ASHLEY MADISON

My husband and I continued to have very infrequent, unsatisfying sex. He seemed to think that because he could give great oral sex, that he was off the hook. Oral sex has it's time and place, but I like me some cock. And some cock that LASTS. Finally, I snapped. Fuck it. I had, again, tried for 2 years. He had his business, a house that he loved in a town with his relatives either in it or nearby, sons that adore him, a clean house, a wife that thinks that swallowing cum is right up there with getting a pedicure, and I WAS TRYING.

I had watched an episode of Dr. Phil at some point that talked about Ashley Madison...a web site for married people looking to have an affair. And in the fall of 2008, I checked it out. It is free if you are a female, and I thought, what the hell. What did I have to lose?

I told my old friend Fran about it...she had left her husband, and was continuing an on again off again relationship with a married man. He had recently hid the fact that his wife was pregnant from her, and had been telling her that he had left her and was getting divorced. This alone is worthy of a blog post at some point. Fran and I both set up profiles. I used my real first name, was honest about my height and weight, and was vague about my home situation.

You could type all kinds of things about yourself, yet, I didn't want to. I had messages from guys within minutes. Most were gross. Cock shots, old guys, creepy guys. Yuck. And then, Adrien messaged me.

His profile picture was him sitting on a nice motorcycle, shirtless. The man had a body like none I had seen in real life. He seemed nice, lived in the area, and told me about his boring, "vanilla" relationship with his girlfriend of 5 years. He was a reserve cop, owned his own business, and seemed normal. And nice. And thought that his girlfriend was too skinny and he hated her fake boobs. I sent him a picture, and he went on and on about how I was just perfect. How could I, a sex deprived, pissed at her husband, constantly horny chic say NO to THAT?

We corresponded for a couple of weeks, and agreed to meet at a bar. In the lobby. Of a hotel. He said that he was booking a room, but no pressure, we would just talk and get to know each other. I was oddly calm when I went to meet him. I mean, cops are safe, right? I had no guilt, no hesitations. Fran knew where I was, I wasn't worried that this was dangerous. I had this new IT IS TIME TO TAKE CARE OF ME attitude, and that was what I was going to do.

I arrived early, and ordered a drink. He walked in right on time. I couldn't decide if he was attractive or not. I decided later that he wasn't. He wasn't tall...my height, but his spiky hair gave him an extra inch. His jeans were tight, and his shirt was too. He was very into his body, it was evident. Metro-sexual was a safe way to describe him, yet I am sure he looked downright gay to some people. And not that I have a problem with that...but...well, it was a bit much.

He ordered a drink, and some food, and we talked. He grabbed my hand and stroked it throughout much of the conversation. There was no doubt that he knew what he was doing. He had done this before. He told me about the numerous affairs he had, how boring his girlfriend was in bed, how restless he was. After a few drinks, I went to the hotel room with him. I could vomit right now thinking about how fucking smooth he was. He was almost CREEPY in the way he gushed over my body, using almost a baby voice. We had sex a few times, it sucked. It was very surreal. Yet, I left giddy, because it was sex, and he was a man, and he was nice. Sad, right?

A few days later Fran called, and was freaking out. Adrien had CONTACTED HER on Ashley Madison! She knew it was him from my description! She ignored his message and called me right away. I called him out on it. He laughed, acted like it wasn't a big deal. Said that he was going to take his profile down, that he was just bored at work one day and messaged some girls. I should have walked away right then.

We kept in contact, and a couple weeks later I went to his house in the morning before work. He met me at the door in a bathrobe, and we proceeded to have sex. Now, he was a talker in bed, and I like that. Yet, on this day, he took it to another level. He began referring to himself as DADDY. Does DADDY'S LITTLE GIRL LIKE THAT? DADDY'S LITTLE GIRL FEELS SO GOOD. I was shocked. Was this what he meant by NON-VANILLA? He had told me he wanted NON-VANILLA sex. Was this IT? I admit fault. I didn't tell him to stop. Yet, I didn't get into it either. I stayed neutral. And was very creeped out by the whole thing.

When I told Fran, she had a hay day with it...calling me and leaving me messages in a baby girl voice...asking where her daddy was. Anyone else would have been dead, yet it was hilarious from her. After this encounter Adrien told me that he was not going to be able to see me for awhile, that he was having issues with his girlfriend and needed to lay low. He essentially needed her to stay with him while he was in the process of building a new home. Jerk. Apparently someone that he had slept with contacted his girlfriend on Myspace and told her that Adrien was a cheater, that he met women on Ashley Madison, etc.

