My thanks to ErikThread for editing this and making it a much better story. As happens more often than not — I fiddled with the edited version a little. So, any errors that you still see in the story were introduced by me.
My wife was carrying on with her boss and everyone knew about it except, of course, me, the husband, who was the last to know. My first reaction was, understandably, anger. I wanted to hurt her badly and to execute a revenge that would become a benchmark in days to come.
But then came sadness when I thought of self-destruction that would accompany my revenge. After I worked through these two primitive emotions I came to point of Nirvana. I concluded that I just did not care anymore about her, our marriage, or my future.
I met Sandy when she moved next door when we were just kids. I was all of eight years old and she was five. Pretty soon we were doing everything together. We never dated anyone else and we never fought. Ours was a life that people dream of. I was a geek-jock. I had the option of taking either a football scholarship or an academic scholarship when I went to college. Sandy enrolled at Caltech with me -- on an academic scholarship too.
We were each other's first and only bed partners, and I was quite content and thought Sandy felt the same way. I was devastated when I found out about her liaison. Let's face it, though, we are not living in the early 19th century anymore. The odds are stacked heavily against any marriage lasting a lifetime.
When I confronted Sandy about the affair she denied it outright and only after realizing that I knew everything did she come out clean. She cried and gave all the usual excuses. She said she was not in love with him and had been swept by his power and his style. When I suggested a divorce she said she would fight me to the death before granting me one, and since I did not have any proof of her infidelity, it would be a tough contest for me to win.
So I took the whole deal pragmatically and decided to do what I thought best -- to have an outside sexual encounter of my own. It didn't go as well as I thought it would. At first I got an erection but I couldn't sustain it. Why was I feeling guilty when I was the wronged party?
The next morning is where we pick up live telecast as I enter our house after a night out and approach my wife who is sitting in the kitchen.[comment: If it's a live telecast, this part should be present tense: later you can switch back to past if you wish.]
"Here is all the evidence you will need to get a divorce from your husband," I said as I sat down in front of Sandy and pushed a heavy brown envelope in front of her.
She looked at me silently and opened up the envelope. She could see the man who married her so many years ago sleeping with a street whore. The images were graphic, and although the face of the woman was not clear, there was no doubt that the man in the pictures was certainly her husband of five years, the boy who had known her since he was eight.
"But I absolutely I do not want a divorce." She spoke barely above a whisper.
"I thought that would be the normal, next step. A two-year-long affair, a rich man and apparently a better performer in bed. Why is there any hesitation in demanding a divorce from your no-good husband?" I was a little confused about why Sandy was reluctant to ask for a divorce.
I continued to confront her. "If you do not initiate a divorce you will be served with divorce papers by the next month." I knew there was no chance for our marriage to survive and I told her so.