165 comments/ 139647 views/ 79 favorites An Average Descent By: Jidoka I was staring at my computer screen when she walked into the den. She had been coming home from work late for a long time. Today was no different. It was almost 10:00. The kids and I had already had dinner and finished homework. They had been in bed for almost an hour. They hadn't even asked about their mother or why she wasn't home. That was a recent development and it saddened me. I had spent the last hour reviewing our finances. During the last two years things had gotten dramatically worse. Our income was way down, not that my wife had noticed. She was still spending freely, as if we didn't have a care in the world. I had just finished paying the latest round of bills. We could maybe make it another couple of months. I had been reviewing my life plan, too. Maybe I had made a mistake. I had spent the last two years staring at a ticking time bomb, wondering if it was ever going to detonate. I always figured it would at some point but I was starting to have my doubts. I don't know how long she stood there staring at me. I was getting lost in my own thoughts more and more often lately. Losing track of time was the byproduct. Finally, with her arms crossed and the all too familiar look of disdain on her face, she spoke. "Michael, I want a divorce." I am not sure what my feelings were at that particular moment. My spirit was so overburdened with self doubt and loathing, I was almost numb to any new emotions. It really wasn't really all that funny but I still found myself trying to stifle a laugh. My wife of 17 years had just told me we were over, that all we had built together would finally be torn apart. I hadn't felt this particular emotion in a long time, and it almost made me smile. Relief. I looked at her for just a moment, allowing myself a final journey to our happier times. Then it was back to reality. "OK." *** I was a better programmer than a manager. Unfortunately, programmers get promoted to project leaders, then to department chiefs and then to senior management. That is how I ended up as the senior manager of product development. It was just a fancy title for a salesman. The reality was, at the time, I was the most qualified for the position. I had birthed our flagship product line almost by myself. I had nursed it through infancy, helped it grow during six successive upgrades. I knew our product best. When customers had questions, I had answers. When our staff had problems, I knew how to fix them. Add a new hairstyle and overpriced suit, and I sure looked the part. The increased salary and benefits that came with my promotions were nothing to sneeze at. I would say I was mostly content with my job, but I loved programming and missed it a great deal. In my position I never had the chance to do it. There were just too many meetings and phone calls to allow myself the luxury of jumping back into lines of code. I was forced to watch a new batch of young, wild eyed kids trying to one up each other with their latest developments. I won't lie. Being the boss was worth it, but I always wished that my job duties were a bit different. It was no surprise when I was fired from Chicago Technology Solutions. If I was in charge of me, I would have done the same thing. My attendance at meetings was sporadic at best and too many deadlines had been missed. At the time, I wasn't trying to get fired but I really didn't make any attempt to keep my job at CTS. I had been in a funk for a long time. It took me almost three months to get over my original depressed state and try and move forward. But that had been a miserable failure, too. It took me another month to find a solution to the predicament I found myself in, at least one that I could live with. I think I would have lost my mind had if I didn't have the kids. They had an unblemished routine that helped me get my life back on a positive track. Breakfast, school, snack, homework, dinner, bed. Breakfast, school, snack, homework, dinner, bed. That was my mantra and it helped me find my way. I dove headfirst into being a stay at home dad. I took over all the housekeeping and taxi duties. The kids genuinely enjoyed my increased presence in the house. That allowed me to realize I had some value. I wasn't completely worthless. If my wife sensed this change in our family dynamic, she never mentioned it. I am almost positive that she didn't even notice. *** I met Jennifer Reilly at a fraternity mixer. I had almost decided not to go. I had joined the fraternity for the doors it would open after graduation not to attend parties while in school. I figured I was going to need all the help I could get. My grades were outstanding, so that wasn't a worry. However, everything else about me was just average. Height, weight, looks, personality. Average. My name, Michael, was the most popular name from 1961 to 1988. Completely average. To be honest, when I was away from a computer, there really wasn't anything all that unique about me. Dates? I had a few. Relationships? Well, not so much. I was getting pretty good at keeping myself company even during my senior year of college. Until I saw Jennifer Reilly. Jennifer was almost as average as me. I realized that average on a woman looked a whole lot better. She was a bit of a wallflower. I watched her for quite some time before I could gather up enough courage to speak to her. Our initial meeting was brief and quiet, but introductions were made. In the next few weeks we met for coffee and shared study time at the library. We had been talking for almost two months before our first real date. From that date on it was the most fantastic time of my life. Fifteen years of bliss. Our courtship was short, our engagement was even shorter. We were married and at home in our first apartment in Chicago soon after graduation. We shared a morning and evening train to and from our first jobs. We were barely making it financially, but we were in it together. We had nearly everything in common. Family histories, dating experiences, shared interests and goals. Where we didn't match, we meshed. If there was something that I didn't do well, Jennifer did. If she had a shortcoming, it was one of my strengths. I was better at managing our shared finances. Jennifer was better at keeping our social and family schedules. We worked together, and our lives quickly started to improve. We were both promoted several times over the next few years. Our friend group expanded a great deal. We were able to save money for our first home purchase and still travel and entertain ourselves. Our sex life had started off much like our relationship...slowly. We held hands and kissed from our first date on. We moved on to heavy petting when we realized that we were exclusive. Our virginities lasted until the night of our engagement. From there our passion grew with our shared success. Jennifer quit her job after eight years when our son, Jacob, was born. Our daughter Emily followed a little over a year later. Yes, I know their names were, in fact, the most popular names when they were born. It was sort of a family tradition. We bought a three bedroom house in the suburbs with room for a dog. We purchased a family sedan and a minivan. In general our lives had shaped up nicely. Two kids, a pet, a house, and two cars. Completely average. I didn't think it was possible for me to be any happier. I was wrong. My promotion to manager happened shortly after Emily's first birthday. After that it was almost like I was being rewarded for years of being ignored as one of the average masses and not complaining. Like I said, my new salary was nothing to sneeze at and we didn't. I had flexible scheduling, working from home most days, heading to the office for staff and management team meetings. They say that money can't buy you happiness. I believe that is true. What it can by you is stylish clothes and personal grooming, better healthcare, a newer home in a better neighborhood and confidence. I went from average to slightly above average. My wife went from average, which I thought was beautiful, to slightly above average, which I thought was fucking HOT. Our sex life which I always felt was good, hit a new high. We travelled better and were able to spend time with the children all while saving more and more money for retirement. When Emily started elementary school, Jennifer decided she wanted to go back to work part-time. She quickly found a job that she thought she would like at a start-up marketing firm. She would head to her office when she took the kids to school. She ended her day when it was time to pick them up. It was the icing on the cake. We didn't need her salary, so we were able to save it. By my projections by the time the kids were finishing college, we would be able to retire and live a very comfortable life. *** I found out my wife was cheating on me by accident three months before our 15th wedding anniversary. It was my birthday. I actually found the evidence two days before my birthday, I just didn't know it. It took me a few weeks to piece it all together. I didn't make much of the fact that my wife