at one. I showed my husband the house that night, and within 31 days we had sold our first house, and moved. Our son seamlessly changed schools, and we were settled in.
You would think, that at this point, I would be content. I had it all going on. Life looked so good. And yet I felt so empty. School was frustrating...I couldn't get into college level math for the life of me. I could plow my way through all of my other courses with minimal effort, yet would want to cry during math.
My husband wasn't cutting it at our workplace with me being gone. Things were slipping. I started to help out here and there again, even though I was taking a full class load. We had a group of employees at the time that were really into partying, and they became real chummy with my husband. It made me nervous, but then I thought, hell, they are adults, so what if they aren't 21. Most people drink before they are 21. If they come to our house, as long as we aren't buying the alcohol, and no one drives drunk, it is fine, right?
It wasn't often, but when we did have this group over, it was a blast. I had missed that "party" aspect that we had with our friendship with Shane and Nicole. Yet, this was better. It was appropriate for the most part. These were good people. The only thing that made me nervous was one employee was a hard core weed dealer. And we wouldn't have them over if our kids were home, but when the kids went to see grandma, it was cool for them to party at our house. And there was a bit of weed smoking, and for the first time in my life I tried it.
One of these evenings, in May of 2006, an 18 year old employee needed more smokes and asked me to take him to the store. I agreed, I was fine to drive. Nick and I had flirted at parties before, I was close with his older sister. She was pregnant at the time, and I was supporting her in many ways...their mother had died just months earlier of cancer. Out of the 4 kids in this family, 3 worked for me at some point or another.
Nick and I were almost back to my house when he, rather bossily, told me to pull over. And to get in the back seat. I did it, not really giving a fuck, and not really thinking anything would happen. Once again, I felt like I had put time, energy, and hard work into my marriage, only to again be disappointed and not met halfway.
I got in the back seat, and rather aggressively Nick initiated sex with me. At one point it felt forced, yet I didn't try to stop it. We went back home after that, no one had even noticed that we were gone.
From there began, yet another, extramarital relationship. Have you lost count yet? It wasn't serious, it wasn't emotional, it was very physical. Yet, for me, it wasn't that physically satisfying.
We would get together maybe 3 times a month, and our routine consisted of getting a hotel room, drinking, smoking, having sex, and sometimes we would sober up enough to go shopping. Our meetings were lengthy...sometimes 8 hours or so. There were a few days that my husband and kids were out of town and he stayed with me. I spent money on this young thing like no other. Clothes, rent money, whatever he needed. It was such a fucked up relationship. I was gaining NOTHING from it other than feeling desired, if only for the wrong reasons. I mean, really? I should have been more honest with myself. Here was this young, good looking, funny kid screwing around with his married, chunky, intimacy deprived boss. REALLY.
He had joked with my husband (who had no clue about the affair) about having a threesome with us. He was at our house one evening, and had smoked some weed with my husband. I wasn't keen on my husband doing this, yet I had a little too. I fell asleep on the couch, and while in and out of consciousness heard them joking in a rather juvenile manner about how they should tag team me, or something like that.
And wouldn't you know it, the three of us ended up in our bed, messing around. My husband watched him fuck me. Nick commented on the size of my husband's cock several times, and to this day I wonder if he might be bisexual. And we all slept together that night, and in the morning my husband left Nick and I in our bed together when he left for work.
In my heart, I knew after this incident, that my husband had no qualms about seeing me with another man. He didn't seem particularly into it, but not opposed either. While I had known for a long time that he would never have the balls to stick up for me in any given situation, he also didn't have the balls to defend what was rightfully his. To have some fight. This wasn't the first time, and there were no excuses. It was immature, he was immature. I wanted to feel loved, cared for, and desired. There was kind of a "high five, we scored" camaraderie between my husband and Nick for awhile, and I hated it. Yet I continued my sugar momma relationship with Nick.
It lasted through the summer, and come the end of August of 2006, I ended it. First of all, I couldn't AFFORD to maintain this relationship. I used a credit card for all of it, to the tune of $10,000 when it was said and done. Second, I knew I was being used. I also needed to work, and couldn't be his boss in an involved sense and be screwing him. I had decided to taper off going to school, I wasn't convinced of the medical field anymore, and felt that I was aimlessly acquiring student loans without a goal. Lastly, I needed major surgery, and it was as good of a time as any to halt this catastrophe. So I did. And within days, he quit working for us. It was for the best. I stopped allowing parties at our house. We essentially cleaned house...this group of unmotivated, partying youngsters was not conducive to a good business. No one was fired without warrant, it was more about tightening the reigns and those who weren't on board left.
To this day, my husband has no clue about my relationship with Nick, except for the incident that he was a part of.
I had surgery, and began to spend time with people from church. I broadened my circle. I got to know my pastor. I got to be friends with the intern pastor of our church. We did things like spend New Years with church families playing games, and had people from church over for dinner. I increased my volunteer work.
I swore this was it. I could not keep doing this. The lies...how bad I felt about myself. I vowed that no batter how alone I felt within my marriage, that I owed it to my kids to do this right. And keep it right.