During this down time, I checked my Ashley Madison account occasionally. It was my busy time at work, so I didn't have a ton of down time, but still...things at home were still crappy. A guy named Codey contacted me, and we began chatting. Texting. He seemed really nice. Was in a horrible marriage to an alcoholic that refused to have kids, and he wanted kids really bad. The initial picture he sent to me was good...he looked older to me, but I liked that. He looked kind. I was not much of a stalker, but I looked him up online.

First I found that he had lied to me about his age, he had said he was 39, and was really 44. And his name wasn't really Codey. I confronted him on it, and he got SO MAD. He wanted to know how I knew this. It became apparent really fast that he wasn't savvy to the internet and all that it has to offer. When I reassured him that I had not found his wife, and was not doing anything to compromise his marriage, he calmed down. And I agreed to meet him for a drink.

The day that we were to meet, he asked if I wanted to stop by his work and see him before we met for drinks. So I did. When I saw him walking towards me, my stomach dropped. He looked NOTHING like the pictures. The pictures had to have been really cropped, really old, or something. He approached my vehicle...he was very tall. And had a CREEPY resemblance to my biological father. And I couldn't get past it. He was also awkward. I found nothing about him attractive. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, I met him for drinks later that day. He had several, I had one. Carrying a conversation with him was like pulling teeth. Impossible. It was strained. When he got up to use the bathroom, I texted Fran and requested a bail out call. She called within minutes, and I faked a work issue. The bill came, and I offered to pay, and HE LET ME. WHAT THE HELL? REALLY? THEN, he had the audacity to tell me that he was bummed that I had to leave, because he had parked his truck in a secluded spot and wanted to MAKE OUT. Wow. Hell fucking NO. I said, thanks but no thanks, and he asked for a hug. I manged that. And I left... Later that night I sent him an email, apologizing for not being interested in him, and said that I didn't see anything working out with us. He gave me some lame answer about how you never really know someone until after a few dates, and to that I said that it didn't matter how long I knew him, he would still look like my father, and I would never get past that. Ew. So...we cut ties nicely, he understood, and that was that.

I cancelled my Ashley Madison account. And shortly after heard from Adrien again. He wanted to meet up. At a hotel. Why not? So I agreed. It was weird...he broke out more DADDY talk while having sex, yet also wanted to tell me his entire family history. He knew nothing about my life or kids, or my marriage. He didn't seem interested. He had a vasectomy in his early twenties because kids were not in his plans, and my kids are my world. We could not relate to each other in this way. Yet, from a business standpoint, we were on the same page. So it was a manageable evening. When it was over, he left, and I showered and got dressed.

While driving home I got a call from Nick's sister, asking if I wanted to meet her at a bar...she was there with friends and family, and was missing me. I asked if Nick was there, and she said yes. She sensed my hesitation, and assured me it would be fun. So I agreed.

I arrived at this total dive bar that I hadn't been to in years. I was great to see Nick's sister, her boyfriend, her aunt, etc. And out of nowhere, there is Nick. I looked at him, and he looked at me. And we walked over to each other and hugged each other. We went outside to smoke a cigarette together, and had a decent conversation. It was if nothing had happened. Two years had passed since I had seen him. And in an odd way, it was healing for me. I have resentment towards him (and myself) for the whole situation, yet, it was healing.

Ironically, he saved my ass that night. I drank too much on an empty stomach and a prescription that shouldn't have been mixed with alcohol, and for the first time ever, I remembered nothing. Apparently I told him I couldn't drive, and he took me home. And apparently, after getting me home, he stayed up drinking (more) with my husband, and catching up with him. And he stayed the night at our house.

The next morning was chaos, I was late to work, he needed a ride home. I got ready, and took him to his sister's house. The car ride was odd...we chatted like normal. Like nothing had ever happened. I was weirded out by the whole thing...yet, I knew that I had closed that chapter, the chapter of Nick, in my life for good. And I knew that the Adrien chapter needed closed as well. I never saw him after that...it's funny how you can ignore one call from someone and they get it. They move on to their next prey. Like you never mattered, never existed...