wanted to take a more active role in her new job. It meant that she would work a few more hours a week and I would have to pick up the kids from school. But that didn't really affect my schedule at all and I was glad to do it. When, after about three months, I noticed that she was often distracted I asked her about it. She said she was trying to find her stride at the office and was a little stressed. I decided to take over some more responsibilities at home, to relieve some of her burden. When our passionate sex life took a noticeable dip, we talked about it. She said she was getting older and didn't need to 'fuck like a rabbit'. It was the first time I had ever heard her say the word 'fuck' but things improved. Our sex life did pick up for a few weeks, then dropped off again. I was hesitant to mention anything again for fear of an argument. I was almost at my wits end, when I found the present. The weather had cooled considerably and I was looking for one of my sweaters. I had taken on laundry duty and had more than once mixed up which closet the clothes should go in. I was shuffling through sweaters on her closet shelf when I saw it behind several old shoeboxes. It was hard to miss. The pink box and white ribbon from the lingerie store was unmistakable. The card addressed to 'Lover' got me excited. A small war of thoughts broke out in my head for a moment. Should I look, should I wait? I decided to look. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to wait until my birthday to ravage my wife after reading the card. 'Please excuse the packaging that this gift came in. You can unwrap your real present on your birthday when I am wearing what is inside the box. Then you can have my last virginity. Love always, Jennifer.' I had always wanted to try anal sex. We had never moved past some mild finger probing. I was hard as a rock just thinking about it. For the next 48 hours I stepped up my game. I made sure to greet her at the door with flowers, gave her a foot massage and I made her favorite dinner. Her reaction was not what I expected. It was like she was tolerating my affection. The day of my birthday, I made sure that the kids finished their homework early. I didn't want any problems interrupting my gift. I was a little surprised when Jennifer was home late from work. I was even more confused when she asked me what was for dinner. But I was willing to play along to get my surprise. I said we should go out for pizza. The kids cheered and we were off. Michael conspired with our waitress and just before we left I was serenaded with Happy Birthday by the wait staff. I thought I saw surprise in my wife's eyes, but she quickly recovered. "I'll give you your present later, Michael," she said as she smiled. The drive home was tense for me. I almost got in an accident. The 15 minutes waiting for the kids to get ready for bed was brutal, but the 15 minutes after that, waiting for them to fall asleep, was excruciating. Fortunately, Jennifer was back from an emergency trip to the store for milk shortly after they were asleep. When I arrived at the bedroom door, Jennifer wasn't in the room. I went to sit on the bed. A few moments later she walked out of the bathroom in a full length flannel nightgown, face devoid of make-up, with her hair in a ponytail. I was getting a little frustrated with the games at this point. When was I going to get my present? She slid into bed and under the covers. She reached to turn off her bedroom lamp, then stopped. "Oops...I almost forgot." She opened a drawer on her nightstand and pulled out a small square box, wrapped in the multicolor balloon paper we had used for Michael's last birthday, and handed it to me. "Happy Birthday, dear." And that was it. She rolled over, shut off her light and went to sleep. I was too shocked to even open her gift. My depression started in full force the next day. I replayed the day's events over and over in my mind and could not figure what I had done that had so clearly put a damper on our evening. I was at a total loss. I stewed in my own despair for almost two weeks. That damn present was almost blinking pink at me announcing my failure. I have heard all the clichés. The husband is the last to know, etc. I have to be honest and say that I was legitimately clueless. The thought of Jennifer cheating on me was so foreign that I never, not once, considered it was possible. But it was the first thing that popped into my head when she called home 13 days after my birthday announcing she would be late getting home. "It's Allen's 30th birthday and the staff is taking him out to celebrate. I might be pretty late." I don't remember responding to her, or walking to the bedroom closet, but I do remember looking at the empty space where 'my' present once sat. I also remember the horrible pain in my chest and throwing up in the bathroom. For longer than I care to admit, I thought I might be having a heart attack, and for a few moments I hoped that it was true and that I would soon be dead. Allen Henderson was Jennifer's boss, a slick, sleazy looking advertising executive who was a few years younger than both Jennifer and me. I had only met the man once, and I remembered not liking him very much, mostly because he seemed so disingenuous anytime he was speaking. It was Emily that brought me back to my senses. "Are you OK, daddy?" It took a few seconds before my eyes focused on my daughter who was hovering over me on the verge of tears. "I am fine sweetheart. Daddy just ate something that didn't agree with his stomach. I'll be out in just one minute. I just need to clean myself up." I did eventually get myself out of the bathroom, though I don't remember much after that. I do remember grabbing my dusty bottle of scotch. Based on the headache I had the next morning, I knew that I had thrown down several glasses. I had no idea when Jennifer had returned home. When I found her in the kitchen feeding the children the net morning, she didn't look like anything out of the ordinary had happened. She was just going through her routine. It was the slight wince I saw in her face when she sat down to eat that killed any love that I had left. It was very subtle but it was there. I wish that I could write about how I confronted my cheating bitch of a wife. But I didn't. I was just devastated. It was all I could do to move. And it didn't get any better for several weeks. I was a zombie. As I recognized each day that my wife was going through the motions at home without a care in the world, I felt worse and worse. I thought I had hit rock bottom. It took me until the weekend of my 15th wedding anniversary to shake myself and decide to take action. I probably wouldn't have done anything. I was being a wimp. I knew it. I would like to say that I was in shock. There probably some technical psychological terminology for my behavior. If my dad were alive, he would have just said I was being a pussy. He would have been right. It wasn't until my wife announced that she had to travel for work conference that the fog lifted from my thoughts. She would be gone during our anniversary. I am not sure why this mattered to me. It was just one more level of disrespect. But it hurt, mostly because she gave no indication that she was even aware of the date. After drinking myself to sleep on the night of our anniversary, I woke up angry. I had hit my limit. I called my lawyer and made an appointment. I was going to end this charade. I was certain my life couldn't get any worse. I was wrong. The take no prisoners attitude I entered my attorney's office with was replaced with a crushing disbelief. I knew divorces could be difficult. I thought that my wife cheating on me would work in my favor. Instead my lawyer punched hole after hole in my case. I had no evidence of an affair. If I had evidence it wouldn't really matter. My wife would be entitled to a 50/50 split of our assets. I had no evidence of my wife being an unfit parent. My best hope would be shared custody. Our income disparity also worked in my wife's favor. I would pay spousal maintenance and child support. My wife would likely be granted primary custody and be entitled to remain in the house for the good of the children. My wife was a cheating whore and I was the screwed buffoon. I went from depressed to distraught. My whore even asked me about it after a few weeks. "You really don't look good Michael. Is something bothering you?" "No, dear." At least she pretended to care. Me, I just wandered through life. Then I got fired. I didn't know it at the time, but it was the best thing that ever happened to me. *** It was the evening news that gave me a glimmer of hope. I was watching depressing story after depressing story, it seemed to coincide quite nicely with my mood. But then there it was. A major east coast employer had gone bankrupt. Former employees were scrambling to get final paychecks and were worried about their pensions. I actually felt like some people might be in a worse position than I was. Then the talking head came back on screen with his analysis. The employees would likely win a judgment against their former employer, but