Rue the Day Pt. 02

This story is a follow up to a Loving Wives category story. I want to say thank you to Just_Words for the format idea. I have tried to contact him a couple of times but got no answer back. I hope that he appreciates the fact that he is an inspiration for other authors. I also want to thank Infinite Cycle for commenting on my original story. I have used a part of his comment in this story and hope that he appreciates it as well.

As always, I appreciate all comments and ask that you read all of my stories and comment if you have thoughts. There is no sex in this story which is why I have put it in this category. I hope you like it.

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

That was the 6th time I had recited that prayer aloud with the group. It is my ninth time coming to the group. I didn't know the prayer the first week, and it didn't feel right saying it the next 2 weeks. I guess part of the reason is that I didn't want to change things that I knew I could and probably should. By the 4th week, however, I was able to recite it and felt like it really meant something.

I was nervous, tonight was the night, the night I would stand up and tell my story. Everyone here had been supportive and patient with me as I sat in the back of the room. I'm sure most of them had been the same way when they had first joined the group.

The group was Infidelity Anonymous, a support group for those that were victims of infidelity and those that committed infidelity. There was no judgement, just support in the long journey to find a way through the pain, the pain of either betraying one you loved or being betrayed by someone you loved. Love was the key, if there hadn't been love before, during, or even afterwards then you probably wouldn't be here. You wouldn't have felt the loss and heartache that infidelity brings. Sure, you might be embarrassed, or even resentful, but those emotions will quickly fade in comparison to the hurt that is caused by the results cheating has on a loving relationship.

Tonight's moderator, Henry, had stood up. He liked to break the ice with a joke. "Tonight, I have a story about a 1st grade teacher and her students. I have to warn you, although this is a subject matter on a grade school level it may be a little shocking." He was setting up the joke as only a joke master could do. "The teacher, I'll keep here name unknown to protect her innocence, was going through the alphabet and decided to let the class help her out. 'Class, today we will be going through the alphabet and I would like to give each of you a chance to help out. I will say the letter and if you know a word that starts with that letter raise your hand and I will call on someone to give me a word.' Now in this class was a little boy, Jimmy, that came from a rough part of town with even a rougher home life. The teacher learned within the first couple days of school that this boy had quite the potty mouth. So, when she started the alphabet with 'A' he had risen his hand immediately along with several others. The teacher thought to herself, "I can't choose Jimmy, I know what word he'll say." So she chose another student and she answered 'A Apple'. Next it was the letter B. Jimmy again raised his hand immediately and even waved it around a little. Of course, she knew what he would say so she picked someone else. 'B Boy'. C was the next letter, and again Jimmy's hand went up immediately and he waved his hand more enthusiastically. The teacher knew she couldn't call on Jimmy for that word, there were too many words that would definitely be inappropriate for the classroom. 'C Cat' another student said. For D the teacher had a number of students raise their hand and of course Jimmy was one of them. In fact, he was almost getting out of his seat trying to get her attention, but again she knew better than to pick Jimmy for that letter. 'D Dog' another student answered. When she said the letter E Jimmy again immediately raised his arm and was jumping around in his seat. There were only a couple other students that had raised their hands and the teacher went through in her mind all the possible 'bad' words and couldn't really think of any. "This might be a safe letter to have him answer." The teacher thought. 'Okay Jimmy, what is your word for the letter E?' Jimmy smiled and said confidently, "E Elf". The teacher breathed a sigh of relief. Then Jimmy said, "You know, one of those little fuckers!"

Henry then said, "I told that joke tonight to lighten the mood, but also to impress upon you that we all have expectations and sometimes, even though we make plans and preparations, other people surprise us. Sometimes the surprises are bad, as in this case, but sometimes they are good. Keep trying to bring out the best in those around you and you may be surprised, in a good way."

"I'd like to recite the Serenity Prayer again. I think it will have special meaning tonight."

So, we said it again in unison. Prayer was familiar to me. I had grown up in a loving Christian home. We were faithful churchgoers and said our prayers before we ate and also before we went to sleep. So, saying prayers was not something foreign or even uncomfortable for me.

