The Decision

The Decision.

Aruba

He slept on the floor the night of the Midnight Call. I had 3 hours to decide if I was going to Aruba alone, or dragging him with me. It’s easy to have an opinion on this when you aren’t the one in the thick of it. In fact, I would have been screaming loudly to anyone in my position – “You fool! Leave the bastard at home. Let him wallow in his guilt.”

But here were my thoughts…

Thought #1
I was having an extremely hard time coming to grips with the fact that my husband had an affair. That my husband had a mistress! I mean, seriously… my husband had a fu*%ing mistress! You’ve got to be sh*tting me. So until I could process it and wrap my head around this bullshit that had just been dumped on me, I just wasn’t ready to share it with the world, let alone my entire family that was waiting for my arrival in Aruba. (Side note: I need to say… Huge high five to all you ladies brave enough to share your stories of the ultimate betrayal with those you love. I have yet to find that courage within myself… But I hope to soon.)

Thought #2
I needed this vacation, more than anything. I needed to feel the sun on my face and the sand on my feet. And quite frankly, I could not do it alone with an infant and toddler tagging along.

Thought #3
What kept rearing its ugly head was me leaving the country for a week and basically giving him a free pass to bang The Hussy to his heart’s content. The thought made me physically ill.

So at 4am the next morning, I told him he was coming with me. I had more questions. I wanted more answers.
Most of that week was a blur to me.
Mr. “My Penis Makes me Stupid” spent a lot of the time kissing my ass, taking care of the kids, and trying to be the good, loyal, doting guy he no longer was.

But what sticks out most in my mind was a moment in the airport, waiting to board our flight… just looking at him asking, “How could you do this? YOU were my family.” He broke down, and that was the first emotion I had seen.

If only that is where my story ended…