Two-Faced and the Betrayed

***TW: mentions of divorce and an affair***

“This is a tale of two marriages, and I want you to figure out which one is real.”

“Okay, I’ll listen and see if I can.”

“Now, I know you’re my therapist, Diana, but you’ve become like a friend to me over the last year. I simply ask that you treat me more as a friend today.”

“I can do that, Jonie.”

“Well… let’s rewind a bit.”

We met in high school, but we weren’t exactly sweethearts until college. In fact, I was someone else’s sweetheart from eighth grade until senior year, and not off and on either. It was quite an accomplishment. But that relationship in that final year sort of… fizzled out. We weren’t too incompatible, except on the most important things. We both mutually decided to end our long-lasting relationship. 

The thing is… my college sweetheart had been interested in me for some time, and it didn’t take long after the breakup to become official with Patrick.

“The college sweetheart?”

“Yes, him.”

Anyway, imagine seeing a few red flags but your alarms are not going off. Or rather, they’re going off, but you think once you get far enough from those alarms, things will be okay. You get married, and for some time, things are okay… until they aren’t. 

It’s harder when it’s subtle and slow-forming. Secret addictions and believable facades are your reality, but it’s not like you’re being hit or treated badly outrightly. It takes years to see that those red flags and those alarms never left. I was taken for the fool I was, hasty to be married, thinking I could overcome any shortcomings I married into.

When the marriage slipped into more of a roommate situation - still with most of the benefits - you realize something has changed. You think ‘is it the undealt with trauma he has?’ You try to be a good wife, give him the benefit of the doubt and distance, even when he admits to texting another woman. You tell yourself you haven’t done anything wrong, so how could it be me? You die inside wishing he’d care about you and pray for you half as much as he seemed to for this mystery woman.

He gives you vague non-answers when you ask when he’ll be home for dinner, then you end up eating alone. He seems to be working both days and nights, yet you still don’t suspect it could be an affair. You truly think this person needs that much decompressing time between shifts, and you stifle the idea that home isn’t his solace in any way anymore. Truth be told, it’s quickly becoming a wasteland for your own self too.

Ultimately, when the truth was discovered, I had this sort of compassion for him, even though I was the one betrayed. Maybe it was the loss of his child to the other woman, and somehow my infertility gave me pause. Only a short pause though, as I learned not long after that she was pregnant again, and he had no desire to stop seeing her. When he wouldn’t fight for me, I knew I didn’t recognize him and didn’t like him anymore. I still loved him though, and I basically begged him to stay. 

He didn’t. 

He claimed he was happier, and I believed him, because I failed to make him a father. He wanted this sort of bachelor non-commitment to someone while also becoming a father.

He got that.

I was stuck in the almost-foreclosed house that wasn’t a home anymore, and he was living elsewhere. For a short time, he lived in the guest room, but despite my attempt to kick him out, it was legally his house since my name wasn’t on the deed or the loan. Eventually, he couldn’t take being around me, and I think maybe it was because I by some miracle had some good days - days of joy and time with friends in between days of misery and throwing old, framed photos. He was irked by my moving on and by my clinging to God. He eventually left voluntarily. 

After he had been gone for a couple months, he finally divorced me. I almost did it myself… but he beat me to it. The strange thing is when we got those final papers, I felt no different than I had those prior months. It makes sense though, because all but legally, we weren’t truly married anymore.

I learned a lot about marriage through the divorce and about boundaries by this whole thing. I knew I couldn’t stay friends with him, if being “friends” with your unfaithful ex-husband was actually possible. He alluded to wanting a friendship, and I explained why that was just not possible - most of which was I didn’t want actual updates about his baby and new woman. (I didn’t say, but she never knew he was married until I told her in a letter). 

“I’d be interested in hearing about that story!” Diana inserted.

“There’s not much to say, other than I knew where she lived because I knew how they met. I wasn’t sure at the time if she was knowingly complicit in this affair, but I wrote the letter at first just for me… kind of like when you know it shouldn’t be sent, but it relieves you of some of the emotions?”

“Definitely.”

“Well, I resolved to give it to her in case she didn’t know everything. I never saw her face, and just in time I left that letter for her at her doorstep. It didn’t take long for my almost-ex to call me about how upset she was because he hadn’t told her, and I was ruining a good thing. Can you believe it? He blamed me for ruining his fling…”

“Unbelievable…”

“Yes, well I think they had another child and are still together, as I’ve heard through the grapevine. But I’d like to explain the other marriage. We still have to look at both to decide which really happened in its entirety.”

“Of course. I’m listening.”

This marriage is less complicated. It was chock full of memories where we’d eaten out when money was tight, and that was the most thrilling part of our week. We were young, but we knew we could be a little frivolous - you know, before life and bills and adulting took hold too hard.

It was a short time of building up sweet moments. From the times he helped me with schoolwork to the honeymoon in Payson, Arizona in the cutest cabin, to the birthdays, holidays, and short camping trips with friends, it was a time that seemed like it'd never end.

There were many times we visited his grandma on his mom’s side, and we’d enjoy the luxury meals in her ritzy retirement community. She lived locally, but it was still close to two hours away. One time she gave us over 20 grand! That really helped us out. We didn’t waste it either. I think she gave it to us not knowing if she’d have much time left. 

Turns out, she had many years left, and she only died in this last year.

“Well, what happened with this guy?”

“Would you believe these were the same guy? Same marriage?”

“So they both really happened?” Diana asked, knowing the answer.

“Yep… the same guy who loved our dog at the time and would give me back massages also cheated on me and didn’t fight for me in the end. Just different times in that 5-year marriage. That crazy amount of money his grandma gave us? Well, part of it was used to travel to see family on my side. I was excited to see cousins after a decade, and to show off my husband who they had never met. All the while, he was actively unfaithful and truly I had no idea at the time when we visited the family the truth of the betrayal yet.”

“I’m devastated for you.”

Diana hugs Jonie and says “you have endured so much. In this last year, I’m amazed at how you come in here with hope and clarity knowing you had years of heartbreak prior to seeing me.”

“Thank you. Triggers still happen. But I recognize them, and I honestly don’t hurt like I did. It’s amazing someone can feel so free of something so horrific.”

“It helps that you’re married to a man who isn’t unfaithful and who is more on the same page about marriage, huh?”

“Absolutely. He knows I still battle infertility, but I don’t worry he’ll leave me like my ex did.” Jonie hugs Diana again.