it wouldn't matter. There was nothing left. All of the money was gone. It didn't take much for me to connect the dots and form the basics of a plan. My wife couldn't take what wasn't there. We would have nothing, so we would split nothing. Sure I would be screwing myself at the same time, but I was already going to lose half anyway, did I really care about the rest? My plan started out simple enough. I was unemployed and I wasn't going to look for work. I was going to spend our life savings until there was nothing left. I admit it was a harebrained idea. Even I didn't think it would work. But it was something I could cling to. *** Two years is a long time. It was painfully boring for me when I was alone, which was most of the time. I realized that Jennifer really had been the life blood of our friend group. As she distanced herself from me, I found myself without any truly strong friendships. I was an only child. Both of my parents had died young, dad from a heart attack, mom from cancer. I was truly alone. I know a blow by blow accounting of my time would be boring for you to read about. I can sum up my life easily by saying it was dreadful. For two years my children were the only thing right in my life. I had never before spent money on anything extraneous. I was still keeping receipts for everything I purchased. I started making small weekly cash withdrawals and setting the money aside. It occurred to me after about two months that we weren't spending money fast enough to make any difference. Apparently, I was really good at saving money and not so good at spending it. So I upped my game and made some adjustments to my initial plan. An Average Descent I enrolled in an executive MBA program. The university was pricey but local. In one shot I spent almost $120,000. I paid cash for a new luxury SUV, $60,000 out the window. I fully funded educational savings accounts for the kids. That took another $260,000. I spent thousands on a new wardrobe and I started taking larger and larger cash withdrawals twice a week. I would drive the kids to school, hit the bank and head to the lakeshore. I never really gambled the money I took with me. A few bucks here and there so that I was at least entertaining myself. I spent enough to show that I had spent the day in the casino, including receipts for lunch and snacks and parking. The bulk was going to the wall safe in our garage. My personal post divorce war chest in case things got ugly. My other expensive purchase? Full time private surveillance on my wife and her lover. I asked for the works, video, pictures, a daily diary of events. I am embarrassed to say how much that cost me. You may be wondering if my wife noticed any of my spending habits. I would say yes, except for the 'gambling'. I had to tell her about my transfer of money to the kids because I needed her signature on the custodial accounts. She saw my car and clothes. She never said anything about them. I am sure she thought I was working and that we were still living on easy street. She made a few purchases too and I never said a word. I often did wonder who was getting the benefit of her more frequent lingerie purchases. It just never was a topic we discussed. We were cordial to each other and interacted daily. It was like we were each tolerating a roommate that we didn't particularly like. Sex? Don't even go there. The time with my children was the highlight of my existence. I did my best to support any of their interests. We worked through home work together and played games. We went to parks, took bike rides, and went to movies. Since I had assumed the role of house chef, they seemed to be interested in helping me. I found some easy recipes and let them do just that. Jennifer was usually around at some point in the week. I didn't exclude her from our family time, but I made no effort to include her. If she was around and wanted to participate, she just did without a word from me one way or the other. I got a weekly report of my wife's activities. I thought that she was just banging her boss. But it was really a few guys from her office. A few months later the company's clients made their way to her dance card. Did it hurt? Not really. I already thought she was a whore. That I now had proof really didn't move me at all. It was not a very interesting read. The videos were like really poorly directed porn. In some ways it did make me feel better, but not much. It was clear that Allen Henderson wasn't a very skilled lover, though he had the opportunity to spread his gifts among several different women. That kind of surprised me. I had assumed, based on her gift, that he and my whore were in some kind of relationship, but in reality they were more like fuck buddies. He simply rutted my wife with his slightly below average penis and she let him. It was the same with most of the other six men who fucked my wife. There was one client though, a small nerdy looking guy sporting the glasses and pocket protector to solidify his status as a geek, that really let Jennifer have it. His cock was massive and he wasted no time pounding her vagina before pulling out and shoving his dick in her mouth so she could swallow his load. The pictures and video were too grainy to tell if she enjoyed it, but to me it looked rather painful. It did occur to me after about a year, that I hadn't had an erection or an orgasm since my journey had started. It didn't really bother me, it was just one more thing to pile on my shitty existence. I stopped the surveillance after a year. I had seen enough and it was really more of a chore to review the garbage that was sent my way. Despite my classes, kids and 'gambling' I had a lot of free time. So I decided to concentrate on my life after marriage which I assumed would be coming at some point. I started a new exercise regime. I had always been in decent shape, nothing to write home about of course. Over that time I did make some decent gains on my bench press and running stamina. I think that huge muscles and good looks are mostly genetic and I clearly did not fit into either category. However, personally I was really pleased with the way I looked. I started researching the latest news on my former industry. I figured I would need a job at some point. A year away from the madness had left me farther behind than I thought. I spent a few hours each day learning about the latest technologies and software packages. I took a particular interest in my old company CTS. It appeared they were stagnant. They were definitely not losing market share and revenues were stable, but they weren't gaining ground. In the technology business if you are standing still you are losing. I also spent a considerable amount of time researching divorces. Oh I did indulge some time to devising new and evil plans for screwing with my hopefully soon to be ex-wife. However, the majority of my time was spent learning how divorce affected children. I had already worked through most of my pain and the children had been a big part of that. I wanted to make sure that when their transition came that I was fully prepared. There is a lot of information out there a lot of which I thought was bullshit. I was another eight months in to my adventure, when I started to panic. My wife started coming home at a regular time. And she started talking to me and asking about my day. I answered curtly of course, but she seemed undeterred. She started dressing more provocatively for bed. It seemed like she was trying to rekindle the intimacy of our former life. After a few weeks it went from bad to worse. For a year and a half she had been uninvolved and going through the motions. Now she was bitching about our lack of communication. She started talking about working on our marriage. So I stopped talking to her. Complete silence. Her reconciliation attempts lasted until her birthday. I left her present on the dining room table. The wrapping paper should have looked familiar since I recycled it from the last gift she had given me. The contents shouldn't have been a surprise either. It took me six months to open the last birthday present I would get from my wife. It was a watch, complete with a cheap digital face. When I noticed my birthday present in the impulse buy aisle of our neighborhood 24-hour convenience store, I had been pretty angry. A $9.95 watch, from the quickie mart. Fucking bitch. When I saw they had a matching ladies model. I got over it. I bought it and waited 18 months to give it to her. I almost wish I could have seen her reaction, but alas I wasn't there when she opened it. The kids and I had an emergency movie night and were pretty late getting home. She was gone before the kids and I were up the next day. Suddenly everything went back to my new normal. Jennifer started staying later and later at the office. We barely spoke when she was at home. Then it finally came. "Michael, I want a divorce." **** I was hoping that she would get it over with quickly but it was almost a week later before I was served with her petition. It was almost laughable. Spousal and child support, unequal distribution of assets in her favor, mental