An Unfaithful Wife

WELCOME HOME

The waitress delivered our drinks while we perused our dinner menus. I had an Old Fashioned while my wife, Jill, had a Martini. The menu was seafood heavy, as one would expect in this coastal resort area. It provided tempting offerings for pricey sums.

Jill had reserved the premium corner window table in this new and very upscale restaurant for our special night out. We looked out upon a scenic vista of Boggy Bayou. The languid bayou feeds into Choctawhatchee Bay in the Niceville (where we owned a comfortable four bedroom home)-Valparaiso-Eglin AFB area.

Jill was dressed to the tees in an expensive new outfit that she bought yesterday especially for tonight. It was a chic, tailored look, more sophisticated rather than overtly sexy. She also had a spa massage along with a full session at the beauty parlor and the nail salon this morning. Her coffered hair and carefully applied makeup spoke to the effort she made to look good tonight. Jill modeled the whole ensemble for me before we left the house - she was one put-together, good looking lady tonight.

Jill is a medium height, well proportioned, thirty-two year old woman with shoulder-length chestnut hair and large brown eyes. Those eyes can be playful, thoughtful, or steely depending on her mood. A new perfume I did not recognize surrounded her with a pleasant floral aura, not too strong and just enough to snag a man's attention every so often as it wafted by. Jill was not a Hollywood bombshell, but she certainly was an attractive grown woman with a well toned figure.

My wife organized tonight as my celebratory welcome home. For the last three months I had worked in the desert in Saudi and the Emirates for a major DOD contractor. We installed and did troubleshooting for high-end specialty electronics needed by the U.S. military. The buildup for the invasion that would eventually drive Sadam out of Kuwait back in the 1990s was underway, and there was much to do.

It was a hard deployment - constantly moving, lousy food, and primitive living conditions. We worked six and seven days a week and ten to twelve hours a day. Time off was scarce, and there were negligible opportunities for communication back home. (This was back in the pre-internet, email, and cell phone communications that are so ubiquitous today.) I grew to hate the brutally hot days, biting sandflies, scary camel spiders, and wicked-looking scorpions. Also if I never see another damn sand storm that will be fine by me. I am not physically that big to start with but still lost ten pounds while in the field. The skin on my lean frame was now burnished a deep mahogany, cracked, and wind-burnt. But we accomplished good and important work despite the hardships.

Jill warmly welcomed me back home when I arrived at two o'clock this afternoon following a tedious two-day hopscotch itinerary from Doha. She was understandably a tad frazzled getting herself and our big night out organized as well as trying to adjust to the abrupt reappearance of her nomad husband. The teenager next door was babysitting our seven- and eight-year olds. The kids were not pleased with our going out as soon as I got home, but Jill insisted we needed tonight to ourselves.

Having long since tired of the poor field fare of the last three months, I pondered the tempting menu offerings with keen interest as I sipped on my refreshing drink. I was having trouble deciding between three or four of the exquisitely enticing dishes. Ah, life was good!

Meanwhile, Jill stared absentmindedly at her menu as she swirled her Martini. She nibbled one of her three skewered Martini olives thoughtfully and then took a healthy sip of her drink. With a sigh she placed the glass next to her menu and raised her head to look directly at me. Her lips were set in a firm line and her brown eyes bored into me without blinking. This was her steely look. Something was wrong.

When I looked up at Jill questioningly, she resolutely pronounced without inflection, "Honey, there is no easy way to say this; while you were gone, I had an affair."

"Ah shit," I thought to myself, "Welcome home."

I stared at Jill in pained surprise, at a loss as to what to say to such unwelcome news. Her large brown eyes met my gaze calmly, without blinking. The face of my wife of ten years was inscrutable.

After a few beats, I looked away over the bayou where the sun was setting. I remember the sunset was particularly picturesque that evening with hues of gold and scarlet. The flaming sunset seemed an apt omen for my marriage.

No, I guess I am not really surprised by Jill's affair. We married before we appreciated all that marriage entails. Since then we had drifted on entirely different currents, and quite frankly, we just didn't jive any more. Both of us were culprits in the decay of our once promising marriage.