WEIGHT LOSS AND OTHER HEALTH ISSUES

When I attended my 10 year high school reunion during the summer of 2007, I was horrified to see the pictures. I HATED HOW I LOOKED. I HATED THAT I WAS WITH MY TWO BEST FRIENDS FROM CHILDHOOD, AND FELT MORE FAT AND MORE UGLY THAN EVER.

And I realized, that I had been in denial. I thought that because I could keep up with my kids, that I was fine. That because I could work at a job that becomes extremely physically demanding during parts of the year, that I was fine. I thought because men would ask me to dance if I was out at a club, that I was fine. That because I was often complimented or told I was pretty, I was fine. And yet I wasn't. I started to get real.

I had not owned a scale in years. If that isn't denial, I don't know what is. I bought one. I was the heaviest I had ever been. And in 3 years, I had gained 30 pounds. I stopped fucking around with fad diets. I have done them all. I had a 20 pound range, and EVERY fad diet could get 20 pounds off. And they would come right back on.

It pissed me off that I looked so much better that summer that we began hanging out with Shane and Nicole...and I had recently had a baby! I was not thin, and have not been since my early teens. I am naturally curvy, even at my smallest. And now I had just stopped caring, and hadn't cared in years.

And so I started. Quietly. One thing I have learned is that if I blab about wanting to lose weight, it backfires. Friends can be sabotaging. My husband can be sabotaging. After our job changes in 2003, he gained about 40 pounds. And I thought he looked great. I liked him thicker. Shortly after that, he began working out and lost the weight, and became almost obsessed with it. And to this day, continues to be. I think he is too thin, and that has lessened my attraction to him, but that is another story. Yet, he isn't always the healthiest eater, and that was hard for me too.

I made small changes...Starbucks was fine, but it had to be nonfat milk. I stopped my horrible habit of not eating all day, and then eating a lot at night. I stopped allowing myself to eat differently than what I was feeding my kids...I would always make sure they were eating right, but would eat something different more often than not. And without much effort, I lost weight. Not a ton, but enough that I felt better.

We bought our business in May of 2008, and my husband took over running the new business full time, while I stayed at our previous work place part time. It made the most sense for a number of reasons. He eventually went to a doctor, who told him it was in his head, but gave him some sort of erection pills. I was pissed. I told my husband that he needed to get to the bottom of his issues, that I refused to have sex with someone that required drugs because IT WAS IN THEIR HEAD. He wasn't even 30 when this started! We aren't talking about a grandpa here.

In August of 2008 I had a health scare. I had two lumps on the back of my head that appeared out of nowhere. And CT scans, numerous doctors, and test after test deemed them suspiciously large lymph nodes. And the word cancer was mentioned. And I FREAKED OUT.

I spent night after restless night researching...I had copies of my CT scan, and I analyzed my head like I knew what I was looking at. I was told I needed to have them surgically removed, and although I had 3 previous surgeries under my belt, this was by far the scariest. This was my HEAD.

Every other thing that I read on the online mentioned Lymphoma. And every other thing regarding Lymphoma mentioned H.I.V. / A.I.D.S. I had flashbacks of unprotected sex with Nick...and panicked.

I had the lymph nodes removed, and waited a week to be told that they were non cancerous. My husband sweetly took care of me while I recovered, and while helping me wash my hair the day after surgery, gently held me while I cried over the chunk of hair that had been shaved in the operating room. And within 2 weeks, I was fine, and we were back to our same old relationship. Like I said, he is sweet...and has really good things about him. Yet, there we were, sexless and co-existing again.

The H.I.V. / A.I.D.S. thing still bounced around in my head. I made an appointment at Planned Parenthood, not wanting to ask for tests of that nature from my regular doctor. I sat their in the waiting room, feeling out of place with those around me. I was once 17 and wanting to get on the pill. Yet...I felt stupid. I wasn't 17. I was 29. I was married. I had children. I went to church. And here I was, SNEAKING AROUND, asking for this and that test, and NOT USING MY REAL NAME. Asking for anonymous tests. What the hell? And as I looked at a young couple leaving, knowing full well that the girl must have just had an abortion, I was judgemental. I was judgemental towards Planned Parenthood for even PERFORMING abortions. Being there was against my beliefs. As I high school student, I chose to go to the HEALTH DEPARTMENT for birth control, because they didn't kill babies. And yet, here I was.

