Photo: weheartit
Yep, it even happens to the Experts.
By Delaine Moore — Written on Jun 01, 2015
So, I made out with another woman's husband.
That's right. This here Divorce and Dating Expert got conned by a handsome, sweet-talking cheater.
Back up and let me explain:
It was a particularly busy night at the bar. Shortly after my girlfriends and I arrived, "Mr. Smooth" descended upon us, inviting us upstairs to a private company party. Off we went… and over the next half hour, it became quickly apparent that "Mr. Smooth" was very interested in me.
He told me he was divorced. Not just divorced but happily divorced. He talked about his single life, his wonderful children, and his fulfilling career.
The more I talked to him, the more my attraction to him grew.
His energy, his smarts, were sucking me in. He was from a different town, which I didn't care for — but he kept commenting on how intense our "emotional connection" was, how he really wanted to take me out for a proper elegant dinner and get to know me, how he wasn't just about wanting to have sex.
We spent the next seven hours together. Lots of talking, lots of major heavy petting, dancing, drinking, holding hands as we wandered through the bar. And I'll admit it, I was pretty taken with him. That doesn’t happen to me often.
The bomb came a day and half later.
That's when I found out he was married. One of his friends accidentally let the cat out of the bag to one of MY girlfriends.
I was mad. Not just mad, I was furious that this guy had the audacity to lie to my face over and over all night long, and he was SO good at it. More than that, he mislead me. And for what? So he could feel a different set of boobs for a night? So he could feel like a stud?
This guy was out doing whatever in the hell he wanted, wasting my time, playing with MY body and MY brain, while meanwhile, I betcha he had a lovely, faithful, sweet wife at home waiting for him to text her goodnight.
Over the next few hours, old hurt resurfaced. My emotions were reacting so strongly I knew something past was being triggered in me. I could relate to "her," how she'd be home waiting, trusting, taking care of the home, taking care of the kids… while husband dearest was out trying to f*** anything that moved.
*Sigh*
I found her on Facebook.
I looked at her photo and every cell in my body screamed, You were her. You were her, and no one told you for YEARS of your husband's goings-on. Why would you, of all people, deprive her of that knowledge?
So I wrote her. And I told her. More than that, we spoke on the phone. And when I got off the phone with her, I cried. I cried, because I knew how hard it was for her to listen to what I said. I could feel my hands shaking and blood racing as if in unison with hers. I could feel her world crashing in. I could feel the piercing stab of betrayal through her heart.
But when my tears subsided and my blood calmed, I could only think of her final words to me: "Thank you. Thank you for having the courage to tell me."
And I held my shoulders back, knowing I'd made the right choice. For her AND for me.