Maybe saddest of all, our sex life had become anemic. No marriage flourishes without a bedroom agenda that is satisfactory for both partners. If Jill was as bored with our marital bedroom as I was, I could certainly sympathize with her having an affair. Heaven knows, pursuing a sexual liaison with available women crossed my mind more than once during my travels. I can certainly relate to Jill's carnal temptations.

A wife's infidelity while her husband is away is such an age-old tale that it should not be an unexpected surprise. Jill's pronouncement was essentially the traditional "Dear John letter" bored and restless women routinely deliver to their absent boyfriends and husbands. It has been so over the generations that stretch back into antiquity.

I looked back at Jill and took a deep breath trying to compose an answer to her stinging declaration that had blazed meteor-like out of the blue.

Jill watched with an enigmatic gaze, waiting to see how I would respond to her bold announcement. Would I see her infidelity as a singular, naughty little affaire d'amour and forgive her? Or would I see it as a betrayal of trust and marriage vows and react with outrage? Or would I fall somewhere in between?

I was not been happy in this marriage - not desperately unhappy, more just numb I guess. However, with two children and a mortgage, I had deemed divorce neither desirable nor feasible. After all, I did take our weddings vows "for better or worse" seriously. Well, worse has arrived.

But now, after her affair, why not divorce? Our marriage has crashed into a reef that usually rips the guts out of any marriage. As always, the kids would be the big losers, but trying to hang on for another dozen years just to get them off to college didn't make any sense either.

I exhaled and said quietly, "Okay.... Sounds like it is time we each went our own separate ways. That works for me."

My cold response triggered an unexpected and explosive reaction from Jill. She leaned forward glaring angrily at me and hissed, "Hell no, we most certainly are not! I have invested ten years in this marriage. I am not about to let you just up and throw it all away. Damn it, don't you care about our marriage? About me? We also have two kids to consider. We are going to marriage counseling and do whatever it takes to save this marriage."

Jill sat back, and exhaled loudly, obviously irritated at my cool reception of her dramatic announcement of the affair. She was always a bit of a drama queen. Jill took another gulp of her Martini. Her face was flushed, and she was rigid with anger.

In a tight voice, she continued, " I checked around with other wives. Your company offers a free mental health program for employees and their families. That includes a contract with one of the top marriage counseling firms in northern Florida. Call them tomorrow and make an appointment. It is not going to cost you anything."

I shrugged and replied irritably, "Fine. For the kids' sake. Now, who is your lover, and when and how many times did you screw Mr. Whoever behind my back?"

Jill's cheeks flamed with rage as she snapped, "Don't you dare talk to me that way!"

She took a another deep breath regaining control of herself, gave me a cold stare, and replied snippily, "I admitted I had an affair. I take full responsibility. It was only one time. I am sorry. That is all. You do not need to know more. End of story."

A man who loses his temper is prone to say stupid things and prone to do even stupider things. I throttled back what I was tempted to say. Instead I replied in an even, formal tone, "Jill, I think your husband deserves to know when and with whom his wife had sex while he was gone."

Jill looked away over the now darkening bayou and replied cooly, "You do not. It is none of your business."

Jill turned her gaze back to me and said earnestly as she leaned forward and grasped my hand, "Look honey, your knowing all the tawdry details of my affair will not change anything. It will just cause you heartache. I desperately want to spare you any pain or embarrassment over my silly mistake. None of those details are germane to our marriage counseling and rebuilding our marriage. I am ashamed of what I did, and I take full responsibility for it. I will never do it again. That is what matters. Please understand."

Jill released my hand and sat back watching me intently trying to gauge my reaction to her impassioned entreaty.

I mulled over Jill's response to my demand. I sensed this pronouncement was carefully thought out and rehearsed long before I ever set foot back in the states. Since my wife would not confess a name, I could probably safely assume she was screwing somebody I knew; good chance it was someone from work as many of us often socialize together.

I shook my head in irritated disgust. Great! Nothing like being cuckolded by your wife in front of friends and coworkers. As these extramarital affairs go, the dumb-ass cuckold husbands like myself are usually the only people in town who don't know their wives are enthusiastically fucking other men on the side.