I scurried out of there with my clean bill of health (thanking God the entire time), and began to think about my rapidly approaching 30th birthday...and I began to panic. I had knocked out my 20's in the blink of an eye, and had so much to be thankful for, yet so much to be ashamed of.

STILL GRASPING...IN DIFFERENT WAYS

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.

GRASPING...FOR ANYTHING...

After Office Manager, and after my youngest was born, things were hard. I had serious complications post c-section, was essentially fighting numerous infections and in pain for months afterwards. It is worth noting that I began having anxiety issues, and was put on an anti anxiety med that is notorious for causing a low libido. And while it definitely had that effect on me, it probably just took my really high sex drive down to a level that would be normal for a mom that was working part time and balancing it all.

Things were the same with my husband and I...the same infrequent, methodical sex. The same co-existing. We were, and are, great parents together. Great at running a household. Great at being roommates.

That summer, when our baby was 6 months old, we started hanging out with a friend of my husbands from high school, and his wife and kids. They had bought a home down the road from ours, and I had resisted spending time with them prior to that summer. I finally realized that it wouldn't kill me to be social with this couple (we'll call them Shane and Nicole), and so when we were invited to spend the 4th of July at their house, we agreed.

Now would be a good time to mention that I was not into drinking. I had drank a few times in high school, and while I liked the feeling of being drunk, I wasn't crazy about it. My mother had scared the shit out of me with stories of my biological father and addiction issues, so having sex was my rebellion of choice as a teen. My 21st birthday was spent with my family, where I gagged down half of a wine cooler after my mom all but forced me to do so.

We arrived at Shane and Nicole's house on the 4th, where there were a few other couples. We fussed over each other's kids in their house that was trashed (messy houses make me nervous). Nicole and I scoped each other out...we had only spent a small of time together, and it was always because of our husbands. She offered me a drink, and I thought WHAT THE HELL...and said yes.

It was great. It was so great. A few drinks, and I DIDN'T CARE. My baby was asleep, my preschooler was being entertained by the older kids, and it was grand. Nicole and I had great conversations, watched the men shoot off fireworks, and by the end of the night we were out on the street "pole dancing" on the street lamp.

This began a year long trend. At least once a week we would drink and hang out with Shane and Nicole. There was another friend of our husbands, Bob, that would hang out with us too. The three men had been friends all through high school, Shane and Bob were both in our wedding, and we all had a great time.

Things got a bit too comfy after awhile...after our kids were asleep, Nicole and I LOVED TO DANCE. It started with us dancing together...I am sure we looked stupid. She was thin, kind of white trash looking...not super smart...had dropped out of high school when she was 16 and pregnant. She dressed like a teenager, crop tops, and a playboy bunny belly button ring. We both had confessed bisexual experiences that we had in our younger years to each other, and had no qualms about being touchy with each other...especially since it was evident that the husbands liked it. Sometimes we would dance with each other's husbands...she liked "teaching" my husband, and I liked that her husband and I seemed to mesh well together.

One night, I was all but passed out on their living room floor. It wasn't uncommon for us to stay the night there, and go home in the morning. I didn't like that we were doing that with our kids, but they were young, there were plenty of beds and cribs at their house (they often watched their niece and nephew), and it seemed okay. That night, I was laying on the floor, and my husband lifted up my shirt, moved my bra, and placed a Cheez It cracker on each nipple. And ate them off. While Shane and Nicole watched.

I became aware of this, yet laid there smiling with my eyes closed. And didn't object when my husband dared Nicole to do the same thing to me. And she did. And then Shane did. And before I knew it, Shane and Nicole were messing around, and my husband and I were too. At one point, Shane said that we should go upstairs, that we wouldn't want to be on the living room floor like that if one of the kids woke up. So all four of us went into their guest room, and resumed what we were doing with our spouses. We were all on the floor...us girls on our backs with our husbands on top of us. And soon it was full fledged, same room sex. And, in hindsight, it was pretty hot. I have such negative connotations with this event, yet, it was hot.

At some point, I reached over and touched Nicole's breasts. She did the same to me. And at some point, the men switched places. Shane was on top of me, and I looked over and saw my husband penetrating Nicole. For a second, for one second, I had a wave of insecurities wash over me. What if her tight, toned, small frame was more attractive to him? What if he really enjoyed this? And then I looked up to see Shane REALLY enjoying himself, and having no shame in making it known. Funny...I hadn't really noticed him entering me...for such a big guy, he had the smallest penis that I had ever seen on a grown man. I remember thinking that I liked my own two fingers better. How bad is THAT?

