After settling into our new place for a few months, I started to notice a prostitute who hung out about two miles from our house. Given traffic patterns, my route home from work often took me by her. One night all the wrong ingredients came together: it was dark, she was there, and no one else appeared to be around. Let’s get this straight. I don’t recall saying to myself, “No, don’t do this.” I only said to myself, “Be careful to not get caught.” I drove her to an abandoned lot and paid for oral sex.
I saw her a few more times, for sex or oral sex. At first it was something like once every other week, on average. There was no pattern. The timing just depended on availability. Eventually I noticed that she was not the only one. Driving one to three miles off my route home would take me past others. I don’t even know how many I used. I didn’t bother to keep track. I couldn’t keep track.
They were cheap and available. It got to a point where I was looking for one once or twice a week. About half of that time I found one. About a year into this pattern, I found some disgusting cheap motels that rented rooms by the hour. I started taking them to the hotels for 30 minutes of sex.
Looking back on it, the whole pattern was disgusting. I carried on that way right up until the beginning of my third and final affair — the one I described at the beginning of this blog, the one that led to D-day.
Meanwhile, I continued to live a double-life. Back in my normal life, the kids were learning to ski and enjoying it. TL and I took advantage of their love of this new activity and spent time skiing with the kids. On weekends, I played baseball with our oldest. We also did weekend activities with kids and friends. Our oldest child was involved in music, which made us all proud. I thought the “normal” part of my life at that point was really quite good.
One incident showed some hints of my underlying problems and my double-life. I was arriving home late more and more often. TL was understandably upset. Between my misplaced obsession with working longer than my co-workers and my actual lies to hide my life with prostitutes, my time at home on weeknights was evaporating.
At one point our oldest child even noticed it and said I should get home earlier. Denying to myself that my lateness was due largely to my double-life, I got angry at our child for saying that. I told myself TL had planted that thought with the child. I was wrong. Most of all I was wrong to squeeze out my “normal” life with such stupid, sick compulsive behaviors
That’s our story. You’ll recall how we already described the horrors of my third affair, D-day, and second D-day, and how we took an Affair Recovery class and worked with our first two counselors. The rest of our story is about the reconciliation work we have done over the past three years and our way forward, to the future.