Vetting a Marriage Ch. 01

I write for my own enjoyment, and possibly for a few others. If you are reading this as a way of dealing with your anger at your own situation, I am sorry for your pain, but I suggest you go elsewhere. Those who demand either BTB or RAAC will surely be disappointed. Also, there is nothing even close to exciting sexual activity described here.

*

What do I do now?

I just found out my wife of 35 years was unfaithful. I am angry, hurt, sad, and heartbroken.

My name is Martin Erinson, and my friends call me Marty. I am 61 years old, and currently teach Political Science and Ethics at the University of Maryland. I started out teaching Political Science at Towson State University, just north of Baltimore, when -- at the suggestion of my students -- I ran for Congress. Served six years as a congressman, then two terms as a Senator from Maryland. After 18 years on Capitol Hill, I grew tired of the silliness that passes for political discourse these days, so I sat back for a few years, writing and lecturing. Then I ran for governor. Served two terms. So, after 26 years in elective office, I am back doing my first love -- teaching.

My wife is Emily. We met at a party when she was a freshman at Wellesley and I was a junior at Amherst, and have been together ever since. While I am altogether average in appearance, 5'9," 180lb, with gray hair and have never been anything to write home about, Emily is strikingly attractive. Even at 58 years old she makes me wonder how I managed to find someone so beautiful, so appealing in personality and grace. She has gained quite a but of weight over the last few years, but is still beautiful to me. I think most of what I have done in my life I have accomplished because she has been by my side.

At this moment I am driving home to Annapolis from the White House. That's where I found out my wife cheated -- while sitting in the West Wing, within a ten second walk from the Oval Office. Here's how it happened.

Ten Days Ago:

It was a Tuesday morning, just after 10am. I was sitting in my office on the campus of the University of Maryland in College Park, just outside Washington, D.C. I was prepping for a lecture on the role of moral philosophy in US foreign policy in the Jefferson Administration, when my cell rang. It was my sister, Linda. "That's unusual," I say out loud. Not that my sister would call, as we talk at least once a week. It's unusual that she would call in the middle of the morning in the middle of the week. My sister has a very time-consuming, and important job. She is the chief of staff to President Marsha Lawrence -- the first female chief of staff in history, to the first female president of the United States. To say that she is usually too busy to talk to me at 10am on a Tuesday morning is an understatement.

"Good morning, dear heart. What's up?"

"Morning, Marty. Listen, I'm calling from the office. This is business. Have you heard about Secretary Coles?"

"Education Secretary Bob Coles? No, what's going on?"

"He is stepping down today. Press conference in a few. It's his wife."

"The cancer has gotten worse?"

"Yes."

"That's a shame. Bob and Karen are good people."

"Well, here's the deal. You are on the short list. The President wants you to seriously consider it."

"Lin -- I'm happy where I am. Eighteen years in Washington was enough for me. I really don't want to come back in."

"I know, I've heard your 'I feel like I need a shower every time I set foot on Capitol Hill' soliloquy too many times. But here's the deal. We are serious about getting significant higher education reform, and you are the person to do it. You left Congress with a lot of friends and no enemies, and no one does that. You can work both sides of the aisle, and that's what it is going to take. Marty, your President needs you."

"Good god, Lin, I can hear the theme song from "The West Wing" playing in the background. We both know the political atmosphere in the House and the Senate is a mess, and the opposition party is bound and determined to keep you folks to one term -- so they are going to fight you on everything. You are less than a year from the mid-term election, which means nothing will get done until next January, and then the next presidential election cycle starts again. I really think President Lawrence is the right person to do this, but it is going to be a real battle, and I don't know if I am up for it."

"Well, at least spend some time thinking about it. Talk to Emily, she knows you better than anyone -- and she thinks you are getting antsy for a challenge."

"So, you and my wife have been plotting to get me out of the house?"

"Hey, I never had a sister, so your wife is the closest thing -- and we stick together."

"Okay, I'll think about it."

"That's all I can ask. You will be hearing from the FBI in a few. The Education Secretary does not demand top security clearance, but you do have to be vetted. Who knows what they might find?"

"Trust me," as I went into my best Bill Clinton voice, "I was at that party, but I did not inhale."