At one point, he was obviously enjoying my breasts (Nicole's body rivaled that of a teenage boy), and said something about how tight I felt. I looked over and thought that if looks could kill he would have died on top of me. I began to wonder if vaginal births really make a big difference...I had two c-sections, she had pushed 3 babies out of her. And while I was wondering, everything ended. I don't think either one of us girls came.

My husband and I left for the coast that next day (this was August 2002), and were both almost giddy about our swapping experience. We laughed about it for days. And when we came back into town, Shane called us and said that we should probably distance ourselves for a few weeks...Nicole was MAD at him for the whole situation, and mad that he had seemed to enjoy being with me.

Not being one to let sleeping dogs lie, I called her. And apologized, and we talked it out. By the end of the conversation we were joking about it, and all was well.

Nicole and I became closer and closer, actually hanging out without the men...taking the kids on outings. Our kids loved each other, and we loved each other's kids. We changed diapers for each other, babysat for each other, she would have me for dinner when she made something special and wanted me to try it...knowing that I was home with my kids since my husband worked nights.

That winter, Nicole confided in me that she had a huge crush on Bob, the third friend. Bob was single, successful, and very attractive. I had a brother/sister relationship with him...we were comfortable around each other.

I didn't discourage her feelings, just listened. And when it was Mardi Gras, she asked if I wanted to go out with her dancing. I agreed. It was then that she told me that Bob was coming too, and not to tell my husband or Shane.

We went to a local club, and had a BLAST. I felt like a 24 year old, not a MOM. We danced, collected beads (which, sometimes required boob flashing the DJ), and it was then that she introduced me to my mixed drink of choice...Tokyo Tea. It was FABULOUS. I turned a blind eye when Bob and Nicole started messing around, and was just high on the experience. I had never done anything like this before. The dancing, the music, the people. I loved it! I realized that night, that I am fun. That I am attractive. That I was more than a mom with a clean house and well behaved children. I finally understood what I had possibly missed out on by being on the path that I was on. Here I was with people my age, and most went home to...well, most likely not laundry and kids and husbands that didn't notice them.

Bob and Nicole began a heated affair. Nicole LOVED showing me lingerie that she bought for him, loved telling me about their sex. Shane became suspicious, and I protected Nicole. And when my husband drove by their house at 5 am one morning on his way home from work, and saw Bob's truck there, and knew that Shane was at work, well, shit hit the fan.

My husband told Shane what he had seen, and it all collapsed. Nicole moved out, Shane and my husband began giving Bob a really hard time. Showed up at his house trying to be all thug like, convinced me to type a letter that they dictated and sent anonymously to Bob's mother (with whom he lived with) about the situation. I was walking a fine line...afraid to side with Nicole for fear that my husband would revisit my previous indiscretion. I didn't want to lose Nicole as a friend. I didn't know what to do.

And when Shane called me at 3 am one morning, crying, and drunk, and just so sad, I agreed that he could walk over to my house. Nicole had moved into her own apartment, and he didn't have his kids that night. He arrived, and I was still in bed. He came upstairs, and sat on the edge of the bed sobbing. We talked...he was just blubbering about everything and anything. Bob was one of his best friends. Bob was in his wedding. How could this happen?

And then he turned, and kissed me. And kissed me more. And then looked at me, and said "It isn't like we haven't done this before, right?" And proceeded to have sex with me. And I didn't protest. After 2 1/2 years since the Office Manager, and after 2 1/2 years of "recommitted", listless sex with my husband, I caved. Easily. Angry, revenge sex from a drunk, hairy, chunky guy seemed better than what I was getting. Never mind his small dick.

And so it began, I was back at it. This was easier though. Shane was struggling to balance single parenting when he had the kids. He would ask for help with this or that. He wanted to redecorate a bathroom in their house, wanted my opinion on paint colors. He needed help shopping for his girls. He was needy. And so was I.

I would spend evenings over at his house...I would do housework, cook sometimes, help with the kids. My husband thought nothing of it, why should he? When Shane was sick once, I took my oldest to preschool, and went to his house with cold medicine and Starbucks while my husband was home sleeping after working all night.

