Saturday, June 9, 2012

So my ex-husband cheated on me. Now what? We’re already divorced.

When I left my marriage two years ago, I was not short on reasons to do so. The mistreatment of me and my kids, the lies that led to our financial ruin and the lies, lies and more lies.

Now it appears I can add one more to the list: Infidelity.

I recently found out that my ex-husband cheated on me during our 17-year marriage.

Whoa, wait, wait, wait… Let me back up a little bit… He cheated during our engagement. And then he cheated after we married.

It was common knowledge at his workplace. People in his office were practically taking bets that he’d never really make it to the altar.

Speaking of people in his office… You know where I’m going with this and you know who “the other women” were.  

What a cliché this has turned into.  

I won’t go into details on how I found out, but the lead was legit and it led me to the truth.

So my ex-husband cheated on me. Now what? We’re already divorced.

Do I confront him? Do I go take a Louisville slugger to his car and go all Carrie Underwood? (Sounds very therapeutic so I may roll with this one...)

Do I hunt down the women (yes, plural) and confront them? (And say what? “How dare you mess with an engaged/married man who was once mine but he turned out to be an asshole so I divorced him!”)

I can’t really explain how I feel. There’s some numbness but then there’s this faint yet annoying pain. Yet I feel this considerable hole. An emptiness perhaps? Or my gut telling me, “I told you so, stupid.”

I wish I had the words to really describe this. I think it would help me to better comprehend what I’m feeling because I don’t understand it myself.

I saw him today for the first time since knowing this. At first glance, I felt as if I had vomited in my mouth just a little bit.

When I realized my face was hurting from scowling so hard, I decided to take a different approach.

I straightened up my posture and pushed my perky boobs and tight ass to the heavens (I’ve been working out), took my daughter by the hand and said, “C’mon sweetie… Let’s go home.”

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*Note to readers: I originally wrote this in my journal a couple of months ago. I was uneasy and unsure about sharing this. But ya’ll know about my spring fling with the Spaniard so what the hell, right?