Infidelity Anonymous 02: Martin

This is the second installment in a series of stories about a fictitious organization designed along the lines of Alcoholics Anonymous where people who have cheated on their spouses, and the spouses they cheated on, can both find support and forgiveness as they work to rebuild their lives. There may well be an organization like this, and there are many organizations that attempt to meet the needs of those whose happiness has been destroyed by infidelity, but this creation is meant to be pure fiction.

Be warned: There is no sex and it is not a BTB or RAAC story.

*** *** ***

Henry stood by the coffee pot filling his mug. He knew that once the meeting started, he would have no chance of getting back here until it was over. Henry was a big man with a big appetite, so he grabbed two donuts and made his way back to his seat in the corner near the front of the room. He was a popular member of the group and everyone wanted to say hello as he made his way. A few had a joke they were saving for him. Henry's fondness for a good joke was legendary. What was not as well known by some was the pain he still carried in his heart.

"Okay, everybody... Oh man, who brought the apple cider donuts? George, was it you? Way to go, dude! Okay, everyone, let's get the meeting started. Fill your mug and grab a donut. I think I left one over there. Then grab a seat."

It's always best to start these meetings with some humor. They could get very intense.

"Hi, I'm Henry. I'm your moderator for this evening and I'm a victim of infidelity."

"Hi, Henry!" The group new the drill. Every introduction got a welcome.

"Those of you who have been here before know how we begin each meeting, and the new folks can learn it now. Let's start as always by saying the Serenity Prayer."

Henry leads them. "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference."

"I see we have some visitors here for the first time. Welcome. Find a seat. If you didn't come with a friend, you'll find one here tonight. This is a healing place, a place where we support one another. Some of us have been hurt by the infidelity of our partners and the people we love. Others have been hurt by their own infidelity. It doesn't matter which you are. You are all welcome here."

"The moderators of our meetings have a choice: they can speak, or they can step back and let others speak. Now, I'm really enjoying this donut, so I'm going to invite someone else to speak tonight."

That got a laugh. The group respected Henry, but they respected his appetite, too.

"Would anyone like to speak tonight? Please don't make me put down this donut; it's really too damn good. Martin, are you volunteering? Come on up here, my friend!"

A rather unassuming man stood and walked to the front of the room. In a suit, he would easily be mistaken for an accountant or a bank manager. He was, in fact, a highly skilled machinist whose work required careful attention. He was an artist at his craft and everything he did was done with meticulous thought and care. This extended to his private life as well.

"Hi. My name is Martin and I'm a victim of infidelity."

"Hi, Martin!"

"I guess I should first tell you what happened and then I can explain what's on my mind tonight. I met my wife a few years out of school. I went to a trade school after high school and learned to be a machinist. I got hired in at a small shop that made pieces for specialized prototypes that require high tolerances. It was pretty overwhelming at first. I guess they had to throw away more pieces than they kept, but in time I got the hang of it. Now, I have to admit that I'm pretty proud of what I do. I mean, it's not exciting by some folk's standards, and I'm no brain surgeon, but I like the challenge and I'm pretty good at it."

"The thing of it is, when I'm finished with a piece it either measures up or it doesn't. There's no two ways about it. My boss can't take it on faith that the part measures right; it has to be tested and I understand that. Once it's tested and it passes, then it's good and I move on to the next piece. I guess that sounds boring to some of you, but I find every new piece is a challenge."

"Somewhere along the way I must have figured my marriage was like one of those pieces. I loved my wife. I knew she loved me. I stopped testing and measuring. I just knew it was right. I guess there was something about it that wasn't right somewhere. Eight years into it I caught her at a motel with another man. It was just one of those days when something completely unplanned turned my whole life to shit. The crew decided to go out and get lunch together. We don't do it very often, so we decided to go across town to a BBQ place we liked. There is a motel across the street which is where my marriage ended. I was sitting in the window when I saw my wife's car pull up. She got out, met some man I didn't recognize, kissed him, and headed inside. I just sat there staring and wondering, mostly worrying, and trying to convince myself I didn't see what I knew I saw. I guess I started measuring my marriage right then and I started thinking it wasn't going to pass inspection. I stood up to leave and everyone asked me what I was doing. We were still waiting for our food. I told them I had to leave, and I walked across the street. It was just one of those little one-floor motels with the doors opening on the parking lot and I'd seen what room they went into. I checked my wife's car and sure enough, it was hers. I guess ten minutes must have gone by at this point. I walked over to the room thinking I'd bang on the door, but the curtain wasn't quite closed and I could see inside. Well, you can probably imagine what I saw."

Martin paused for a moment. "I guess I went a little nuts after that. There was a big ceramic flowerpot. I picked it up and I threw it through the widow. There must have been glass everywhere. I didn't notice. They jumped. My wife tried to cover herself, but it was way too late for that. I started through the window after the guy, but then I thought 'To hell with that!' I grabbed another flowerpot and I threw it through his car's front window, or I tried to." Martin paused momentarily and chuckled at this. "That automotive glass doesn't break as easily as a picture window, but I managed to crack it pretty good. Then I pulled out my Leatherman tool that I always carry on my belt and I punctured every one of his tires. I did a number on his paint job, too." The group was smiling at the thought of Martin taking out his revenge on the car. "Needless to say, the wipers didn't survive."

