My husband has to go out-of-town tomorrow night. He rarely ever has to spend an overnight. He’s only going to be about an hour away, and he has asked me to go with him. The logistics of me going are not easy. The kids have practice, school, and we are having furniture delivered on Thursday, which I need to be here for. Essentially I wouldn’t even be there with him 24 hours, closer to 12 hours. I would be spending the evening with him having dinner and attending an after hours thing and then just spending the night. It really seems sort of silly for me to go, but he is insisting.
In the past, before the affair, the rare times my husband went out-of-town was actually a treat for me. I’m sure it was a treat for him too. Getting away from each other is good for any relationship. And it was always sort of fun to chat on the phone with each other from separate beds. The last time he went out of town before the affair, I don’t even think either of us texted. I’m not even sure we were capable of that. It was always phone calls. The very last phone call I received from him on the road that I remember was the day after his first time with her. He called to say he was on his way home and he must have told me at least ten times he wished I had been there. At the time, I thought he was just being his usual self, a little romantic, and he did always seem to miss me when he was away. But, this time, the “I wish you had been here” was all guilt. I wrote on his FB page that day that I thought he was the greatest. It’s still there, November 3, 2010. Although, it likely began on the 2nd and ended on the 3rd. I wouldn’t find out for almost three more months what was going on. And November 3 will always be imprinted on my brain and my heart as the pain of thinking I knew him so well that if something ever went wrong I instinctively would know. I didn’t know. I had no idea. Nothing was off or out-of-place. Everything was exactly the same, right down to the nightly sex.
I didn’t know him so well that I would instinctively know when something was wrong.
I have no doubt that Bobbie remembers these dates well. I also have serious doubts that he does. She wrote on a friend’s FB wall, shortly after me finding out, after the friend posted a link to the venue they had been at that night “One of my favorite memories was there.” Her dream-my nightmare. According to her and my husband it was a night of flirting and drinking and so on and so on. I wonder if it is still one of her favorite memories.
So, tomorrow night, six years to the day, I will be out-of-town with him. Another work event, a different location, different us. She gave him a blow job that night. She asked for more, but he told her no. He said he couldn’t because he had “me”. He didn’t say “me” though-he said my name. He was weak, but not weakened. He gave in only a little, and in his drunken state it didn’t last long. What if he had told me as soon as he got home? What if? The next time she saw him she “thanked” him for telling her no. And that was the beginning of her game. She had to save face because this guy told her no AND she was setting herself up as looking so great.
I’m still wondering what would be different if he had just told me.
But, here’s the good thing, had he not been going out-of-town and asked me to go, I never would have remembered the dates. Maybe I would have later, but it definitely hasn’t been on my mind. I will call that success, and another barrier crossed. It’s November and I hadn’t thought about the fact that this is the month they began their affair.