When I used to think of cheating, I thought of walking in to my bedroom and finding dear hubby being ridden by some skanky hooker. What I never thought of before, but do now, think of cheating is the dozens of women he flirted with, talked to, called on the phone and ignored me for. On days when he acted like I wasn’t his wife, when he shared intimate details of our marriage with x-3, when he talked for hours with 2-faced, when he flirted with some nameless waitress right in front of me…that was cheating just as much as if they’d been having sex on my bed in my home. He shared a part of himself or led me to the conclusion that he had just to hurt me…to watch the pain and rage and shame rip across my heart.
I know in my heart that he didn’t love me, that I was disposable to him and interchangeable with the next brunette who wandered along. I was the faceless object he used to garner his next “high” and the pain of that haunts my dreams. The fact that I loved a monster with all my heart for 3 years haunts me even more.