"There's never a cop when you need one but throw one flowerpot through one window and they get there lickety-split! I guess it was the manager that called the cops. The coward with my wife had locked himself in the bathroom by this time. I was arrested. My wife posted my bail. They gave me back my Leatherman as I was leaving. In hindsight, they probably shouldn't have done that. I was still angry. When I saw her, I nearly went for her. When I saw her car, the same car that she drove to that damn motel, I went for her car. Two cops pulled me off it and I was arrested again. I didn't even make it off the police station parking lot."

Martin was smiling and the group was trying not to laugh.

"It was two months before I agreed to sit down with my wife. It took less time than that to file the divorce papers. She was a mess. She cried and begged and pleaded. She said things that I figured meant she just had to be out of her damn mind! 'It didn't mean anything! It was all a mistake. It was an accident.' An accident? What the fu... An accident is when you spill your coffee in your lap. An accident is when you misread the calipers and drill a hole ten micrometers off. And as for it not meaning anything, well it damn well meant something to me!"

"I couldn't stand the sight of her. That was two years ago, and I still can't look at her."

Martin took a deep breath. "So, with that for background, here's what I wanted to say."

At that point even Henry had to laugh, and he tries to show maximum respect whenever he's moderating a meeting.

"I love women and I need women, but I don't trust them one damn bit. She took away my marriage. She pissed all over it. But more than that she took my trust. Every time I meet a woman, I find myself wondering, 'When will this one lie? What will she do to make me believe her and how long will that last?' I tell you, I don't want to go through life this way. I'm afraid that I'll meet a truly good woman and I won't be able to form a meaningful relationship. I have this mental image where I come barging into her living room with 'Ah ha! I caught you!' and she'll be having lunch with her brother and his family. I'm trying to get over it. I want to leave the anger and the hurt behind. The problem is that I have tested marriage and it didn't pass inspection."

Martin paused for a moment. "Thanks for listening."

As is the custom, the group gave Martin applause to show their support.

Henry stepped to the podium. "Martin, you know a lot of us have been there, too. Believe me, it does get better. Just keep working the program. Now, who else would like to share tonight?"

I hand went up to Henry's left. "Peter, we haven't heard from you in a long while. Come on up!"

A middle-aged man in a suit walked to the front of the room. "Hi, my name is Peter and I'm a victim of infidelity."

"Hi, Peter!"

"I guess that isn't entirely true, or it isn't complete. I've been wrestling less with what happened to me and more with what I've done. I think it's time I got it off my chest."

"Two years ago, I caught my wife with a coworker. It's a long story and the details aren't important. Let's just say I was in the right place at the right time, or maybe it was the wrong place at the wrong time. I guess it all depends on what you know and what you want to know. Anyway, that bit... I mean, she broke my heart. I went back and forth between anger and pain. She tried to talk to me, but I wasn't interested in listening. I guess I'm still not, but she has pretty much stopped trying. I moved out, filed for divorce, and did everything I could do to burn her short of actually lighting her on fire. And I thought about that, too! Anyway, I got the divorce, got settled on my own, and pretty soon I got really bored just sitting in my apartment at night. So, I went out to a local club."

"You know what? When I was young, I wasn't much of a hound. I met women, sized them up... I mean, I listened to them and tried to figure out what they were like." The group was laughing quietly and nodding in mock agreement. "No, really! That's what I meant!"

"Anyway, I got to the club, ordered a beer, and sat there watching all the action. You know what happened? Women came up to me and asked me to dance! That almost never happened when I was younger. And these women, let's just say they weren't shy. They went from zero to fifty in just two or three dances. Before the night was up, they'd hand me their phone number without me even asking and if I stayed around long enough a second woman would jump in where the first one left off. My dance card was filled just by walking in the door. And when I say dance card, I mean date night. And when I say date night, I mean my bed!"

"Brother, it's a whole new world out there and I feel like Christopher Columbus!"

Maybe the group was enjoying this story just a little too much, but some of these folks needed to know the future was not all gloom and doom.

"Here's the part that I'm not proud of. I got into the dating scene too quickly. I didn't resolve my emotions from the divorce first. Don't get me wrong; I was having a great time! The problem is I was still carrying a lot of anger. It was just buried deep where I didn't see it. So, when married women started throwing pitches at me, I started catching them. I even told myself that if they wanted to cheat on their husbands, then that was their business and none of mine. It took the better part of six months before I woke up to what I was doing. Sure, those wives were going to cheat on their husbands with or without me, but I didn't need to be a part of it. Those husbands didn't do anything to me. They didn't deserve what I was doing. I have to tell you that I feel a lot of guilt right now. I took a vow: 'No more married women!' Wouldn't you know it? The next night I met a fox that made me... But I kept my vow and I've been keeping it ever since. God help me, I've been keeping it."