"Okay, Bubba. Whatever you say. I've got to go. Talk to you soon. Love you."

"Love you too, Sis."

This Morning:

The phone rang at 8:15am, just as I pulled onto campus. It's Friday, so I don't have classes, just a departmental meeting and conferences with two doctoral students. My plan is to get some grading done. It's my sister again.

"Hi Lin. What's shakin'?"

"Marty, can you come to my office? We need to talk."

"Okay. When?"

"ASAP. How soon can you get here?"

"With traffic, I can be there by 9:30-9:45."

"Okay, see you. Bye."

I ran upstairs to my office, changed into the suit I keep there on the off-chance I get called to an important meeting -- like in the White House, which had never happened before -- and scooted out. As the crow flies, it should take 35 minutes, but this is a Friday morning rush hour in the Nation's Capital. I would be lucky if I can make it in less than 90 minutes.

I had been to the White House probably 10-15 times, during my tenure as a congressman and senator. However, in the 18 months since Linda has worked for the President, I hadn't been to the West Wing or seen her office. I came through the gates, identification checked, and was ushered to her office. I sat down in a small room, across from a receptionist. Linda came out, gave me a hug, and we went into her office.

She is all business.

"Marty, have a seat. We have a problem. I just received the report from the FBI, and they found something."

"Okay. What are we talking about?"

"It's Emily. She was...is involved in something that I'm pretty sure you don't know about. Back in the early 1980s, when you were finishing your Ph.D. at Hopkins and teaching at Towson State, Emily was involved in a partner swapping group."

"What do you mean by that? I don't understand."

"The agents, in doing your background check, they interviewed some former friends of you and Emily. The men didn't say much, and they don't have to. It's not a criminal investigation. But the women were more comfortable. Seems they thought we knew more than we did, and they tried to explain things to make it look better for Emily."

"Lin, I still don't know what you are talking about."

"Marty -- Emily had sex with other men. With the husbands of these women. It was like a club. According to what the agents could ascertain, Emily had sex with a Brad Quarters, a Scott Malden, and a Tom House. According to the women they interviewed, this happened in the spring of 1984. Each time it also involved one of the women, a ménage a trios. Is that right? Do they have to be living together for it to really be a ménage a trios?"

"What in the world? Linda, what are you talking about? They were all friends of ours. I can't believe this."

"The women they interviewed were very clear, very explicit, and all basically told the same story. It really seems they wanted to make clear that Emily participated for a very short time, only once with each man, always with one of the other women also involved, and that it was quite clear Emily didn't enjoy it. It's all here in the report."

"I just don't believe this."

"Marty, I'm so sorry. Here, you can have the report. I only read portions, so there may be more info by reading all of it. I have been assured from the director that there is no other copy of this report. No one at the FBI has any of this."

"Oh yeah, sure. I'm sure there are copies, and we both know the bureau is like a sieve. This will surely get out."

"The director has explicitly promised me it won't."

"Lin, I've got to get out of here. This just blew up my world."

"Marty, I never thought I would say this to you, but for once I have to... don't do something stupid. This was 30 years ago. Emily has been a wonderful wife."

"Or so we thought. I'll talk to you later."

I gave my sister a hug and began to leave. As I got to the door, she said, "Marty, I know you know this, but you are no longer on the list for Education Secretary. The president says she's sorry."

"Yeah, thanks. I'll be in touch."

I decided to go home, rather than back to campus. I knew Emily would not be home, as she had a full day teaching. I had at least six hours before I would confront her with my knowledge of her infidelity and life of lies, deception and betrayal.

As I arrived at the house, I went into the den, and sat at my desk. Not sure why -- habit, I guess -- but I took a yellow highlighter and went through the FBI report line by line, as if I was grading a student essay. There was a lot more detail here than what my sister reported. The agents had interviewed four women and one man:

Sylvia Malden, who used to be Sylvia Quarters until her marriage to Brad fell apart when she found him in bed with her best friend Vanessa, and then Sylvia married Scott Malden;

Vanessa Quarters, who had an affair with Brad Quarters, divorced her husband Phil Fine and married Brad;

Judy Swanson, who used to be married to Scott Malden, but she had an affair with her boss, and she divorced Scott and married her boss;

and Becky House, whom I guess is still married to Tom.