and emotional cruelty listed as the relevant factors. I waited until the next Monday before taking the kids camping. I didn't want them to be around when I unleashed the hounds. We returned six days later, relaxed and refreshed. Jennifer was waiting for us at home. She was sitting alone in the living room. I think she may have had the stomach flu. In any case she didn't look good. I was wondering which part came as the biggest surprise. I had counter filed for divorce based on adultery. Asking for the house, the only real asset we had left and full custody of the children. I asked for spousal and child support because I was unemployed and had been taking care of the children full time for two years. I had filed alienation of affection lawsuits against Jennifer's seven sexual partners. I had no illusion that I would win any of them, but Illinois law allowed it so I was coming back guns blazing. I filed civil lawsuits against her employer and the companies of the three clients who had enjoyed my wife's hooker status. Again, I didn't think that I could win, but the bad publicity might work in my favor. Finally, I sent a DVD of Jennifer's greatest hits to her parents and her best friend so she would know I wouldn't be afraid to use it. She should have been aware of the evidence I had against her. It had all been named in my counter suit, but I didn't want to take any chances. The kids grabbed a snack and went to their rooms to get ready for bed. They didn't really acknowledge their mother. She made no move to address them. I went to the fridge to grab a beer. Then I made my way to living room and plopped down on the chair opposite Jennifer. She didn't look at me for a long time. So I just enjoyed my beer. In addition to being sick, she appeared to be crying about something. Maybe she was injured? Eventually she spoke, but it was almost a whisper. You'll ruin me." I waited for her to look up so that I could watch her eyes when I responded. It took a few seconds. "God, I hope so." I thought the moment would be more fulfilling. When the single tear formed in her eye and then fell down her cheek, I didn't feel anything. "Do you hate me that much?" "Oh, no Jennifer. I don't hate you. Hate requires effort. I can honestly say that I put forth absolutely no effort when it comes to you. All of my effort goes to taking care of me and my children." "But I am your wif..." "STOP! I will not have a piece of shit like you defame my wife's good name. My wife was a loving and caring woman, my best friend and partner and the mother of my children. She is dead. You are the whore that took over her body. Don't speak as if you have any relationship to me." It was a long time before she spoke again. "What am I going to do now?" "Is that a rhetorical question or do you really want my answer?" I didn't let her respond before I continued. I suppose there are several possible solutions to your predicament. You could move far away and try and start a new life. That's the one I would choose. I am never going to let my children spend any meaningful time with you, so that shouldn't have any impact on your decision to leave. Or I suppose you could try and stick it out here. Hang around town trying to keep your head up. But who knows who will hear about your little exploits or who would want to hire a fucking slut like you. You may be able to latch on to some loser of a man who doesn't care that you're a whore. But what kind of a lowlife scumbag would that be? Or you could kill yourself. I really hope you don't pick that option. That would rob me of watching you suffer like the bitch you are. But then again, I am not sure my opinion really matters to a cunt like you. It sure didn't when you decided to start fucking your boss." I had been dreaming of giving that little speech for months. I should have been happy about the opportunity to give it. As I watched word after word crush whatever was left of her spirit I had hoped I would get some satisfaction. Instead I just felt empty. *** Life after divorce was a mixed bag. I did much better with my lawsuits than I had ever hoped. I netted just over a million dollars in settlements from the three companies who had employees that had slept with my wife. It was surprising because my attorney told me not to expect much. During the post game analysis, we decided that after seeing how he handled my ex-wife's company, they didn't want any part of the negative publicity. We had destroyed my ex-wife's company with discovery motions, depositions, and leaked information to the press. I had also started my own stealth campaign, emailing the CEO's of their remaining clients with information about my wife, her boss and their fuck buddies, 'Do you really want to be in bed with this company when the shit hits the fan?'. It took time, but ever so slowly, their revenues dried up. Employees who didn't want to be associated with the scandal quit. In the end they filed for bankruptcy. Allen Henderson was fired and left town in disgrace. The $200,000 check I received was smaller than my other victories, but much more satisfying. I didn't get anything from my alienation of affection lawsuits. I never thought I would. Four wives did take their husbands to the cleaners in subsequent divorces though. It wasn't all Champaign and roses. I also hurt myself in the process. It was not uncommon for me to run into someone familiar with my situation. The taunting and teasing was out of control for awhile. I don't know if it was fortunate or unfortunate that I didn't really care. I already felt like a loser, so someone putting it into words didn't really affect me. Some of the bastards were actually pretty clever. I was able to shield my children from most of the collateral damage. That had always been my primary concern. They were sad for awhile, but bounced back soon enough. My biggest victory was my return to CTS as vice president of design and development. One of my distractions from my personal turmoil was a return to programming. In my two darkened years I was able to design an add-on to the primary CTS software that made it easy to integrate with two other popular software packages from their competitors. I started my own company and started selling my design. Less than a year later, I had offers from all three companies to buy my company and my software. I received 11 million for my company and an unbelievable compensation package from CTS. For awhile I considered retirement, but with my complete lack of social life, I was sure I was heading for life as a recluse if I didn't give myself an excuse to leave the house every day. My new income allowed me to hire a sweet little old lady who served as both part-time housekeeper and nanny for the kids. After a year, Mrs. Marlene Jensen moved in with us full time, staying in the suite above the garage of our new home. She was like a grandmother to my children, mostly sweet and kind but stern when she had to be. It was the advice she was able to offer the children, the kind that only comes from the wisdom of experience, which I appreciated most. I loved my children and I did my best to be a supportive and caring father. But I was also damaged and jaded and hard. I, too, turned to her for advice. She was my sounding board when it was decision time. The children grew into well adjusted adults, and I saw them and their families from time to time. Unfortunately, as time went on our closeness faded. I did not hold it against them in any way. It was best that I be kept at a distance so my bitterness wouldn't infect their lives. Mrs. Jensen worked for me until the kids left for college. Then she retired. I offered her free room and board as a pension. She had been a constant in my life for 15 years. She tried her best to get me to live again and find someone to share my life with. I appreciated her efforts but in the end she died knowing that I would always be alone. I never really opened up to anyone ever again. My friendships were shallow and unfulfilling. I never really dated with the exception of a few group meals set up by casual friends. I developed a deserved reputation as an ice hearted, ruthless bastard, who was not to be crossed. For the most part I was avoided and I didn't blame anyone but me. My sexual releases were managed well enough. My ever increasing wealth allowed me to maintain a steady rotation of call girls and escorts. I paid generously for their time and use of their bodies. I basically just fucked them and showed them the door. There was one I was quite fond of for awhile. Her name was Candy. I later found out it was really Marybeth. She was a passionate and willing partner. I think I was more than a client to her, too. But I could never burden someone else with my demons, so when I felt her becoming too attached to me, I cut her loose. If you are wondering what happened to Jennifer, well, she had a hard life. She tried for almost a year to talk to me. I am not sure why she tried. Did she think we could reconcile or was she hoping for a relationship with my children? Maybe. I had given her fair warning, but she didn't listen. She tried to stay in Chicago, so I started