I could see this making sense. Shane could too. We got along great, had occasional sex when we could finagle it, and his kids were like my own. For Fathers Day that year, I took his kids and took dozens of pictures of them, and framed a collage for him. And then I had the kids make cards with their hand prints dipped in paint, and when he opened the gifts he cried and told me that Nicole would have never done something so thoughtful. We occasionally talked about what it would be like if this was our life, yet neither one of us could bear the thought of doing that to my husband. And while my fake life as mom of 5 was fun, and fulfilling, it was fake. It wasn't my life. Those kids were like my own, and their mother wasn't that great of a mom. Yet, it wasn't my life.

That August (2003), Nicole called me crying one morning. Bob's dad had killed himself, and his step mom. And Bob was a wreck. Bob hadn't spoken to my husband or Shane since the whole affair with Nicole was discovered, and he was still seeing Nicole. I convinced my husband and Shane that going to the funeral for Bob's dad was the right thing to do. Nicole could not go, she knew that she would be shunned by Bob's mother who knew about the relationship.

We arrived at the funeral, Bob shook hands with my husband, refused to look at Shane, and clung to me for dear life. My heart broke for him. I wanted to hold him and never let go. I related to him on so many levels. Shane was so angry with him, yet was doing the same thing to my husband. It was a huge fucking mess. The funeral was awful...someone that has committed a murder / suicide is usually not one to have tons of people singing their praises at their funeral. It was weird. I sat between my husband and Shane, and had a hand on each of them as they struggled through the service. My husband isn't a crier, but Shane lost it completely. After the funeral Bob talked to me, about gory crime scene details that I will never forget, and ignored my husband and Shane. At one point Bob's mom gave me a DEATH look, and I asked my husband to please introduce me to her and make sure she knew that I wasn't Nicole. He obliged. The death looks stopped when she realized I wasn't the one screwing her baby boy.

Later that August, my husband and I were headed out for our yearly week at the coast, and we decided to invite Shane and his kids. It had been a rough few weeks for all of us. We were staying in a large house, and figured, why not? The 5 kids were ecstatic, and we were too. Shane's birthday was that week, as was my husbands, and we thought it would be a great way to celebrate.

We spent the days on the beach, or doing fun things with the kids. And at night, we would drink and hang out. And on one of those evenings, a conversation about sex started. Keep in mind that Shane and I had this secret side relationship going on. My husband told Shane that he wished he was better at oral sex, and Shane offered to give him some pointers if I was cool with it. My husband agreed.

We went into the bedroom, and I figured, why not? It wasn't like we hadn't had something like this happen before. I laid there, and giggled as Shane told my husband about this and that. And then I had an absolutely mind blowing orgasm. I knew Shane was capable of this, yet, this was much more intense. Was it because my husband was watching? Possibly.

And then, it was my husband's turn. And he got it! Mad skills! It was great!

Shortly after this week long getaway, Bob ended his relationship with Nicole. It was too much for him. Losing his dad and step mom, the way it happened, it was too much...he couldn't continue his relationship with her.

And Nicole called Shane that night, crying, and begging for him to take her back. In within minutes, my life changed.

He started crying, told her he forgave her, and told her about his relationship with me. And asked her to come home.

Nicole was angry beyond words, and called my husband at work. Told him everything. And he called me.

I was HYSTERICAL. SO ANGRY. I called Shane sobbing, wanting to know why he would do that to me. If he wanted to end it, fine, but did he have to hurt my husband? Hurt me?

My husband was done. He came home, packed a suitcase, and ignored the fact that I was PLEADING WITH HIM, BEGGING HIM to stay.

He left. And for two days, I sat in my own misery, doing the bare minimum to be a decent mom. I called in sick. My friend, Fran, at work, knew the entire story. We had become friends when she was hired to cover my maternity leave in 2001. She was kept on after that, and shortly into our friendship, she looked at me and said "you have a freaky side, I can tell, and I bet you have cheated on your husband." I almost fell out of my chair. And so started a friendship, one that was based on the ability to confide in each other regarding our adventures in adultery. Fran covered for me at work, and convinced me that I could, and would survive this.

Our oldest had started kindergarten shortly before this, and didn't question the fact that dad was "helping" at grandpa's house for a few days. That is what I told him. After the first day of my husband being gone, I broke down. Called my mother, and called Annie, my best friend at the time. My mother isn't one to use nicknames, yet her reaction was "Oh, Sweetheart. He will be back." The problem was that she didn't know WHY he had left, just that he had left. I said we were fighting, and didn't give specifics. To anyone.

