I've heard about sites you can go to on the Internet and read about cheating wives. Who would want to write about the pain it causes to the husband? I suppose there are stories about cheating husbands too, but not so many. Maybe because of the double standard. Who knows? There must be equally as much pain brought on by either the wife or the husband cheating. Some wives make a mistake and some go out deliberately to cheat. I'm not sure which category my wife fell into but I know the pain would be the same. It was for me anyway.
Debbie and I grew up in the same neighborhood and attended the same school, had the same friends, partied together and finally, discovered we were in love. Several months after college we married and settled down. I went to work for an insurance agency and Debbie started to work as a bank teller. Neither job paid much of a salary and we could only afford a one bedroom apartment in a decent neighborhood.
For thirteen months I considered us a happy couple. The stars then aligned to take that happiness away from me. I was out of town at a three-day sales meeting and would be back home Friday evening. Thursday was the girls' night out at the bank. Several of Debbie's co-workers got together most weeks and had a few drinks. My meeting concluded a day early and I headed home. I had to pass by the girls' favorite bar, so I stopped, thinking that she might still be with her friends. Her car was still in the lot. I met Carol, Deb's friend, as she was coming out of the bar.
"No Zeke, Deb got plastered and John drove her home about two hours ago. He said he had to pick up his daughter and he would drop her off. I thought you were out of town until tomorrow?"
"The meeting finished a day early. Thanks Carol, I'll head home." I knew John slightly as someone that worked with Debbie at the bank. There were no lights on in the house, so I figured Debbie was in bed. I hung my coat on a hook and set my bag in the little alcove. I went into the kitchen. There was an empty beer can and an almost empty bottle of wine sitting on the table. I flicked the living room light on. Debbie was sprawled on the couch. She lay there with her blouse unbuttoned, her bra loose and undone. Her skirt was bunched around her waist and her panties were on the floor beside her shoes. There was evidence all over her that she had had intercourse. One of her breasts had a hickey on it.
I had a problem. If this was consensual, Debbie and I were through. If it wasn't, then I was going to have a meeting with John. I tried to rouse Debbie for questioning. She was passed out. I knew where John lived. No time like now to ask him. I drove over and never hesitated when I reached his door. I began hammering on it.
A cute little woman came to the door and looked around the safety chain. "Is John here?"
"Yes of course, but he is sleeping. What do you want with him at this time of night?"
"How long has he been home?"
"About three-quarters of an hour. Why?"
"One more question. What time did he pick up his daughter?"
"He didn't. He called about six-thirty and I picked her up. What's this all about?"
"I'm Zeke Collins. John and my wife Debbie work together. They were at a bar and he left with her about eight o'clock and drove her home. I just got back in town a little while ago. Debbie is drunk and passed out. She has definitely had sex and I'm trying to find out if she was raped or otherwise."
"I'm not going to let you in. I will ask him if he had sex with your wife though. You wait here."
In about two minutes I knew what a domestic disturbance was. The wife was screaming and John was yelling back at her. This went on for a little under ten minutes. "John admits he had sex with your wife, but he said she invited him in and came on to him. He said he wanted to leave, but she wouldn't let him."
"Do you believe that? She is smaller than he is."
"Maybe I don't believe him, but he wouldn't rape anyone."
"No, but he might get someone drunk and take advantage of the situation when they were in no condition to resist. Debbie was way too drunk to drive when she left the bar. I know that for a fact. And I wonder who bought the bottle of wine she drank after reaching home. It isn't the kind she drinks so he must have supplied it. Well I'll find out when she wakes up. I think you've got yourself a problem, lady."
By the time I reached home again my anger was just barely under control. I wanted to do some damage. I called 911 and reported that I thought my wife had been raped and asked what I should do. It wasn't long before a squad car arrived. One of the officers was a woman and she had a rape kit with her. When she saw the condition Debbie was in, she suggested she be transported to the hospital where professionals could evaluate whether it was rape or not.