having her followed. When she applied for a position, I made sure her work history was always there to greet her. When she started dating, which appeared to be almost immediately, I sent care packages to her potential mates letting them know all about the woman they were letting into their lives. I didn't really care if they wanted to keep her around after they knew the truth, but I didn't want her to be able to reshape history by ignoring it. I had to live with it every day, so it was only fair that she did too. As I said, my ex-wife kept up a steady campaign of unanswered phone calls, letters which I never read or responded to, and always kept my email inbox full. I think some sick part of me wanted some measure of her suffering. I suppose early on some type of professional help would have been appropriate. It may have saved some part of my soul and allowed me to gain back some sense of normalcy. But in the end, I never went, and as time passed it seemed too late to do any good. I could have changed my phone number, but I didn't. An assistant could have sorted my mail, but I always did it myself. I could have blocked her incoming emails. It would have prevented me from opening one of them accidently. It was a stream of so sorry and it didn't mean anything. Of course it was a situation that got out of control. She had always loved me. Hadn't she suffered enough? I responded with a gift and a simple note. I purchased the smuttiest piece of lingerie I could find from her favorite store and had it wrapped carefully in the pure white ribbon that really brought out the pink of the box. I attached a beautifully hand written note. I am sure she appreciated the symmetry as she opened the card addressed to 'BITCH'. I hope she was able to understand my meaning when she found the massive butt plug and bottle of lube in amongst her new whore uniform. I thought the 'GO FUCK YOURSELF!' was a pretty clear instruction. One of her potential beaus tried to take me to task for tormenting my ex-wife. He showed up on my doorstep full of liquid courage, shoving me back and off my feet as I opened my front door. It was his mistake. As I have said, I am nothing special. I had no history of martial arts or Special Forces training. I was just an average guy. I had never been a violent man. Hell, I had never even been in a fight. But what I did have was rage, an undiluted, unspent pool of pure hatred for my wife and her lovers. He was the unfortunate recipient of my release. I ended up with a nice shiner and a cracked rib. He was lucky to be alive. He pled guilty to misdemeanor assault and unlawful entry and received probation as a first time offender. I think the years of reconstructive surgery and rehabilitation left more of an impression on him. Jennifer never tried to contact me again. I stopped having her followed after another year when she found steady employment cleaning rooms at a highway hotel in a town about 700 miles from me in the backwoods of Virginia. The only other time I saw her was 16 years later at my daughter's wedding. I know the children reconnected with Jennifer several years after they graduated from college. I made no attempts to prevent them from finding her. An Average Descent The years had not been kind to her. She had gained at least 20 pounds and she had deep wrinkles around her lips and other telltale signs of smoking. That was a new development. All in all she just looked old and worn out. But underneath it all I still saw the women who I had given my heart to. I felt nothing for her, but I saw her. She sat alone, in the bride's section of the church, near the back. Her interaction with my daughter had been brief, cordial but distant. She never made any attempt to talk to me. We were never closer than 30 feet to each other until the end of the night. She was outside waiting for a cab. When I saw it on her finger, I smiled for the first time in some time. Maybe she had had done better than me, if the small gold band and minuscule diamond on her left ring finger were any indication. I wandered towards her, staring at it for several moments. When I looked up to meet her eyes, there was a deep sadness behind her gaze. "For the record...you ruined my life first." I looked down at her left hand, then back into her eyes. "I am glad you found someone. I hope he makes you happy." I walked quickly to my car. My driver had bad been waiting attentively. "Good evening, Mr. Smith. I hope you had a pleasant evening, sir. Are we off to the club?" "It went as well as I could have hoped for, Jonathon. Let's head straight back to the house. I think I would like to be alone tonight." "Certainly, sir." As we pulled away, I tried my best not to look back. But I did catch her brief wave. Goodbye. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Michael Smith was not a hunk. At first glance there was nothing remarkable about him. But he was really sweet and nice looking and smart. And he was different from other guys. Our first meeting occurred on probably the worst night of my college life. My sorority sisters had ditched me in the middle of a fraternity mixer to go blow a couple of douche bag frat boys. They promised that we would stick together for the night, but had leapt at the first chance to slut around with anyone in the popular crowd. I spent two hours waiting for them, getting hit on and groped by a bunch of drunk assholes, when he finally came up to me. Michael was looking right into my eyes. He politely introduced himself and made small talk for a few moments. He was almost whispering. But his eyes never left mine. After a short while he left. "I have really enjoyed talking to you, Jennifer. I would like to take you to coffee sometime. Here is my name and number if you are interested. Thanks for talking to me. It has been the highlight of my semester." I admit that I almost didn't call him. I waited just over a week before I decided what the heck. We met for coffee. He asked me all kinds of questions. I found he was very easy to talk to. It was during that first conversation that I discovered what made him unique. His exterior was quiet and unassuming. He wasn't bad looking. He was maybe even a little bit handsome. But he was brilliant. That was clear. He could speak on any subject and was well versed on every topic I threw his way. He said he was a computer science major, but he clearly could have chosen any number of fields. We started talking about my classes, especially the ones I was struggling with, more specifically ancient philosophy. I was majoring in business with a minor in advertising. Unfortunately, I had put off taking several of my least favorite electives and was having a bit more trouble than I had hoped. Michael's eyes never wandered. Like our first meeting, he looked right into my eyes the entire time we were speaking. His motive was clear. He was genuinely interested in me, as a person. I was flattered. He suggested that we study together at the student union or the library. So three days later we were together again. I wouldn't have called it studying. Advanced tutoring would be a better description. Michael spent three hours at the library on a Friday night giving me the help I needed to pass my philosophy exam. When I didn't understand something he apologized for his teaching methods and tried something different. He was so patient. He never made me feel stupid when I didn't understand. I could feel his excitement through the phone when I called him to tell him that I passed my exam the next Tuesday. I could tell he was proud of me. He wouldn't accept any praise for helping me saying that he was actually being selfish trying to spend time with me and that it was the most enjoyable time he had spent on campus. I found out about some of the other ways Michael was not like most other guys. During the week, he was singularly focused on his studies. There were definitely no parties, absolutely no drinking and nothing that could be considered a distraction. At first I found it annoying. But it grew on me. During the next several weeks, we never went on what I would consider an actual date but he called every day just to talk to me and see how I was doing. He left me notes to let me know he was thinking of me. We still met for coffee or at the library, and once or twice shared a quick lunch. When we were together, he continued to ask questions about me and my family, my interests, my dreams. If I asked him questions he was open and honest. Once, I asked him if he was afraid of anything. It was my go to question on dates. I read somewhere in a magazine that it was a good question to see how much trust someone put in you. I was prepared for the one of typical frat boy answers. In the past they had ranged from 'nothing' to 'that I will have left college without partying as much as I should have'. Michael just sat quietly for a minute while staring into space. Then he looked me in the eye and spoke. "I am afraid I won't be a very good father. I was an only child. My mother and father both died when I was in high school, but we were never very close. I lived with my uncle until I graduated. He was