He did come back. And I knew, without a doubt, that if I did something like this again, it was over for good. He told me so, and I believe it to this day. We began making drastic changes together. We decided that his work schedule wasn't working for our family. We changed jobs so that we could work together, which had been something we had wanted to do. Walking away from working with Office Manager was healing within itself. It was hard to leave Fran, but it was a good move.

We had no contact with Shane, Nicole, or Bob. We didn't drink. We worked, parented, and tried again. We set career goals, and started talking about being business owners one day. We also became somewhat serious about moving...we had always wanted to live in a smaller town, and getting away from an area where we passed Shane and Nicole's house seemed like it might help. We spent every Tuesday together...making it a day off for us, and would often drive around with our youngest, looking at areas that we might want to move to. My husband had told his father everything when he went to stay with him for a few days, and while his father hasn't treated me much different, his step mom went from bitchy to super bitchy towards me. And I must suck it up. I dug this hole.

I ran into Nicole at the school while picking up my son a few months later. I apologized to her. We had a civil conversation. We hugged. And I haven't talked to her since. Prior to that, I had called Shane at work one day and apologized to him. Why, I am not sure, I feel like HE owed ME the apology. I hate having enemies though, and so to this day I send them a Christmas card. It is the least I can do.

I have tried, several times, to get in contact with Bob. My husband feels bad that he was mean to him after the whole thing with Nicole was out in the open. I know that rebuilding that friendship with Bob is something that my husband would like. He says he doesn't care, that the past is the past, but I don't believe it. I have faith that I will succeed at this someday, and that while Shane and Nicole are a chapter to our past, I don't think Bob is. I haven't given up on this, and will periodically reach out to Bob by email.

To be continued...

THE AFFAIR THAT STARTED IT ALL

At 20, I changed jobs...and was ecstatic. I worked for a small company, had my own office, liked what I was doing, and was paid well above what I should have been for the time and the job.

I was hired by the Office Manager, a 39 year old man that wore cowboy boots religiously. Different pairs for different outfits. Tons of them. Being married to a cowboy, and having gone through a brief period in my teens where I fronted like a country girl, I thought it was cute. He wasn't particularly attractive, yet not unattractive either. Reddish hair that was thinning, a beard, the slightest hint of a tummy. Yet, intriguing.

I remember several months into the job sitting in a meeting with him and several co-workers. I looked at him, and although I had no reason to think this, the thought hit me like a ton of bricks.

I KNEW that I would have an affair with him.

He had never flirted, never acted inappropriately, never given me any indication of anything.
Yet I KNEW.

And ironically, shortly thereafter, something shifted. He pulled me aside and asked how things were going with a certain person in the department I worked in. This employee had been notorious for being difficult to work with, and the person that held my job previously had quit because she could not stand working with this person.

And I told him that while she was challenging, things were okay. Meanwhile I am thinking that it would be crazy to bitch, I was still a relatively new employee, and I liked my job!

He suggested that we go to lunch or have a drink after work (I had just turned 21) to discuss this further. RED FLAG NUMBER ONE! Of course I could have said no. And of course, I didn't.

We met up after an all day Saturday training that I attended, he was there too. We drove in his truck all around the city, talking about everything and everything...including my annoying co-worker. We never ate, or drank, just talked and talked and talked. He had lost a child to a terminal disease a couple of years prior, and his pain was very raw. His wife was morbidly obese, and had essentially shut down after their daughter died. He worked all the time, spent time with their son, and that was his life.

As the evening grew later, and we were parked on the side of a busy street talking, he looked at me and asked when my husband would be expecting me home. I looked at him, knowing that my look was daring, and said "I don't really care when he expects me home."

This opened the floodgates. He pried, and I opened up. About my marriage, my disappointment, feeling alone.

At some point, I think he took my hand. And we talked on and on, until he finally took me back to my car.

When we got there, I looked at him and thanked him for listening, and sharing with me. And I think I was mid sentence when he took my face in his hands and kissed me. And then I got in my car, and was so disoriented that I started driving the wrong way home.

The next week at work was a blur, I literally could not eat, I had butterflies constantly. Discreet office style flirting started, and rapidly escalated. We went to lunch together one day, and after that decided that we should lay low.