They also interviewed Phil Fine, who had not remarried after his wife divorced him. Based upon the report, Phil had been part of this "swapping" club, but was the only one of the four men who had not had sex with Emily.

Linda was correct, all of the women interviewed described Emily's participation in the same way -- only once with each man, always with another woman involved, and described it as obvious that Emily did not enjoy the act.

I was almost as confused after reading the report as I was before I looked at it. I took a break, got an iced tea -- I didn't want alcohol to confuse my thinking any more than it was -- and went back over the highlighted sections. There were several things that didn't make sense. Also, there was one section of the report, separate from the incidents 30 years ago, that could not be ignored and likely spelled the end of our marriage.

As I sat, I remembered our marriage in the first years. When all this happened, we had only been married a few years. While we were truly in love, our sex life was less than satisfactory. Emily had been raised in a very conservative family, and had saved herself for marriage. I was also a virgin, due more to lack of opportunity than a holy motivation for purity. She enjoyed the cuddling, but never enjoyed the actual act. I assumed it was me, and worked hard to simulate her orally, but she never had an orgasm. She would try to satisfy me, but never liked giving blow jobs. It was frustrating in the extreme. This is the time when she cheated.

It took us several years to conceive each of our two children, due to Emily's discomfort with intercourse. During this time, I thought about the possibility of going elsewhere to have sex, just because it was obviously uncomfortable for her and thus infrequent. On more than one occasion she suggested that perhaps we just should give up on intercourse, and she would focus on pleasing me with her mouth and hand. We had intercourse only during the time in the month when she was likely to conceive. The stress really put a strain on our marriage. Fortunately, after our second child was born, Emily had a surgical procedure which, while eliminating the possibility for more children, took away the pain of intercourse. For the last 25 years, she has seemed to enjoy sex, often having multiple orgasms. However, she has never wanted it as much as I have. Even at 61, I want sex every day, while she acquiesces to being intimate with me only a few times a month. It is the least fulfilling aspect of our marriage and, due to the wonderful wife she is in every other area, I have learned to live with it.

As I waited for Emily to come home, I vacillated between absolute rage -- the strongest anger I have ever felt in my life -- and overwhelming sadness. I paced the floor, shouting, "How the hell could she do this?!"

I knew I could not attack her with anger, as that would just lead to her shutting down, and I would not get the information I wanted. But to be honest, there was nothing she could say to me that would change my mind. I was leaving, and our marriage was over.

Just after 6pm, I heard Emily come in the door. "Marty, I'm home."

"I'm in the den."

I knew she would walk into the kitchen, see that I had not started preparing supper, and then come into the den to see if I wanted to go out to eat. Emily was a creature of habit.

She stood at the door, "Hi honey, what do you want to do about supper?"

"Emily, come in and have a seat. We need to talk."

"Okay honey, but I'm really hungry."

"Supper can wait. This is important." I'm sure she heard a tone in my voice. I couldn't hide it.

She sat down on the couch, assuming I would sit down beside her, as I normally would. I choose the wingback chair. I sat down, but did not move back, keeping my back straight and both feet on the floor. I knew if I took any kind of relaxed posture, my emotions would betray me and I would lose it.

"Emily, I have several questions to ask you. I need you to answer truthfully and accurately. "

"Okay," she said with a quizzical expression. "Marty, is something wrong?"

"Yes Emily, something is very wrong, and has been for a long time. As I said, please answer each question truthfully. And please know that the answer to these questions will decide the rest of our lives."

"Marty, you are scaring me."

"I hope so. One other thing -- please know that I know more than you likely think I know. So, here is the first question... Since the day we got engaged to be married, how many men, other than me, have you had sex with?"

"Martin, what kind of question is that?"

"Just answer the fucking question! Since the day you promised to be my wife, how many men have you had sex with?"

"Marty, I love you. I have loved you forever. Why are you asking me this?"

"Emily, just answer the question."

Emily looked down. "I have been with three other men, a long time ago. I'm sorry, Marty. It was a mistake."