quite the womanizer and we had very little in common. I think he was relieved when I left for college. I want to be married. I want children. But I don't have any experience being part of a loving, supportive family. I want to be a good father, but I am afraid that I won't know how." When he stopped talking I think he was looking for some type of response. "Too much?" he asked. "No, Michael. Not too much. Just enough." About four weeks into our relationship Michael asked me if I had Saturday open. I told him I did, and he told me he would stop by the sorority around lunch time. The days leading up to that Saturday were strange. I kept asking Michael what he had planned. He wouldn't tell me. My sorority sisters kept smiling at me and whispering. I was on edge when he finally arrived. He was dressed in maroon and sky blue. Three of his fraternity brothers were similarly dressed and were carrying a large cooler and two giant warming trays with food. Michael had a DVD in one hand and a West Ham jersey for me in the other and a big smile on his face. He asked me to show him the house's great room. When we turned the corner the majority of the house was dressed in West Ham colors and started a chant. I was shocked. Once, for a total of maybe thirty seconds, I had been complaining that I had missed my family's trip to England. I had a distant cousin who had made the roster of a club team, West Ham United, and my family had planned a trip to London to watch him play. Unfortunately, the trip landed during a very important test week for me, and I couldn't go. I was really disappointed and shared that with Michael. He had a friend from the local sports bar record a West Ham game off of their satellite. He had researched the team chants, taught them to his friends and my sorority sisters, and watched the game to know when he should start them. He and his friends had brought a few cases of English ale and made fish and chips. While the game played, we sang and drank and cheered. He made everyone quiet down in the 72nd minute and told me to pay attention to the screen. I was able to watch my cousin score his first premier league goal, tape delayed of course. No one else in my family would be able to say that. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me. When it was over, he and his friends cleaned up the mess, and were on their way. Michael said he would call me later. I was left alone to fend off the teasing about the dreamy look in my eyes. It was worth it. Our phone calls and notes and coffees continued for a couple more weeks, until one day while I was sipping on a latte I noticed that he seemed extremely nervous. "Is everything OK, Michael?" "What? Oh, yes, yes. Of course. I was just wondering, uh, if you had any plans for Friday night? And if you were free, um, if you would have any interest in going to dinner with me. Well, like a date...with me...on Friday." "I would love to go to dinner with you, Michael." The look of relief on his face was surprising. It was quickly replaced with one of the widest smiles I had ever seen. It was on his face while he finished his coffee, as we were walking out the door and when he turned around to give me one last wave as he went to class. I could see it from almost a block away. From that moment everything was the perfect whirlwind of love and romance and friendship. I did better in school than I ever had. I was having more fun than at any other time in my life. People treated me differently, too. I was more comfortable being myself, the woman that Michael loved, and I think people were drawn to that. I will say that being around Michael was like getting a daily ego vitamin. He may have always sold himself short, but he was never shy about describing me in glowing terms. The reality of it was probably just the opposite. Michael was a reasonably good looking guy who was in shape if not even a little athletic. He was always well groomed, bordering on stylish. He was personable and well liked, but he was a little shy around new people. I can say without a doubt he was always the smartest person in the room, professors included, and everyone knew it. But with a casual demeanor he shunned the spotlight and attention to spend time with me. He would often tell me he was just an average guy who had won the lottery when he met me. I would describe myself as cute. My friends would describe me as cute. My family would describe me as cute. I had always been a little self conscious about my appearance and my body. It was hard not to be. Some of my sorority sisters were gorgeous, with model good looks and the bikini bodies to match. But it was hard not to feel like I had something special looking at myself through Michael's eyes. I can sum it up by saying that the longer I was with Michael the more cherished I felt. I was over the moon with happiness when graduation came calling. One of the silly end of year rituals at the sorority was the husband potential game. As one of the few sisters without a long term boyfriend, I had never been able to participate. For a large group of alumni, this was their favorite event and it was always well attended. It was simple enough. Each sister went before the gathered alumni, alone, and was able to give either a positive or negative example of another sister's boyfriend during the previous year. The winner was the sister who's boyfriend had the most positive responses. I can't say I was completely shocked at the result, but I was a little bit. For the first time in the 29 year history of the event my Michael had received all positive responses. One from every sister. I had never been more proud, and was a little disappointed that, because of tradition, I wouldn't be able to tell him of his victory. Three days later, I did find a way to give him an appropriate reward. The day after graduation, Michael drove me home. I was from Chicago and Michael had been offered a job there. We spent the four hour drive holding hands and talking. We stopped for a quick breakfast and a quick make out session. We arrived in front of my childhood home just before lunch. Michael spent the next two hours charming the pants off my parents. I was a little surprised when he asked if he could buy my dad a beer. They were gone before I even had a chance to object. My mom was smiling through her misty eyes. "Oh, Jennifer, that one is a keeper." "Believe me mom. I KNOW." Michael and Dad were smiling and laughing all the way to the front door when they finally returned two hours later. Michael told me he would be back to pick me up for dinner after he checked into his hotel, he said a quick goodbye to my parents and then he was off. He told me latter he had asked my father for permission to marry me. That night was an evening I will never forget. It was magical. After a wonderfully romantic Italian dinner, Michael proposed to me on the Sky Deck of the Willis Tower. It was a beautiful clear evening and the lights of the Chicago skyline almost matched the glow in my heart. Going through college a virgin had always been a slight source of embarrassment. I am certain I was the only sorority sister left in the house who was. But that night, it was a precious gift. Part of a matching set. Michael gave himself to me that night. I could feel it. He treasured my virginity in a way that only he could. He was patient, and loving, and gentle. He built a magnificent a wave of love and lust, then swept me away in it. I couldn't have dreamed of a more perfect sexual encounter much less a first time experience. I knew that Michael was also a virgin, with very little experience with the opposite sex. In the glow of my post orgasmic state, I asked where he had learned to be such a fantastic lover. As humbly as he had ever been he whispered to me. "I read. A LOT." *** Our lives were damn near perfect. Michael had a started a good job immediately after graduation. He kept getting promoted and kept me happier than ever. I don't mean to gloss over those years as a means to diminish their importance to me. I couldn't find the words to express how happy I was for the first decade of our lives together. I would be completely inadequate in describing how having children completed my life. I am not providing the details of those years because they had nothing to do with my downfall. In fact sharing those years with you would only confuse you about the motives that led to my downfall. I know my mistake, no, I better make that mistakes. I know why I fell. I didn't trust Michael enough. One of the things I loved most about Michael was the fact that he never hid his vulnerability from me. He shared his whole being with me, almost most importantly his insecurities. He never hid from me. For a long time, I had nothing to hide. My life was a fairy tale. My family was beautiful. Michael never treated me as anything other than full fledged partner. I was involved in every decision that affected our lives. It didn't matter that he made five times as much as me, or was better with our finances, he always looked to me for advice and consent. It mostly made me feel special, but sometimes it made me feel inadequate, like