Debbie was carried out on a stretcher and I followed to do the paperwork. Two hours later she was moved from emergency and admitted, never once waking. Debbie was going to be some surprised to find herself in a hospital bed when she finally woke up. It still would take several hours for the alcohol to wear off. There would be a police person to question her when she did come awake.
It was almost two a.m. when I crawled into bed. I tossed and turned and finally got up at six and made myself some coffee. I felt like leaving, but I had to know what transpired last evening. This was so out of character for Debbie. At least it was since we had been married. Before we began to get serious and became engaged, Debbie swore that she would de-nut me if I so much as looked at another woman after we were married. I had taken it to heart and never considered cheating on her.
We both were far from virgins when we fell in love. While in school I was pretty wild, but I was beyond that now. Debbie and I had never shared experiences, but I assumed our lifestyle had been comparable. Needless to say, I was pissed and angry. My wife, if she wasn't raped, had certainly let herself be put into a situation where she had little control. But just maybe she was willing for it to occur and would use the excuse that she was inebriated and couldn't help it. Either way, the trust I had in her had been sorely tried.
I was at my desk on time. Before arriving I had called the hospital and the nurse assured me that my wife was awake and had been given something to reduce the hangover. I was asked if I wished to speak to her. I declined. It was a long day and I expected her to call. About three I again called the hospital and found out that Debbie had been discharged and had left in the company of a police officer. I didn't see any reason for them to hold her and they did say she would be questioned about whether she had been raped or not.
I closed down my work for the weekend and headed home. Immediately as I opened the door, "You son-of-a-bitch, you've humiliated me and I may lose my job over what you did. Not only that, you've destroyed John's marriage. His wife kicked him out after you left their house last night. What in hell were you thinking?"
I was surprised, for this was a person I didn't know. "Were you raped or not?"
"No, of course not."
"Then the sex you had was consensual?"
"No, it wasn't, but it was just sex. There was no need to screw everyone's life up. I made a mistake, that's all."
I stared into her eyes. I saw no guilt there, just anger. "Deb, listen to me. What did you say you would do to me if I ran around on you after we became engaged?"
"It is, that's all. Zeke, I made a mistake. Let's just forget it."
"I can't forget it. Have you ever been intimate with anyone else since we were married?"
There was the slightest hesitation and then Deb went on the attack again. "No, of course not, what do you think I am? Damn it Zeke, you're as much as calling me a whore. I'm telling you I made a mistake in riding home with John. That's all there is to it."
"If that's the way it happened, it sounds like you were taken against your will. I want you to file rape charges against John."
"No. I won't."
"Suit yourself, then. I don't know what this is going to do to our marriage. I'm pretty unhappy right at the moment."
Not even contrite, Debbie said, "Just get over it Zeke." I turned and walked into the living room to read the paper. Dinner was served at the same time as usual. Debbie plunked down chop suey in front of me. I hate chop suey!
I was quiet all evening, mostly from being puzzled by my wife's actions. I watched the ten o'clock news. None of it registered, I was that upset. Tonight I had the wish that we lived in more than a one bedroom apartment. It was either sleep with Debbie or on the couch where I had found her last night. Not much of a choice.
Debbie took a shower, spending a long time. When she came out she was dressed in a sexy nightgown and had a scent on that I loved. "Come to bed, Zeke. Make me forget my mistake. I love you and I'm sorry we had to fight about it. Come love me."
I tried and Debbie did all the things she could to arouse me. Nothing worked. I finally gave up and turned away. Debbie lay sobbing. Was that supposed to make me forgive her, or was she really regretting what had happened a mere twenty-four hours ago? I didn't know. Sunday we avoided each other the best we could.
Monday evening Debbie had not started dinner when I came home. She had been crying. I ignored her. I ordered a pizza and as she was serving it, she stated, "I was let go today. I don't have a job."
.... There is more of this story ...