The High Price of Kim's "New Me"

This story was written stream-of-conscience and then edited several times. Any anachronisms, continuity errors, time warps, jump-cuts or untoward flights of fancy are wholly solely my fault. I've striven for authenticity and accuracy of details, but self-editing can sometimes be self-defeating. It's fiction, but it still needs to be credible.

I actively seek constructive critique and feedback either in comments of via contact through my profile.

Rgds,

T.S.F.

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I'm going to offer up a story of how my 21-year marriage was destroyed by hubris, betrayal and dishonesty. I was 44 at the time and my wife, Kim, was 45. We were just the average, American couple out here in flyover-country with an upper middle-class income and two great kids. At that time, our son, Scott was 19 and attending college, and our daughter, Jill, was a 17-year-old, early-graduating senior. Scott favored his mother in looks and Jill is the spitting image of me, but with her mother's startling, blue-violet eyes.

Unlike in most of these stories of woe, I'm pretty average, except I've been very lucky in my job as a consulting engineer. I'm 5'11" and right at 190. I'm lean, athletic, and with my metabolism, my waist-line is only one-inch larger than when I graduated high school. I have sandy hair, blue-gray eyes and my wedding tackle has never gotten any complaints.

I met Kim at a friend's party right after she'd ended a long-term relationship when her high-school sweetheart left her at the altar for a girl he'd me at college. I'd been the loner since breaking up with my first love. Jacqui and I were attending different universities, and the long-distance relationship thing didn't work. However, I'd dated a lot of women at college, and since I am inherently a pleaser and a nice, respectful guy, I had a good reputation with the women. As a result, I had a fair amount of sex. I just never got close to anyone until I met Kim my senior year. After an intense, whirl-wind romance, we got married just after graduation. I finished with an engineering degree, and Kim had a degree in secondary-education.

Despite being 45 at the time of our problems, Kim has those genes where her face just never ages. Being a natural blonde with startling, beautiful, blue-violet eyes, and a huge, quick smile, Kim's pretty round face stayed youthful. Sure, over the years, it plumped up a bit, but you just never noticed it. Unless, you were Kim. Then, she noticed everything about her face and her body.

Kim is 5'6" and at the time weighed 154, but some weight is because she became pretty voluptuous after having two kids. She's got a nice, womanly butt, a little tummy, and 36C breasts. Some people describe this body type as 'thick' or 'curvy'. All I know is that I found her body to be sexy, and I regularly worshipped it. She'd diet, exercise, everything, and she'd yo-yo between 145-155. No amount of attention, praise or complementing her, ever convinced Kim that she wasn't fat. Kim hated her body and used to get angry with me, because I have trouble keeping weight on me! I'd hold her close and tell her that she sees only flaws, while me, the kids and everyone else who loves and idolizes her see only the beautiful woman she was. This pissed her off. Called it patronizing.

I mentioned that my personality type is to please people, especially women. Two things play into that, and the first one if the woman who took my virginity. She was 20-years older and a widow friend of my parents. She taught me to be excited by, and to revel in, giving her pleasure. This woman also made me realize that real masculinity is based in a love of and a respect for, women. Finally, she showed me how to please her orally, with coitus and with intense foreplay. Pleasing became a real turn-on for me.

Along with what Mrs. _____ taught me, having a strong-willed mother and two strong-willed sisters made me very laid-back and very deferential towards women. I have to be really pushed before I lose my temper. Kim was always what people would describe as "bossy", but I learned to go with the flow and pick my battles. Therefore, when I dug in my heels on something, Kim knew that was it; case closed. I tried to make Kim's life the best I could. Hell, I spoiled all three of them, but I especially tried to spoil my wife. Also, Kim liked to take charge, and it was usually easier to stay back and just support her. I chose my battles well.

So, here's what we had in our marriage dynamic: we had two people with different attitudes about their bodies; we had a pleaser and a person who liked to be pleased; and we had a person who was laid-back, low-key, and a type-A controlling type.

Since the rise of the Internet, virtual meetings and high-power computing, I now work out of my home as an independent consulting engineer. There's a bedroom and bath next to the garage, a mother-in-law suite, that I've converted into an office. Kim teaches at a middle-school across the freeway from our subdivision, about a 10-minute drive for her. We don't have the daily commuting pressure so many couples have, and it gave us back hundreds of hours every year that could be better spent in other pursuits.