Henry welcomed everyone, both the regulars and the not so regulars. Henry made everyone feel welcome and also knew how to control the meetings so that all felt the support and also so that it didn't become a hate fest.

When he asked if anyone would like to share their story, he looked right at me. He must have noticed my nervousness and knew that I was ready to make tonight the night. I nodded to him, he smiled and said, "Kurt, we'd love to hear your story. You're among friends here."

I got up and addressed the group. "Hi, my name is Kurt."

They all responded in a kind of unison, "Hi Kurt."

"Whew," I exhaled, trying to gather my wits. "As I look at you all tonight, I see only one other person here that shares a particular aspect in common with me. I am wearing a wedding band. The other person here wears hers as a reminder of what she gave up. I applaud her for her strength to come here and join us, as most of us have been on the receiving end of the cheating heartache. Carol, I support you and hope that you find forgiveness and continued acceptance here.

I wear my ring because I am still married. I said still because, yes, I chose to stay rather than go with my first choice, which was to divorce. I have to admit my reasons for not divorcing were selfish at the time.

It was late in the year 2007 and, as most of you know, our area started feeling the pinch of the Great Recession about a year before the rest of the country. I had been married about 10 years to a woman I loved, and yes, still love. We had purchased a home in a neighborhood that would have probably turned most of you off. It was edgy at best. I, however, saw something in that house and neighborhood that spoke to me saying, "I will be a great investment, and you won't be sorry."

When my wife cheated on me, I had spent 9 years of blood, sweat, and tears working on that house. It was worth 3 times what I paid for it and the neighborhood had become one that young professionals wanted to move into. Part of the reason for that was because there was a sense of community, we cared about each other.

Infidelity came into our marriage after what I thought was 10 good years of a great relationship.

It was the fall and I noticed a slight change in Deborah's demeaner. That in itself did not make me automatically think she was cheating on me. What did, though, was when I opened up the hamper and got a whiff of men's cologne. They say the sense of smell is the most sensitive, I believe them. I am a Maintenance Manager in a factory, I don't wear cologne, so why was my hamper smelling like that? I rummaged through until I found one of Deborah's outfits that smelled of it. Now I had a strong suspicion, but no proof.

In my job, I start work earlier than her, but I usually also work later than her, so she gets home before me. I had to find out what was going on. It wasn't until two weeks later that I could arrange to leave work at 3:30 every day. That way I could follow her when she left work at 4:00. It only took me 3 days to get the proof I needed. She left work the same time as a coworker. They talked for a minute and then she followed him in her car to a motel not too far away. I saw them go in. I was mad and sad at the same time. I'm not stupid, I knew what they were doing. I had to get proof, but I didn't want to pound on the door. This was obviously not the first time, so I wouldn't be stopping something before it started.

I sat there for about an hour. When they came out, I took some pictures with my phone. One in particular stabbed me right in the heart. She was kissing him, passionately, standing in the open doorway. You could see the bed in a wild disarray.

That night I went home late and went right to the computer. I emailed the photos to myself and printed out three copies. One of the photos I cropped so that I had a good headshot of the man. I would need that to find out who he was.

The next day was a Thursday so I got off work a little early and I went to her work dressed in my Sunday best (which for most people is just business casual). I spoke to the receptionist, flirted a little, and asked if she knew who the man in the photo was. She said, "Yeah, it's John Putnam. Why do you ask?"

"I met him at a football game and I'm better with faces than I am with names. I just couldn't remember his name. I didn't want to look stupid when I saw him again and have to say "Hi Bud" or something just as asinine.

"Oh, I understand, I am terrible with names too." She said.

We chatted for a little while longer and then I left.

It didn't take me long to do a little research on the internet and find out his address. I drove by and saw where he lived. I noticed a kid's swing set in the back yard with kids playing on it. I didn't want to bother his wife while she had the kids home so I decided to try to swing by on Friday. I left and went to a bar and milked a couple beers for a while.