I wasn't holding up my end of the bargain. I never shared that with Michael. If I had, I never would have destroyed my life. He would have helped me. I know it. He loved me so much. He would have helped me feel whole. That tiny insecurity grew and grew over the years. Maybe it festered. Whatever the case, by the time kids were in school I was lost in my own skin. I felt I needed something different, to give me an independent purpose. I was not looking for a lover, not by any means. I loved my husband. I was more than satisfied in the bedroom. Our sex life was passionate if maybe just a little bit on the safe side. That was mostly my fault. I knew that my husband wanted to be a bit more...experimental is probably the best word, but I just figured why mess with a good thing. No, what I wanted was to feel like an equal, not just get treated like one. So I found a job and announced that I was taking it. I had it all worked out. I was fully prepared to defend my reasons for wanting a job. Our argument lasted four seconds. "I think that sounds great, Jennifer. Whatever makes you happy." And it worked. I had solved my problem. All on my own. I didn't need any help. The pure vanity of my thinking those first few months would make me vomit later on. But at the time it was exhilarating. I felt like I could take on the world as an independent confident woman. The mood in our office could best be described as flirtatious. At its worst it could have easily been called a den of debauchery. My coworkers, men and women alike, were young and bold and vivacious. There were several inter office flings happening. As an outsider it seemed as though they were empowered by their sexuality. There were no relationships going on. Just sex for the sake of sex. No one seemed to hide it or think there was anything wrong with it. My boss may have been the worst of the bunch. Allen Henderson was a reasonably good looking guy, though not really my type. People were always teasing him about his inability to keep a girlfriend and congratulating him on his latest conquest. I didn't jump into bed with the first guy who hit on me. In fact I shot him down. Hard. But it did start making me to wonder if Michael and I were missing something in our sex life. Our friend group was pretty reserved when it came to sex. There had never been a single conversation in our neighborhood that even came close to the daily barrage I heard at the office. After our first company Christmas party, when I introduced Allen to Michael, my life was changed forever. I could tell they didn't like each other even though they pretended to get along quite well. I stopped talking to Michael about my job and I never mentioned Allen. I could tell that my work and boss bothered him. After that night, I could tell things were different around the office, too. Allen started giving me a lot of attention, praising my work in front of people and asking me how I was feeling. He started asking me to share lunch with him. We always talked at great length about our latest project. He started asking my opinion more and more. Then he would ask a few personal questions and we would be done and back to work. He also started complimenting me on my appearance using words like sexy and provocative. Looking back he worked on me for months and I foolishly ate it up. I don't remember the exact series of events that led to being half naked with Allen fucking me on top of his desk after everyone else had left for the day. It with the deepest sorrow that I admit I enjoyed every minute of it. Allen's skillful seduction had left me feeling desired. An emotion I felt had long passed. Years later, when I analyzed my behavior, I realized the totality of my betrayal. I didn't feel like Michael desired me because I didn't give him anything to desire. I knew the type of man he was. He was never going to do anything to make me feel uncomfortable. I was his true partner and his cherished lover, not his fuck buddy. But he was very perceptive. The slightest indication on my part would have been enough. Any implication that I wanted something different would have had dramatic effects. A painful review of my marital life revealed that clearly Michael had gently probed for any opening to ratchet up our sex life and I ignored him. We had oral sex, but I never dropped to my knees and sucked his dick. I had dressed in beautiful lingerie, but I never dropped my panties, bent over the couch and begged him to fuck me. And I never let him have my ass. Not once. I am morbidly ashamed to admit I did all those things and much more for Allen. I was a slut for him and I loved it. I was in way too deep with Allen before I recognized the truth. I had given Allen the gift of my anal virginity on his birthday. He treated me in the manner that I deserved. He fucked me like a whore. I give him a gift and he used it. It was painful. The contrast to Michael was startling, and changed my thinking almost immediately. Allen didn't love me and I was making a terrible mistake. I told Allen our affair was over the very next day. He laughed at me and shoed me out of his office. An Average Descent The package was on my desk when I came back from lunch. Along with a note to be in Allen's office at 5:30. The contents of the package insured my compliance. Pictures of Allen fucking me in various positions were the lock that chained me to him and to the hell that my life would become over the next year and a half and beyond. Fucking my two coworkers, who were waiting for me in Allen's office, was actually pleasant compared to the other things I would be forced to do over those 18 months. I will only say that I was the company whore and Allen was my pimp and I hated him almost as much as I hated myself. I struggled to find a way out and always came up short. It wasn't until I couldn't take the depravity of my actions that the answer to my problems presented itself. When they told me to fuck the geeky looking guy in a conference room full of people I knew I was done. I had never even seen a picture of a penis that size. He just slammed it into me until he was ready to cum, then he jammed it down my throat until I was choking. That was enough. I found my solution, one that had eluded me for so long. Courage. I told Allen I was done, I didn't care who he showed the pictures to. He just laughed and it was over. I felt like such a fool. I have to say when I woke up from my nightmare I was surprised at the state of our household. Michael and the kids seemed to be fine without me. Deep down I thought they might be struggling when forced to face life with the kind of neglect I had forced upon them. But it was the exact opposite. It was almost like I wasn't needed at all. Michael was clearly still on top of his game. He had a new car and new clothes and looked every bit the successful executive. I felt horrible when I realized how long I had been ignoring my family. I decided right then I would rededicate my life to them and do whatever I could to make up for my betrayal. But there was a distance between us, one that hadn't been there before. I often wondered how long it had been there. Michael never raised his voice to me. We never argued. But he treated me like an unwanted guest. I decided I needed to put on the full court press. I tried to seduce him. Sexy lingerie. Dropping hints. Nothing worked. He barely touched me. After a few months, I looked at the state of our marriage. No sex life, no intimacy, no communication. I decided I couldn't live that way. I suggested marriage counseling. Then Michael stopped talking to me. I don't just mean he didn't confide in me. He just stopped talking. Not one word for weeks. I was at my wits end when my birthday rolled around. I allowed myself to feel a little bit of excitement. I mean, he couldn't ignore me on my birthday. Boy, was I wrong. I arrived home from work ready to see what my family had planned only to find that the house was empty. The small wrapped box on the dining room table was the only thing out of place. I knew what it was before I even opened it. A few years earlier, I had forgotten Michael's birthday. In a panic I found an inexpensive watch at the store down the street. I had fully intended to make up for my oversight later, but I never got around to it and eventually I forgot all about it. My present had been a mistake but his was calculated. I was fuming by the time I went to bed. Keeping the children away from me on my birthday was just cruel. I couldn't believe he would do that to me. And the present! That was over the line. I should have recognized that something was terribly wrong. The symbolism should have been enough. Michael was not an evil person. He was the most gentle, caring and loving man I had ever met. If I had not been so clouded by my anger over that damn present, I might have been able to save my marriage. If I had confessed my sins and begged for forgiveness there may have been hope. Unfortunately, at that moment I stopped thinking about working on my marriage and started thinking about divorce. I was sad, but determined. It took me a few weeks to work out all the