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Before the Christmas holidays, Kim joined a health spa near her school, along with several of the other teachers. They had one of these New Year weight-loss challenges. She already did yoga, one evening a week at a neighbor's home-studio, but as always, she wanted that magic-bullet to give herself back her pre-baby figure and weight. All through the holidays, she ate like a bird, even though Kim, her sister and her mother cooked a full Christmas dinner at our place. All she'd eaten that day was turkey, natural cranberries and a green salad. She began going on my three-times-a-week, morning run, and I even cut it back from my normal 2-miles to a half-mile for her. By the time she went back to school in January, she'd do a mile with me. I'd make up that other mile later in the day.

Just after the New Year, Kim bought a new spring and summer wardrobe, which was much more colorful, stylish and yes, sexier, than what she currently wore. She also bought new winter clothes in the same styles. Plus, the sizes she bought were something she'd have to lose weight to wear. I saw this as a mixed blessing, because if Kim missed the weight target, these new, sexier clothes would be mocking reminders of her failure, but a goal is always a great motivator. I promised to help her any way I could.

The difficult conversations were those where she wanted to discuss her body, the new clothes and whether she looked any better. Remember, I loved her body and thought she was the sexiest woman on earth. So, with trepidation, I traipsed though this conversational minefield, always focusing on being encouraging, positive, supportive and loving.

As January rolled into February, Kim met her target weight and size for the clothes and overnight, a more glamorous, sexier and more self-confident Kim left the house every morning. She stuck to her diet like never before. She went to the gym with her teacher friends almost every day after school. On our morning runs, Kim got up to 1.5 miles, but she insisted on wearing her ear-buds and listening to music, so there went the conversation we'd shared before on our morning runs.

Kim started staying late at the gym during the week to take swimming classes, advanced yoga, Pilates and all kinds of other classes. She'd come home on an endorphin high and would tell us all about it and then hit the shower. Late February, she went to a special, full-day make-up seminar at one of the big hotels downtown, and Kim came home looking like a movie-star with $400 worth of new cosmetics in tow!

Those days, Jill and I usually cooked supper together, but Kim seldom ate with us, due to her enhanced diet regimen. Or, if she did make it to supper, Kim didn't eat what we were eating. Me? I encouraged her to do better, push harder. I even rubbed her feet some nights, because that was all the closeness I was getting.

We'd really started to suffer in the bedroom. Kim and I had always been very sexual, but about mid-January, we went for 3-4 times a week to - hell I could count the times on one hand - four times in a month. Then, it was just a quickie, and Kim suddenly didn't want oral sex. This is the same woman who once said, half-jokingly, that her fantasy was to strap my head between her legs until my tongue muscles stopped working. Now, that sudden one-eighty got me thinking. And not just a little worried.

When I approached her with my concerns about our intimacy, Kim said that she had a bad yeast infection and needed to see her doctor. She also said that her diet and exercise regimen left her tired. The engineer in me reminded her that her strenuous regimen began back before Christmas. She just shrugged and told me that she'd jack me off if I needed it that bad. 'Oh, stubborn Kim,' I thought to myself, 'That was a wrong answer, so unlike you, dear.' My suspicions grew.

That weekend, one of those miraculous alignments in the universe occurred, upon which events great and small often turn. The catalysts were a broken space-heater solenoid valve and a desire for a dozen, signature BBQ ribs by two brothers-in-law. The timing of which was precisely synchronized by some cosmic force. The course of my life, and others, inexorably altered.

It began early Saturday, when I went to my local hardware store for a part for my kerosene-fired space-heater. They referred me to a specialty hardware store in the city, who handles parts for that name-brand unit. On my way home from that trip, I stopped at a popular BBQ place to pick up some ribs. There was a long line, and a man departing with his order halted in sudden recognition; it was mine and Kim's brother-in-law, Brent, her sister Jan's husband. They live south of the city, and he and I rarely see each other. We chatted briefly as the line inched forward, and he finally asked, "How's Kim dealing with having that asshole Nick Smith as her boss?"

"Who? It's a familiar name but..."

He shook his head and said, "You know, the guy that dumped sis on her wedding day! Ran off with some society gal he'd me at his university!" Brent leaned closer, lowered his voice and said, "We were afraid she was going to kill him before she met you."

I tried to hide my shock and surprise, and managed, "Well, Kim has moved on. Time, you know, heals everything."