When I got home, a little later than usual, I ate warmed up dinner and told Deborah I wasn't feeling good and was going to bed early. She acted all concerned and it took everything I had not to pull away when she felt my forehead with her palm.

Friday, I took off from work at noon. I drove again to John's house and noticed a car in the driveway. I went to the door and knocked. A nice looking, mid 30's woman came to the door and asked, "May I help you?"

"Uh ... My name is Kurt Coleman and I really don't know how to say this, ... Your husband works with my wife and they are having an affair."

She looked at me. I think she could see the pain in my eyes, so she asked, "How do you know that?"

"Yesterday I followed them to a motel after they left work."

"Are you sure it is my husband?"

I took out a picture I had printed and showed it to her. She just stared at it. I took out another picture and said, "They were there about an hour before I took this picture of them kissing."

"An hour? I'm lucky if he can last 3 minutes before he's all done." She said. You have to respect a woman that can face adversity and still joke about it.

We talked for a little while and I told her I would be confronting my wife that evening.

"Are you going to divorce her?" She asked.

"Right now, I can't see any reason that I wouldn't." Little did I know that within 4 days I would have plenty of reasons.

"Well, don't let on that you spoke to me. I will be visiting a lawyer next week. I will have to think about all my options and how it will affect my family." She said.

I wasn't sure what she was going to do. She did have 2 small kids to think about.

Like most people, I don't like confrontation so I avoided going home until almost 8:00. I often come home late from work, but not usually that late.

I sat down at the dining room table. Deborah looked at me and said, "You're late. How are you feeling?"

"Like someone pissed in my Cheerios." I said.

She turned around with a puzzled expression on her face.

I didn't wait for her to speak. "Do you not love me anymore?"

Her expression went from puzzled to shocked. "Of course I do!" She pronounced.

"Then why are you cheating on me?"

That shocked her even more, I could see the horror and realization on her face. Her eyes went wide.

"What are you talking about?" She was trying to stall, trying to determine what I knew.

"Have I done you wrong in some way?" I questioned.

"No, honey. You are the best husband a woman could want." She said, trying to deflect.

"Then why?" I asked again.

I could see it on her face, she knew that she was caught, so I pulled the "kissing" picture out from where I had it hidden and placed it on the table.

"Oh my God." She said as her hand went to her face. She started crying almost immediately.

Again, I asked. "Why?"

"I'm sorry. It meant nothing. It was only sex." Was her response.

"Only Sex!!" I thought to myself. "How can it be only sex?" With that I stood, looked at her and said, "Deborah, you will rue the day you said that." Then I stormed out the door, slamming it behind me.

I turned my phone off and stayed away the whole weekend. I called off work on Monday and spoke to a lawyer about getting a divorce. The lawyer told me that if I went the divorce route I would have to give up half my 401K, half my savings, pay Deborah some amount of support, and have to sell the house to give her half. I said, "Fuck that!!"

"Sorry guys, I don't mean to swear, but that was what I said. She was the one that cheated on me, why should I have to pay?"

So that night I went home, after being gone all weekend without contacting my wife. I could tell she had been worried and crying when I stepped in the door. My heart ached to hold her, but when she hurried toward me, to hug me, I stopped her. I needed to say what I was going to say and knew that if I started hugging her, I would never be able to say what I had planned. I told her that I had visited a lawyer about a divorce.

She was crestfallen and pleaded, "No, not a divorce!"

I think she was relieved when I told her we weren't getting a divorce. At times I wonder if it would have been better for both of us if we had. The stupid thing was, I was glad when the lawyer told me the facts. It gave me an excuse, I didn't want a divorce, I still loved her. I loved her so much I hated her."

At this, tears started streaming down my face as I stood there in front of the group. I broke down.

They waited.

When I looked up all I saw was support on their faces. They had all been there in one way, shape, or form.

"When she said, 'It meant nothing. It was only sex.' I died a little. She had taken something that was private, sacrosanct, and special and made it no different than what any dog, pig, or ape would do when their hormones take over.