"I know now that the anger that got me through my divorce isn't going to get me through life. I have a lot of years ahead of me still, knock on wood, and I don't want to spend it looking over my shoulder for an angry husband."

"And, no, before you ask, it was never any of your wives. Well, not unless you're married to a red head with huge ti... I mean breasts, that can suck the rust off a steal plow!" Peter rolled his eyes and exhaled to exaggerated effect.

The group doesn't normally applaud and laugh at the same time, but that line got everything short of a standing ovation.

"Anyway, I know now that I need to do the F-word with my ex-wife. No, not that one! I need to forgive the... I need to forgive her. I'm not doing it for her sake. I'm doing it for my own. All that anger made me forget who I am. I'm not a man who cuckold's another man. I don't screw around with married women... anymore. I never used to, and I won't in the future. Damn it, I hate the whole idea of it, but I need to forgive her so I can move forward and be the kind of man that I need to be. I need to do it for me."

"Well, thanks for listening."

Peter got a very supportive round of applause. There were men and women in the room who understood his situation very well and maybe a few who were jealous. Forgiveness is a tough lesson to learn, but there were people there who were wrestling with that very problem and they knew it well.

Henry stepped forward. "Who else is willing to share tonight. We have time for one more."

This time a hand went up from the back of the room.

"George! Come on up here. Everyone, George has been coming here for a few months now and this is his first time sharing. Let's all make him feel welcome."

"Hi. My name is George and I'm a victim of infidelity."

"Hi, George!"

"So, like Henry said, I've been coming here for a while. I've kept my mouth shut not so much because I'm shy or I don't want anyone to know what happened, but because I needed to get a feel for the room first. My story is a little different and I wasn't sure how people would react."

"Until recently, I lived in Maryland. You know, 'The Land of Pleasant Living' as they call it. I lived not far outside of Baltimore, which is a very ethnic town. There are still parts of the town that are almost entirely Italian, or Polish, or Lithuanian, or whatever, and you hear a lot of ethnic jokes. Now, I'm not saying any of this to make anyone feel bad, but it's mostly in good fun. This group tells jokes about that group and that group tells jokes about another group, and everyone tells jokes about the people from West Virginia. Some tell jokes about the people from Pennsylvania, but they're the same jokes."

George looked around the room for signs that anyone was offended. He didn't see any, so he continued. "I'm not trying to offend anyone with this. They're basically just hillbilly jokes, but one is particularly relevant: What is the big legal issue in West Virginia?" George looked around the room and still he didn't see any anger. "If a man and wife get divorced, are they still brother and sister?"

Apparently, hillbilly jokes were a hit with this group. That got a laugh, so he continued.

"Whenever something just monumentally stupid happened where I lived, I would tell someone, 'Well, it's not West Virginia, but you can see it from here!' and that usually got a laugh. I had no idea just how right I was."

"I was feeling unwell one day and went home from work early. Well, you can guess what I found. My wife was in bed with another man and I instantly recognized him!"

A groan went up from the room.

"No, no, it wasn't her brother. Remember, I said, 'This isn't West Virginia, but you can see it from here.' It wasn't her brother; it was my brother." George stopped for a time to get his anger under control. "When we were kids, we used to wrestle and fight like most boys, but we never did each other any real harm. Well, I beat the ever-lovin' crap out of that son-of-a-bitch until my loving, and still very naked, wife threw herself on top of him and begged me not to hurt him anymore. She said later that she did it to save me from going to jail, but I don't believe it."

"Well, that was the end of the marriage. You don't come back from that kind of betrayal."

"I guess I'm a vindictive little shit, but I went straight to his wife and told her what I'd seen. I figured that if he ruined my life, I'd ruin his. And I did, for a time. She's divorcing him. I'm divorcing my wife. Revenge is sweet, right? Well, maybe not so sweet. My brother and my wife shacked up together. You want to hear the best part? My parents don't want to take sides. They don't like it, but they say they can't get into the middle of it. My own parents..."

"This whole twelve steps, forgiveness, moving on thing is really bustin' my ass." George shook his head, looking around the room one last time. "So, anyway, does anyone want to come with me to my parent's house for Thanksgiving dinner? It's gonna be a hell of a night!"

The group got one last, uncomfortable laugh and Henry thought to himself, "He's going to make it."

"Thanks, everyone. I needed to get that off my chest."

George got more than a polite round of applause as he walked to his seat. He got handshakes, back slaps, and words of support from men, and a few women, who understand the pain of betrayal.

Henry stepped to the front of the room. "Well, I guess that about does it for tonight. There's no need to leave right away; stick around and talk. Please put your chair on the rack so someone else doesn't need to do it. And, ah, I hope we see you next week. Keep working the program."

*** *** ***

I hope that West Virginia joke isn't something I stole from someone here. It's an old joke and one that has been rattling around in my brain for a long time, but I sometimes forget where I hear things. It's my second-favorite hillbilly joke.