Brent said, "Yeah, Nick's Aunt, who works with our mom, mentioned that he'd moved back here and was working at sis's school. Mom and Dad asked Kim about that, and she said that her and Nick were water under the bridge." Brent paused thoughtfully and opined, "Crazy that he'd end up back here, working as assistant principal at Kim's school. I mean, what are the odds?"

'Crazy' wasn't quite the adjective flopping around in cerebral cortex.

We were interrupted by my coming to the front of the line, and we said our hurried good-byes. I was so stunned, I nearly couldn't manage, "Ah... a dozen ribs, smokey sauce. No sides, please." All the way home, I thought about it. Was this of this 'New Kim' just her way of saying, 'Eff-you! See what you lost?' If so, she would've gleefully shared that with me.

I thought, 'What ARE the odds?' A dispassionate analysis guessed about 10-million to 1. A police detective friend once told me that he didn't believe in coincidences, because the world is built on a random order. Now, I was very concerned.

People are creatures of habit. We change our routines, habits, behaviors and rituals due to circumstances. Something drove Kim to diet and exercise and stick to it as never before. Something made her relentless and dedicated. It drove her to buy a new wardrobe that she'd have to literally work herself into. New make-up. That Saturday, she was getting a new hairstyle.

Seeing Kim's new hairdo that afternoon made me realize that any normal woman who went to all the effort, time and expenditure, who loved and cared about her husband and marriage, (a.) would use her newfound beauty and confidence to enhance their marital intimacy, or (b.) would be alarmed and address the reasons for their sudden decline in intimacy. She wouldn't force her husband to ask and then give his bullshit, in-your-face attitude for asking.

Hell, she initiated sex as often as I did, and Kim had always loved me worshipping her body for hours. A person who loves sex just doesn't stop one day. No, there were red flags everywhere, blowing in a freshening breeze; I looked around to see if I was in Red Square, but I couldn't see Lenin's Tomb anywhere!

When I finally make up my mind, I act. Boyd's OODA loop. I knew something was up, and I had to find out what it was. I put the ribs in the refrigerator, because my stomach was going crazy. Any semblance of appetite was gone. On the Internet, I went to the school district website, selected Trail View Middle School, and clicked on 'Faculty'. Damn, there he was, Nicholas "Nick" Smith - Assistant Principal. This was the person who pretty much ran the day-to-day school operations. I checked his 'bio' and it mentioned his BA and MA, his wife Trudy and three kids, two in high school, one in college. It went on to state that he was hired as mid-year replacement for the previous AP, who retired in December. It went on to say that his family was finishing up the school year in Central City and would be moving here over summer break.

Being my own boss is so beneficial. Yeah, nobody in these stories actually works. They all just pull down a 6-figure salary but never seem to really work. Well, I do, but I'm as flexible as the love-child of a D.C. Lobbyist and Russian gymnast.

The first thing I needed to do was check up on her "enhanced workout" regimen and find out if she was really attending all these extra classes and events. Sunday, Kim had to "run meet some girls from the gym" and was gone from noon until nearly 9:00pm. On returning, she gave me a peck on the cheek and handed me a doggy bag from a high-end steak house across the city. "For you, sweetie. I'm soooooo grubby. See you in a minute." I thought, 'Huh? Grubby?' Kim immediately hit the shower.

I looked in the bag and saw an uneaten baked potato and a small piece of rib-eye. I whispered to myself, "We have two top-twenty steakhouses within ten miles, and you and 'some friends' drove over 30-miles?"

They say to always check the panties, and while she was showering, I checked. They were rolled inside her panty-hose in the bedroom floor, where she removed them. Barely a trace of moisture. Too clean and not consistent with 'grubby'. Either she used a sanitary pad, they used a condom and or she changed panties. No sanitary pad in the bathroom trash or in the laundry room. I went and checked her car. Nothing. Nada. Clean. Another inconsistency.

Monday was a school holiday, and it was a quiet, tense day. We were just two people sharing a house. I tried to talk to her and got monosyllabic answers. I hugged her while she was making herself a salad, and Kim just stood there until I let go. "I love you," I said, and Kim looked at me and then looked away.

