I met hubby 15 years ago. I was one year out of my marriage to my kids’ dad. Probably still vulnerable although I felt strong and independent at the time. I met hubby in a club on a girls’ night out. Unbeknown to either of us, we’d been checking each other out. It was love at first sight for me, which was annoying as I didn’t believe in it. My friend and I joined him and his friend for an after club curry and he and I talked for hours. He was such a lovely-natured, softly spoken guy- quite hypnotic. We exchanged numbers. We weren’t kids, btw; both in our early 30s. A week later, I couldn’t stop thinking about him so I texted him. A week of texting followed before we arranged to meet again.
Turned out he was just separated from his girlfriend. He’d moved up from London after a brief long-distance relationship - packed his life up and moved north to be with her. After four months of living together she’d confessed she had severe bipolar with regular suicidal thoughts. She was on the highest dose of meds they could give her. She’d recently come at him with a knife, so he’d left. He was devastated she hadn’t been honest before he’d upended his life to be with her. She’d denied him the chance to make an informed choice. I felt terrible for him.
A couple of weeks into our friendship, she’d hounded him with threats to end her life and, terrified she’d harm herself, he went back to her. He said he was too afraid of being the cause of her ending her life.
We stayed in touch. We’d meet regularly - maybe once a week. I was so, so in love with him and vice versa. He was hoping that, as things were so damaged between them, all it would take was a little time and she would make the decision herself to end their relationship herself. He wanted her to be the instigator in that strong position when it came to and end.
After two years, I couldn’t take anymore. There would occasionally be random times where we’d go a whole week with no contact, and he’d blame work or tell me that she’d been in hospital after another ‘attempt’. One time he said he’d woken in the night to find her swallowing pills and had had to rush her in. I truly sympathised but I’d grown tired of telling him that he wasn’t responsible for her choices. We adored each other. He was caught in a trap and I couldn’t do it anymore. I’d seen some of the texts she’d sent him at times - cruel, nasty words. But regardless of all this, our affair wasn’t right. It was unfair on her. I don’t believe in ‘what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.’ My relationship with him went against all my morals. I worshipped him, but I ended it. So began a year of total heartbreak for me. I missed him terribly.
I tried to move on. I had a relationship and moved in with the new man after two years. But I just couldn't shake H. A year after splitting from my ex, and some failed dates, it was my mum who said, “your problem is, you never got over H”.
I’d never hidden my relationship with him at the time. All my friends and family knew. I’d kept him a secret from my kids, but everyone else knew, although i’d not let anyone meet him; I didn’t feel it was appropriate until I could say we were in a legitimate relationship.
My mum’s words threw me. I personally thought, after five years of no contact, that I was over him. Ten days later it was still niggling, so I decided to look him up. Social media had arrived during that five years, but he had no presence anywhere. I did eventually find him on LinkedIn.
I messaged him. I realised I wasn’t over him when I saw his reply drop into my inbox - I was shaking. We spent a week emailing and texting before we met. The second I saw him I knew I still loved him.
He was single. Had his own house. We were finally free to be together. And we really were amazing together. Things progressed quickly. I wasn’t expecting marriage as he’d always said he didn’t want to get married. But six months later he proposed. He said I was the only person he’d ever been so in love with, that made him actually want to be married. We set a date - two years away - for August 2013. The kids loved him although accepting a step-dad figure was stressful at times.
But then, two months before our wedding, I was clearing out a cupboard above the wardrobe and pulled out a box of his stuff all over myself. All his old work diaries came tumbling out. And there before me, in a diary from 2008 was an entry that read ‘final wedding payment due.’ He was still with his ex then and 2008 was a year after I ended it.
I was devastated. He’d told me I was the only person he’d ever wanted to marry. Bad enough, but he’d actually intended to marry the woman he’d previously been desperate to leave. Really?? Well okay. Perhaps he’d decided to make a proper go of it after I ended things. Their wedding never actually happened. Finances apparently. Eventually their relationship ended. But it was the lie that hurt me so much. And what other lies were there? If he could contemplate marrying her, she can’t have been anywhere near as bad as he’d made out, surely.
After we were married, we were chatting one night, talking about that two-year affair. I was saying how hard it had been for me and I wouldn’t go back and do it again. I said how frustrating it was going a week with no contact at times. He let it slip that they’d still taken holidays together. She had liked regular holidays and he couldn’t suddenly refuse to go. But they weren’t all sunshine and rainbows. I was mortified to find out he’d been abroad with her while I was wondering if no contact meant she’d done something terrible to herself.
I didn’t talk to anyone about these discoveries. Everyone loved him and our story and marriage was a fairytale to them. I was afraid of tarnishing his reputation with them. So i kept this to myself. It dented my trust in him, but eventually I got over it.
My daughter was diagnosed with depression last year. She’s self-harmed. After a break-up she took a ‘cry for help’ dose of pills and spent a night in hospital. I looked to hubby for support. Asked his advice given his experience of living with someone with severe depression. How could I best support D after coming out of hospital? He said he didn’t know. I said, “but you’ve had experience of this. Remember when you woke to find your ex shovelling down pills in the night?” He said he didn’t recall that happening. I’m sorry, but if I still remember it, then given that he woke to that terrifying scene, I’m certain it would be etched on his brain forever - IF it had happened.
So now i’m nine years into a relationship (and nearly six years married) with the love of my life and am pretty much convinced that everything he told me during that two years back in 2005, was a pack of lies. Bits and pieces coming out over the years which don’t correlate with the picture he painted back then. So not only do I now not trust a word he says, but my god, POOR HER if none of that was true. If she knew that was the picture he was painting of her, she’d be distraught. Maybe it was somewhere in between. Maybe she was ill. She could certainly be nasty. But maybe he embellished it.
I’m thinking he knew what a strong, independent lass I was and so the sob story would have to be good otherwise i’d have told him to sling it - crazy in love or not.
Again i’ve told no one about this latest revelation. And I’ve let it eat away at me for weeks, but haven’t been able to face the inevitable argument it’ll cause raising it with hubby. But it needs addressing. This one has massively changed my view of him. It’s affected my feelings for him. It’s affected my respect for him and it’s obliterated my sex drive.
The fairytale is well and truly damaged. Part of me feels it’s karma and possibly no less than I deserve. I love him still but I feel like this whole thing is based on lies, and I’m married to a man I don’t really know at all. Then of course how do I know he hasn’t had an affair while we’ve been together and made me sound similar? Maybe I wasn’t special after all - just gullible. Or maybe I’m totally paranoid and it’s not as awful as it seems in my head.
I could walk away, but my whole family loves him.
Inevitably I do have to talk to him, but am I going to believe anything he says? Should I just accept he told lies? I’ve made my bed, and I should just damned well lay on it? What would you do?