I remember the exact moment I noticed you. You had this allure that just pulled me to you, like a moth to a flame. I believe I noticed you before you even knew who I was. And when you finally knew me, knew all the flaws, the rumors, the dark and dirty secrets, you did not let any of it deter you from me. You still wanted to know me.
Those moments we were together were some of the best moments for me. The distance seemed like an impossible feat. Thousands of miles would separate us. Let's not forget time zones.
I wasn't worried. I had hope for the both of us even when you said long-distance did not have a positive outlook. And in spite of the odds not being in our favor, we did it. We became fast friends. We were lovers. We got married. It was the start of something new and exciting. And hope continued to build.
Our family grew to include two beautiful children. We had a life. It wasn't perfect, but I believed that during that time, we were happy.
My thoughts go back to the time I walked down the aisle, the waves lapping up on the beach behind you. The sun strong and bright, making you like a beacon for me.
As long as I continued to gaze upon your face, I knew I would never be lost again. You would always be there to guide me, protect me and hold me close. I remember looking into your face and seeing so much emotion that day. I knew then, in the deepest and darkest corners of your heart, your love for me was true. I couldn't be happier. Nothing could tear us apart.
You told me you couldn't talk to me. I was shut off. I was depressed. You were afraid to say anything to hurt me. So you decided to wait it out. You believed that eventually, your wife would come back to you, the vibrant and full of life woman you married. However, you did not do the waiting alone.
You found people to tell your woes to. You told everyone but me about our marital problems. You began seeking advice from other women. Friends are what you would call them. And somehow, those friends you vented to became more.
Drunken one night stands to affairs that lasted years. But these women meant nothing to you. This is what you tell me. This is the truth that you want me to believe.
"I intended to take it to the grave," you told me one night. You never planned for me to find out the truth. We know that the truth always has a way of coming to light no matter how far you dig to hide it. I was going to find out regardless if you hid it from me, told me, or if I found it by other means.
The secrets all came crumbling. And with the secrets, the images of faceless women with you. Being intimate the way we were. Or better. Cue insecurities. I would imagine you holding them or touching them the way you would touch me. Remembering all the times I trusted you were out with your friends and not doubting or questioning you when you came home the next day.
Only to find out all those times I blindly trusted you, you were with someone else. These thoughts are a constant in my head. They play continously with a bad habit of popping up to the forefront of my brain at random moments. When this happens, I can't think straight. Anger comes. Anger at the women, anger at my "friends" who allowed themselves to become involved with my husband. Anger at my husband. Anger at myself. Anger being immediately followed by sadness. Then self-blame.
I was the one that thought we were OK. But that is a lie. There was a point, probably around the time that you started your extracurricular activities, when I noticed a change in you. There was a time when I began to question you. I never voiced these concerns, but they were there.
I lost interest in intimacy. Maybe that is why you decided to find it somewhere else. And so, aside from blaming you, I also blame myself. I should have known something was going on. Had I noticed, would you not have strayed, or if you had already strayed by then, would these affairs have lasted as long as they had? I will never know.
I never felt as much pain in my life as I do now, writing this letter. I never thought the person that would make me feel this hurt, anguish, seemingly unending pain would be you. My husband. My lover. The father of my children.
That day on the beach, we made promises to each other. We promised we would work out our issues no matter what they would be. I just never thought this would be one of them.