"A mistake is when you overdraw the checking account. A mistake is when you burn the roast. FUCKING SOMEONE OTHER THAN YOUR HUSBAND IS NOT A MISTAKE! IT IS PURPOSEFUL BETRAYAL!"

"I'm so sorry, Marty. I'm so ashamed."

I took a deep breath. "Okay, next question. Who did you fuck?"

Emily cringed with the word. She was not used to me cursing. "Brad Quarters, Scott Malden, and Tom House. I'm so sorry." She started sobbing.

I handed her a glass of water and a tissue.

"I will wait a moment, and give you a chance to compose yourself. I'm sure after 30 years you thought your acts of absolute disrespect and betrayal were well hidden and you could go along mocking me with me never knowing."

"No honey, it was never that..."

"IT WAS THAT, AND MORE!"

I waited.

"Alright, next question. I want to know why, and I want to know specifics. I want to know everything. Why you did it, when you did it, what you did?"

"Do we have to?"

"YES, WE HAVE TO! EVERYTHING! I HAVE A RIGHT TO KNOW WHY MY WIFE BETRAYED ME!"

Emily took a deep breath. "It was back when we were living in Towson. You were finishing your dissertation and teaching at Towson State, and I was teaching at Dulaney Valley High School. I was in a book club with some women: Judy, Vanessa, Becky and Sylvia. I don't know if you remember. Anyway, they spent less time talking about the book, and more time griping about their husbands. They had all been married longer than we had, and they all complained about how bad their husbands were. All except me -- I told them that you were wonderful. They made fun of me for that. Well, then they started talking about sex. Vanessa said Phil was boring and horrible in bed, but the others said that sex was the only thing their husbands did well. Then they asked me. I'm sorry honey -- but you remember how sex wasn't very good for me in the beginning. I told them that, and they just perked right up. I became the identified patient of the group. They were bound and determined to tell me how to have a better sex life. I remember one night, Vanessa started talking about how bad Phil was in bed, and then they all looked at me. Sylvia said, 'Emily, the reason you don't enjoy sex is that Marty's probably not very good. After all, he is such a nice guy, and that's the same problem Vanessa has with Phil. Nice guys make lousy lovers. That's why Judy and I have great sex -- our husbands are assholes in every other way, but they have big cocks and know how to use them.' Then, I think it was Vanessa, said, 'What if we could get Scott or Brad to fuck Emily?' I stood up and said, 'You girls are crazy,' and I left.

"The next month, when we met for book club, they told me that after I left, they came up with a plan. We would swap partners. Each of us would sleep with the other's husbands. I thought they were kidding at first, but they were serious. They wouldn't stop talking about it, and so I got up and left early. I wanted nothing to do with this.

"Three weeks later, a week before our next scheduled meeting, I got a call from Becky House. She wanted to meet for coffee. We get together and she tells me what has been going on. They have started swapping! They want you and me to join. Obviously, I said no. Becky says that they thought you might not be willing to do this, so they came up with a plan. I can participate with them, as a way to find out if the problem is you or me. Honey, I know it sounds so stupid, but I was desperate to solve this problem for us, and I was also young and naïve. I was only what, 25 years old, and these women were older. I thought they might be able to help us. I was really stupid, but I said yes. I told them I would do it, with stipulations -- that it was a threesome with another woman, so I would never be alone with one of the other men, and that I wouldn't touch or kiss their penis, and that it would be from behind, so I wouldn't be looking at them. I thought this way it wouldn't be like it was cheating. Becky said everyone would be glad I was joining them, and it would really help us.

"So, I did it. The next week I went, and they told me I would be with Brad and Judy. When we went into the bedroom, I just focused on Judy. I tried not to look at or touch Brad. You know I played with women in college, and I do enjoy that. Judy and I kissed and licked each other, and she got me very excited and wet. Then she laid on the bed, and I began to kneel over her, playing with her. That's when I felt Brad behind me. He put it in me. I never saw him. It was not good at all. It hurt, but he didn't care. He just kept shoving it in. Finally, it was over. I got up, went into the bathroom and threw up. It was horrible. I knew then it was a terrible mistake. I had cheated on you. I screamed at them that I would never do this again. Honey, I'm so ashamed. I'm so sorry."