Something is definitely rotten in Denmark.

"Well then," I said quietly, "You at least owe your husband some sort of an explanation."

Jill finished her Martini in one final gulp and signaled for another. After a deep sigh, she turned her full attention back to me.

Jill gazed at me with a soft, sympathetic countenance and said gently, "Honey, as to why I had an affair, you can guess. Our sex life is blandsville, totally vanilla. We need to work on that, which we will."

My wife paused for a second and then plowed ruthlessly on in a crisp voice, "To be brutally frank, I just wanted some hot, steamy sex. You are good-looking, a great guy, a generous provider, a doting father, and all of that other really good man stuff.

"However, life is passing me by. I am thirty-two years old with two kids. I hear all the talk on TV and radio about women everywhere who are having great, mind-blowing sex today. I am frustrated that I am not. Some of my girlfriends brag that they are having smoking hot sex all the time. They say I just need to add a little private pizzaz to my sex life."

Jill gave a flirty, sexy smile and a playful nudge on the arm as she whispered, "Come on baby, everybody is doing it today. Times have changed. My affair was nothing personal, honey. It was just plain, old-fashioned, physical sex; you know, kinda like an aerobics class at the gym. It doesn't mean anything to us or our marriage.... It was only the one time also."

I thought wryly to myself, "The lady doth protest too much about one time, methinks."

My inadequacy in the bedroom was a low but deserved blow. However, the other side of the coin was I found my wife equally uninspiring in bed. The truth is it takes two to have a good romp in the hay. The difference between Jill and me was that I had not taken to screwing other women - at least not yet. Perhaps, I should reconsider that option now.

Obviously, some other man was lighting my wife's fire. Her obviously well-lit sexual bonfire certainly didn't make me feel any better about Jill's assessment of my sub-par bedroom performance. I mused to myself that such lusty wildfires also tend to burn white-hot and scorch everything nearby.

I didn't try to respond to Jill's justification for her affair as the waitress arrived to take our meal orders. I don't recall what we ordered, but I am sure it was very tasty. There were other things on my mind that night.

The rest of the meal passed in spasms of stilted, awkward conversations about trivialities interspersed with lengthy stony silences. Jill talked about what the kids had been doing; I described the desert and Arabic culture that I had observed. Other than agreeing on me calling the marriage counseling service in the morning, we pointedly ignored the gorilla sitting at the table and said no more about my wife's affair.

The periodic drawn-out silences gave me ample time to mull things over. Jill kept a sharp eye on me all evening trying to read what I was thinking, but I kept my own counsel.

My frequent and often lengthy travels for work would be an absolute godsend for an unfaithful wife. Our anemic sex life provided an understandable motivation to cheat with which I, intellectually at least, could sympathize. However, Jill's story still stunk like three-day old fish.

Why in the world would my cheating wife voluntarily confess to her husband out of the blue? With my travel and just a modicum of discretion on her part, Jill could maintain a veritable stable of lovers without me ever suspecting. Was she on the verge of being ratted out, maybe by the wife of her lover? If so, I should hear in the next few days. (By the way, I never did hear any such revelation from a furious spouse.)

Was she trying to make me jealous? Prove to me that other men wanted and desired her. Make me shift some of the attention I lavish on work back to her. It's conceivable, I suppose, but that sounds more like the fanciful plot of a romance novel rather than real life.

I did find the idea of her affair mildly erotic in a perverse way; the ol' gal was showing some sexual spunk I had failed to appreciate.

Jill is hardly the guilt-ridden, confessor-type. I had learned over ten years of marriage that her psyche was composed of a solid core of calculating self-interest with a healthy helping of narcissism combined with a talent for self-justification. My wife would never bare her soul to me because of a nagging conscience.

We live a cushy life financially, and Jill does not work. She is free to, if she wants; she just never wanted to. My wife is no domestic diva and usually fills her day with some combination of yoga, aerobics, shopping, lunch and tennis at the country club with friends, some periodic volunteer work, and kid activities after school. Confessing her affair was an unneeded risk with a possible catastrophic outcome for her very comfortable lifestyle.

