I Hooked Up With A Married Man — Then Told His Wife
Yes, I fell for it. But it ended up costing him.
Balzhan Bukeyeva / Shutterstock 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.
And then I did something that tore me apart emotionally — but was absolutely the right thing to do.
Back up and let me explain.
How I fell for the cheater's con job
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, and 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.
Too good to be true
The bomb came a day and a 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 misled 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 that 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 her husband dearest was out trying to seduce anything that moved.
The right thing to do?
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.
Delaine Moore is an author, speaker, and therapist whose memoir, The Secret Sex Life of a Single Mom, was the inspiration for a Lifetime movie of the same title.
