There was an incident shortly after I married my husband, where I found out that he'd been having hour-long conversations with a female friend. I knew she existed, but he had acted as if he didn't speak to her very much and she was just an acquaintance. So, when I found out... I made it very clear that this constitutes an emotional affair, even if there was no sex (which I believed there wasn't) and that since he violated my trust he was to never have contact with her again. I made it very clear that if he ever, EVER, lied to me again in our marriage - even a lie so small as what he had for breakfast - I would be out the door and never look back. He knows about my childhood, with lying parents and about my serious relationship before him which was physically and emotionally abusive.
Fast forward three years, and I discover that he recently ran into her again and exchanged phone numbers. And hid it from me. That was bad enough, but then I did more snooping and saw... he had quite a few phone numbers he'd hidden from me. Thanks to the wonder of Google, I see that the numbers are from prostitutes advertisements on the internet.
First, he tried to say that he was calling around to schedule massages for us - regular, spa massages, as he has a bad back and I have a chronic pain condition - and that he "ended up calling a few places that weren't what they seemed to be!" Innocently, of course. Well, when I told him that I already saw the ads and it's pointless to lie because there was certainly no ambiguity to these ads: they clearly stated they were female prostitutes looking for male clients, he pretended to come clean and "admit" that he called them.
He insisted that he never actually met up with any of them. That he doesn't know what he was thinking and is "so sorry" for even thinking of betraying me. But... then I'm going through phone records, and I discover TWO of the prostitutes numbers were dialed from his cell phone in August when I was out of town. I had spoken to him on the phone the day they were dialed and he'd told me he'd injured his back and gotten a massage from a local place. A regular massage.
I confront him with THIS new proof, and he feigns confusion and says he doesn't know what's going on. So, blah blah, I'm sure you can imagine that conversation. Let's just say it included me throwing a glass across the room (no, not at him, however much he may deserve it) and he finally admits to calling the woman, BUT! While she WAS naked, she did REALLY just rub his back because she was also a real masseuse, not JUST a 'happy ending' masseuse. Ok, now I'm so disgusted and fed up with his lies I just give up and end the conversation.
He swears that, while he understands that I am going to get tested no matter what he says and he understands that I don't believe him, he SWEARS there was no sexual contact. He says he'll be glad to get tested too, if I want - and I tell him "I don't want you to get tested for me, I want you to get tested for the sake of the poor woman you end up with in the future."
sPEAKING OF: I had him call the woman, mentioned in the beginning of the post, and have a conversation with her on speakerphone without her knowing I was listening. I'm confident he didn't have sex with her, based on that conversation. But I am not by any means confident he didn't have sex with the prostitutes.
I guess I just want to know, from those of you who've dealt with this, have you EVER heard of a man calling prostitutes and not using them? I mean, don't get me wrong... it's over, even if I believed that, it would be over. Jesus, lies are the worst thing anyone could do to me, and these aren't just lies, it's cheating. Physical contact or not, this: is cheating. It's Saturday, he's known that *I* know since Wednesday, why can't he just fess up?
I guess the worst part is, I'm unemployed, and he has all the power. I'm trapped in this place with him until I save up enough to move out. And no, I don't want him to move - *I* want to move. I have no ties to this city without him, and I want a fresh start. I have friends that are like family to me in other cities and states, and I'm deciding which one of them I'd like to live near... but I'm trapped, and I hate him for that. I got a couple thousand dollars from my fathers death earlier this year, in February, that I could have used to leave him. Why couldn't he just let me go when I had the power to go?
Maintaining my self control and being the person I want to be has been the hardest. I have a past of NSSI (non-suicidal self-injury). I already crossed the line I set for myself about no violence (breaking the glass) and I did have a small relapse of NSSI, I burned myself. I don't know if anyone here has any experience with that, but let me add the disclaimer just in case: I am recovered, have been for years, this was a relapse and I've regained the control I need not to relapse again, and people like me are educated on how to give in to these urges without causing serious harm. (e.g. cutting or burning too deep, etc.) But I seriously don't know how long I can be here without breaking more glasses or giving in to that side of myself. I want to punch holes in him, and definitely *won't* do that, but I may punch a wall.
And recovery is hard work, folks. I hate that side of myself, but I know it well and I have done the work... having these feelings come back isn't fair. I worked so hard to be mentally healthy again, before I met him, before all of this. It isn't fair that my hard work is compromised, that I am burdened with the consequences of HIS actions while he sits on the couch watching football.
And I may not be able to get out for weeks. Meanwhile, I yearn for the truth he won't give me. To sum all of this up: WTF.