Jill has a bevy of girlfriends, and about once a month they go out together for dinner, maybe a movie or play, and sometimes a drink afterwards. Nothing wrong with grown women having a night out with their female friends, but lusty temptations do lurk out there in the dark.

I was also puzzled about why would she so adamantly claim to have had just a single sexual encounter? If I enjoyed some, as Jill termed it, "hot steamy sex" on the side, I would want to enjoy more of that good stuff that she says is absent from our bedroom. I certainly would not abstain after a single helping.

In the end, I have no idea what my wife has really been up to nor what she is up to now.

AFTER THE ANNOUNCEMENT

We made it a short dinner and returned home, blaming the early return on my jet-lag. I walked the babysitter back home next door while Jill got the kids ready for bed. I read them a story, and then my wife and I withdrew to our marital bed. Neither of us had our heart in it, and the sex was blandsville again, or maybe even worse.

Jill reminded me at breakfast the next morning to call the marriage counselor. I dutifully called from work and made an appointment for two pm on Wednesday of the following week.

I also spent my next few lunch breaks at the public library boning up on divorces. Infidelity was by far the most common "straw that broke the camel's back" cited as the catalyst to trigger divorces in the surveys that I read. Jill and I were simply replowing the same old ground as many other American couples. Couples plowing such ground appear to produce a crop of divorce, reconciliation, or murder.

In the local divorce courts, no-fault divorce with joint custody and primary residence with the mother for any children was the overwhelming norm. Typically the local judges provided non-working spouses like Jill some form of relatively generous alimony, at least for a limited time. That time might range up to ten years and sometimes could be permanent. Since Jill had not worked in a decade, I could expect a lengthy and expensive period for her rehabilitative alimony.

It became more interesting if one filed for divorce for cause such as adultery. In such cases, the local court often denied the adulterous spouse any alimony and sometimes divided the common property, particularly the house ownership, in favor of the wronged spouse.

However, as I dug deeper in my research, I found that Jill might have pulled a fast legal maneuver on me. She admitted her affair to me in the restaurant, I agreed to marriage counseling, and then we had sex. Based on those actions, the court would rule that we had reconciled and that I condoned my wife's affair. Ergo, I can no longer file for divorce for cause based on her adultery. Could my wife of ten years be so devious as to plan that? Surely not.

So. I guess my choices are reconciliation, expensive no-fault divorce with lengthy or permanent alimony, or murder. Florida has a death penalty which does mitigate against the last option.

THE MARRIAGE COUNSELOR

The following Wednesday we met the marriage counselor, Dan, as scheduled. We had to fill out some generic forms with personal information and background on our marriage. Dan perused these, made small talk about our personal and marital backgrounds, told us about himself, and explained about marriage counseling.

Finally, he clasped his hands in front of him on his desk and said gently, "So now the million dollar question, you tell me why you think you are here."

Jill and I glanced at one another, and then she took the bull by the horns. "While my husband, Tom, was overseas, I had an affair." She cut her eyes at me and then looked back at Dan. "I only had sex one time and have never been unfaithful before or since. I am here to save my marriage from my silly mistake. I accept full responsibility and blame for my affair. I am very sorry for what I did."

Jill was dressed in a modest skirt and blouse and sat demurely gazing at her hands clasped in her lap. She looked to be the epitome of a contrite, model wife.

Dan glanced at me quizzically and said quietly, "Tom?"

I shrugged saying, "I don't know what you want me to say? My wife screwed some other guy while I was stuck working out in the damn desert. I am certainly not thrilled about my wife of ten years publically cuckolding me and turning me into a laughing stock around town."

Jill snapped a sharp, angry retort, "It is not like that! The affair is about me and my needs and not your damn ego."

She took a deep breath and continued more calmly, "We have invested ten years in our marriage and have two children." She gave me a hard glare before saying emphatically, "We both want to resurrect our marriage and not let my silly little mistake ruin things." She strongly stressed "both."

Dan followed up with more questions about the affair, but Jill remained frustratingly closed mouthed about any details. He eventually shifted to other questions about the children, my work, and our common interests.