details with a lawyer. I told her about how Michael had been distant and even cruel. How he was keeping the children away from me. How he had ignored my requests to go to counseling. How he had stopped speaking to me. My lawyer jumped all over my comments. She told me I would get a nice settlement. We reviewed the filing. I felt I was being fair, but standing up for what I would need to have a reasonable life. All that was left was breaking the bad news. I stood in silence, in the doorway of the den, watching the man who had once been my husband, my soul mate. He looked like the same man, but he wasn't. Finally, I had enough. "Michael, I want a divorce." There was a long silence, but I read no emotion on his face. I thought I saw him smile but he was probably just in shock. He had to be because his response was not what I expected. No yelling, no questions. "OK." And that was it. He was served with my divorce petition the very next Friday. Michael was in a better mood during that weekend. But if he was trying to make up for his recent behavior it was too late. I was in no mood to reconcile. He even said goodbye to me at the door as I left for work on Monday morning. Too little, too late I thought. I knew there was a big problem when I arrived at the office, but I had no idea what it was. My boss, the president of our company and our corporate lawyer were having a shouting match in the conference room. Fists full of paper were being waved around. I was so busy watching the hysterics, I missed the man waiting for me near my workstation. He startled me when he spoke. "Jennifer Smith?" "Yes." "You are served." The man handed me a massive envelope, took my picture, and left. I didn't even have a chance to sit down, let alone look at the contents of the envelope. As soon as the man was gone, a security guard and the HR manager were standing in front of me. "Mrs. Smith, you are being suspended while an investigation is being conducted into allegations of inappropriate workplace conduct. Please gather your personal items and leave the building," she said. It was humiliating having to pack my things while my coworkers looked on. It was even worse when I was escorted from the building. I had no idea what was going on. I was barely pulling out of the parking lot when my phone rang. It was my lawyer. I didn't even get to say hello before she let me have it. 'Hiding crucial information' and 'making her look like an idiot' were the only phrases that made sense. I drove home in silence. The house was once again empty when I arrived. I had no idea the hell that I had unleashed until I finally had calmed myself down long enough to remember the envelope. Michael's counter petition was devastating. Almost every one of my extramarital activities had been documented. There was no money. He had spent almost all of our life savings. The word that stung the most: adultery. I thought that my life couldn't get any worse. Then I tried to call my parents. I needed some support. My father called me a whore and hung up on me. He didn't need to tell me why he thought that. I knew. I thought the next seven days were the loneliest of my life, years later I would remember them fondly as the good days. Michael had left a note that I found later saying that he had taken the children camping and would be back on Sunday. My oldest friend Rebecca called around 7:00 that first night to check on me. She told me that Michael had sent her a DVD and that I didn't want to know what was on it. During the next few days, my lawyer detailed the hopelessness of my situation. I had been fired for cause, my company, several company clients and all of my sex partners were being sued. I would lose custody of my children, I was going to lose everything. At that point I was willing to do anything to make Michael stop all of the lawsuits. I tried to get ready for his return. Unfortunately, I couldn't stop crying. I was a mess when my family returned home. The children brushed past me as if I wasn't even in the room. Michael stepped in a few minutes later, beer in hand, looking as if he didn't have a care in the world. I could barely bring myself to speak. "You'll ruin me." The pure hatred in his voice destroyed me. "God, I hope so." When I tried to bring up our history as husband and wife he called me a whore. I wasn't even speaking to him at that point. I was just thinking out loud. But Michael went on a tirade that lasted several minutes. Slut. Whore. Cunt. Bitch. Each word tore at me. I was finished. Then he stood up and left the room. I can honestly say that I didn't give up. I tried to reconnect with Michael. But he wouldn't speak to me. I wondered how Michael and the kids were managing without any money but everything seemed to be OK. I would sometimes secretly watch him drop them off or pick them up at school. I couldn't find a job and was collecting unemployment. My parents wouldn't speak to me. I needed a place to stay so I started moving from friend to friend, mostly divorced men. No one seemed to want to keep me around for very long. One day things would be fine, the next they would want me gone. I had started seeing a therapist on the advice of my lawyer. She seemed to think that showing some remorse for my behavior and trying to get professional help on my own might do some good in court. I had very little hope. I was able to work through some things, most of which I have shared with you. But my therapist's best advice came near the end of our sessions. Her advice was to run, far away. I am not sure why he decided to respond to me. It could have been a phone call or an email or even one the dozens of letters I sent. But for whatever reason, I came home to find a package from Michael waiting for me. I recognized the store's standard gift box right away. The card was addressed to me in a rather vulgar manner. When I saw the giant sex toy and bottle of lube, I knew. He knew almost everything. He really hated me and had a very specific suggestion about how I should best use my time. I don't know why the realization that he was aware of my voluntary betrayal was so much worse. But it was. I cried. Hard. I was staying with a friend of a friend at the time. A decent guy named Robert. I think he had some designs on making our relationship something more than roommates. When he came into the room to see what was wrong, I could tell he had been drinking. When he saw the package he was furious and was out the door before I could stop him. I was worried when Robert wasn't home after a few hours. I should have been. The nurses at the hospital were a little sketchy on the details but knew most of the story. Apparently, Robert had gone to confront Michael. Michael had nearly beaten him to death. His face was mangled. He had a concussion, several internal injuries and a shattered left femur. I was horrified. My problems were now infecting the people around me. I told my therapist the story during my next session. She started asking me question about Michael. I told her everything I knew. He was an only child, no family left. He was orphaned as a young teenager. I spoke of our young love, of his devotion to me and the children. I told him about his actions for the two years he had to have known about my affair and subsequent behavior. And I told her what Michael had done to Robert. When I was done she looked frightened. "You should run as far away from here as possible. Leave him alone. Don't call him. Don't write him. Don't let him know where you are. There is no hope of reconciliation. Don't even try. Move on with your life. If you push him, the most likely outcome will be that he will kill you. Your actions have clearly broken a man with a fragile hold on sanity. He has had to endure disappointment upon disappointment for his entire life. He will never forgive you. He will never forget. Run." And so I did. I ran away from the memory of my perfect life to a shithole college town in Virginia where I found an even shittier job. I did find a man several years later that could tolerate me and ignore my past. The best I can say about him was that he didn't smell and he didn't hit me. There was no love between us, only companionship. I am certain it was part of my punishment. My children contacted me when they were older, just to say hello and to let me know they were alive and knew I was, too. They never asked to see me or to have any meaningful role in their lives. Michael, well, he flourished without me. I followed him in the news as much as I could. He always was a superstar in the software industry and he had an extreme amount of wealth to prove it. Nothing much was ever written about his personal life. I saw him one more time at my daughter's wedding. I was surprised I was invited. He looked fantastic. He looked every bit the man who owned my heart and who I had betrayed. I admit I was a little bit frightened when he approached me for his final gloat. "For the record...you ruined my life first." He stared at my puny wedding ring. I wished at that moment that I had never put it on my finger. "I am glad you found someone. I hope he makes you happy." And then he was gone.