I was in my office and about 7:00pm when I heard Jill and Kim arguing. Suddenly, Jill screamed and rushed into my office crying, holding her cheek. The last time I saw my daughter crying that hard was when she was a small child and fell off the monkey bars at the park. I moved Jill's hand, and there was a red hand print. I was stunned' Kim had never slapped anyone. When I looked up, Kim was standing in the doorway, mad as hell.

"Yes, I slapped her! She started on me about..." she mocked Jill, "...'What's wrong with you and Daaaaad? You are so coooold to us! Why are you always gooone?''' Kim pointed at us and hissed angrily, "I'll take that shit from you Kevin, but not from your daughter!" Kim stormed out. As I consoled Jill, Kim stopped at the garage entry with her purse and keys. "I'm going somewhere! I can't stand this fucking place!" The slamming door punctuated her dramatic exit.

When I got Jill calmed down, she blurted out, "Daddy, I think Mom's sleeping around on you!" A carbon-copy of her mother's eyes stared back at me, full of the same intensity as Kim's. All of my attempts to mollify or reassure Jill were met with angry head shakes.

"Look, baby. It'll all work out. Your mom will come around. I'll talk to her, I promise."

Kim came in about 10:30 and went straight to the shower. She'd already taken one that morning. I came to bed and just lay there, thinking. I heard Kim softly weeping, and I said, "I love you Kim. We can work this thing out... together." No response. I rose, pulled on my robe and said, "I can't sleep, so I might as well work."

I settled into my home office and found a one of these "spy-stores". All big cities have them. I located two GPS trackers and pre-ordered them, putting them on my business AMEX card. Earlier, I called my friend Larry, who is an avid bird-watcher and made arrangements to borrow his digital Nikon with a 300mm telephoto. I've helped him with projects before, and he was more than glad to do it. He said he'd drop it by in the morning on his way to work.

Tuesday morning, I made us breakfast and while we ate, I gave Kim a chance to come clean. I said, "Honey, there's something wrong with our marriage. We went from making love regularly to never even touching, cuddling or kissing. We never go out to eat or even talk. Please, darling. I love you, and I want us to work on whatever's wrong. Counselling? Long weekend? Anything. But please, let's talk before it's too late!"

She stared at me for several awkward seconds. Those intense, beautiful, blue-violet eyes, bored right into my soul. Her beautiful make-up, her new hairdo, her fresh wardrobe screamed 'guilty' at me. "Goddam Kevin. This is the new, prettier, thinner, sexier ME, and you are jealous, aren't you?" Her anger grew, "Say it!"

"Jealous? Hell no, Kim. But darling, just tell me where did WE go, US go? I love the new you, I want to embrace it, hold it, go on walks with it, kiss it, buy it dinner, make love to it, grow old with it, but you are simply no longer here, with me!" I said as tenderly as I could.

She ignored my question, obfuscating and deflecting, instead. "Do I now make you insecure?" she asked icily.

"That's bullshit and you know it!" My voice trembled in frustration and anger. "Kim, you won't answer the goddamn question about our marriage, because you WON'T ANSWER IT! I didn't stop being ME all of a sudden, so what is going on?" I was angry, and she knew she'd pushed me too far.

Kim looked peeved, poured out her coffee and cleaned her plate into the garbage. She came back to the table, leaned her elbows on it and flipped up her skirt. She pulled aside her panties and said, "Okay, baby! Fuck me. Be quick, I only have about 10 minutes!"

"My gawd, Kim, is that what our relationship has become? No honest conversation? Just this lame... dramatic bullshit?" I simply walked away to my office.

As she departed, Kim yelled, "I have swimming tonight after workout, be back around nine!" If I'd acknowledged that, it would've been something I'd regret.

Larry dropped off the camera and we chatted for a bit. I finished a project and got it ready to FED-EX, answered some emails and got two job quotes ready to FED-EX. I stopped by the FED-EX drop-off and then fought the tail-end of rush hour into the city. My first stop was the spy-store, and then I went by to see my lawyer, Gerry Olden. We'd known each other since grade school, and I explained what I thought was going on with Kim.

Gerry called over one of the women in the firm, Kelli Boscombe, who was a divorce lawyer. She told me that since the state was a no-fault divorce state, everything would be split 50/50 but with provable adultery things might go better for me. Jill would turn eighteen before any divorce would be final, so kids weren't an issue. I took her card, and before she left, Ms. Boscombe said, "Proof of adultery needs to be solid and incontrovertible. The more evidence the better."