I told her that we would be cohabitating. I would be sleeping in the guest bedroom. I would pay the mortgage and all the necessary utilities, she would be responsible for groceries and all other bills. After only a month or so she was feeling the financial pinch. Having to pay for her own car, insurance, and all the other things she liked to spend her money on drained her paycheck.

I had never been a vindictive person prior to that, but her infidelity brought out the worst in me. My first vindictive act was to give her a glimmer of hope that Thursday. She asked if we could go out to dinner and I said, "Sure, and I'll even pay." In reality I was kind of celebrating, her lover was going to be served divorce papers that next day.

The next day, when she came home, she was mad! That pissed me off more.

My second vindictive act was to change my Facebook status to "In an Open Relationship". When she heard about it from her sister, she was again mad. I have to admit I, however, was quite pleased with myself.

My third vindictive act was to make her think that I was taking advantage of the "just sex" lifestyle.

One of the neighbors was a young widow and she needed some plumbing fixed. I was always glad to do whatever I could to help her out. When I came home, with a smile on my face, she questioned it. I told her that my snake was able to fix her plumbing problem.

Needless to say, we were not in a good place. I'm sure she thought about divorce, but with the economy starting to tank she couldn't afford to quit her job and move away, let alone be able to afford her own place.

There were other vindictive acts, one of which was having lady friends of mine post "Thank You's" to her through Facebook. I wanted her to feel like I was enjoying the "just sex" lifestyle. Actually, my wedding vows kept me from actually doing anything in regards to that. I still held to my promises.

The most vindictive thing I did wasn't even planned. The young widow I spoke about had lost her husband a couple years before and when we were talking at the New Year's Eve party, she mentioned not having a true Valentines Day since she had lost him. I told her then that I would take her out to dinner and dancing that year.

I think that hurt my wife the most. We had always made Valentines a special night for us. No matter what else was going on, that night was ours. However, that made me realize that I was still punishing her and that I needed to decide whether to change how I treated her or go ahead with the divorce.

Well, as you know, we didn't get a divorce. So, I started making an effort to show her that I still cared.

There was one hurdle though that I'm ashamed to say I still haven't gotten over. It has been 8 years since that night and I still don't know how to be truly intimate with her again. Yes, 8 years. You are probably asking yourself "Why?".

For some background I have to tell you that I have been with exactly 4 women in my life.

My first was my high school sweetheart. We started dating in our Junior year. By the Senior Prom we were ready to give ourselves to each other. We were in love and the summer was terrific. Then she went off to college and I got an apprenticeship in Machine Maintenance. Well, it didn't take long into the school year for her to realize that she didn't love me anymore. Our summer of making love was over, she was moving on.

I had two other loving relationships, lasting about 2 years each. Ultimately, though they both ended mutually, each of us knowing that what we wanted out of life didn't match up.

Then I met Deborah. We clicked. I believe I knew within the first month the she was "The One". Two years later we were married.

I tell you all this to help you to understand where I am coming from and why I have a problem, still, with the cheating my wife did.

In all my relationships it was never "just sex". It was always "making love". So, when she equated the act as "meaning nothing" and that it was "just sex" I couldn't believe it.

Is the Super Bowl "just a game" to the New England Patriot fans? Is the World Series "just baseball" to the New York Yankee fans? Is the Stanley Cup "just a trophy" to the Red Wing fans? Is the SEC Championship "just another game" to the Crimson Tide fans? Or to the Manchester United fans, how would they feel if the coach said, "It's only the World Cup."

For you non-sports people; How about if your congressperson said, "It's just the Presidency, it doesn't matter who wins." Or if your Pastor, Priest, Rabbi, or Imam said, "It's just religion, it doesn't matter which you follow."

I was getting emotional again as I said, tearfully, "How can it be "just sex".

I continued, tears in my eyes, "For the past 8 years I have not been able to make love to my wife. Oh, don't get me wrong, we have sex. I guess, though, sex is just an animalistic act. It doesn't take love, in fact, it doesn't take any emotion at all. From that point on sex with my wife was just a physical activity. An enjoyable one, to be sure, but ultimately just a physical activity.