It took a few weeks for the relationship to become sexual. It was a slow progression of little touches here and there, to being called into his office and kissing once the door was shut. There is no way that others didn't suspect something.

Blow jobs after work in random parking lots became a part of my routine, Valentines Day came and we exchanged gifts behind a restaurant early that morning. With a me having a husband that worked nights, he would sometimes come over and visit. I remember clearly sitting on his lap and eating pizza with him while my 1 year old son was in his high chair eating dinner. And I remember clearly shoving the guilt aside and pretending that it wasn't there.

I was careless, very careless. I think I almost wanted to get caught. I wouldn't clear the caller ID. Suddenly went from not caring about birth control to caring about it. My husband, my oblivious husband, started noticing things. And so clever and sneaky I became, all while reassuring him that there was NOTHING going on.

Office Manager and I carried on this relationship for 9 months. It was never hot and heavy in a sexual manner, and the sex wasn't that great. He had NEVER gone down on his wife, yet did it to me. There was something empowering about feeling him cum in my mouth while someone was making copies 4 feet outside of his office door. His eyes lit up when he looked at me, and more than anything we talked. Without a doubt this relationship was far more emotional than physical.

I tried envisioning us together in real life, yet could never see it working. I was intrigued with his marriage, his daughter that had died, I found many things about his "real" life so interesting. The one time that we got a hotel room, he broke down crying while talking about his daughter and her death. At that moment, I knew. I knew that I was an escape, a fantasy, a release. And that was it. I think he knew that he was the same to me.

We ended it on decent terms, we were both feeling like it had ran it's course, and obviously there wasn't a future for us. It was hard to work together after the split, he treated me much differently than other employees. I was angry with how he was treating me, and out of spite I had an isolated sexual encounter with one of the young guys that worked in the warehouse at the company. And then I told Office Manager about it, wanting to hurt him. He didn't care one bit.

His cold shoulder hurt, we had ended on good terms, so it confused me. I finally called him out on it after I was given a half assed performance review in a manner that he would have never given one to anyone else. And he admitted that he was having guilt issues, and that it was hard to be around me.

I ended up confessing to my husband after the relationship had ended. He cried. I cried. It was terrible. I will never forget how shitty I felt. And yet, he was forgiving. To date, we had one of our best times having sex the night after I had told him. It was one of the few times in 13 years of sleeping together that I felt that he was very "present" and in the moment. There was a raw, emotional, intensity to it. It is so unfortunate that it took his knowledge of an affair to be that way. And even more unfortunate that it was a one time thing. We began writing to each other in a journal daily, and that helped. It wasn't always pleasant, but it was healing to both of us.

Office Manager decided that for his own sake he needed to talk to my husband. He called him, and apologized to him, and apparently they had a nice little chat. So nice that Office Manager decided to go to my house and apologize to my husband in person. And so he did...on my 22nd birthday. They sat around and chatted like I wasn't there. It was surreal.

And that was that...after that everything was okay. Working with Office Manager went back to normal. Things at home went back to normal. And slowly, my husband slipped back into his old habits. I suggested marriage counseling, and he refused to go. I went to counseling alone. Where, again, I was met with the attitude that STATISTICALLY my marriage would not last. How encouraging is THAT?

While things weren't great, they weren't horrible. And I wanted another baby. We talked long and hard about it, and it seemed like for once we were on the same page. I refused to get pregnant if things weren't okay, if there wasn't hope. Yet, there appeared to be hope, and so we tried to heal our marriage, and tried to get pregnant. After 9 months, I was finally pregnant, and we appeared to be doing okay. As okay as we could be. And 9 months after that, our second son was born. I made the conscious decision that he was our last, and had my tubes tied at the age of 23. Most doctors wouldn't even approve of this at such a young age, but because I had high risk pregnancies (long, unrelated story), he approved.

To this day, my second child, my precious boy that cracks me up, represents hope. And while I know that the hope within my marriage is gone, he represents a greater hope to me. I have never looked at him as a child that was supposed to heal a broken marriage, because that isn't a child's job. To me, he represents effort, and hope for better times. And while I can say with certainty that the effort has been made, over and over again, I realize that the hope is bigger than within the four walls of my home. The hope is for happiness, no matter which direction it is found, no matter what it takes to get there.