Home » A Wasted Life » It Can’t Be True. It Can’t Be True. It Just Can’t Be True.

It Can’t Be True. It Can’t Be True. It Just Can’t Be True.

I answered the telephone and it was B******, my work partner.  She had picked up an extra shift.  She had picked up extra shifts before and so had I but we had never called each other.  Why she decided to call me on that particular day, I will never know.
She was telling me about a call that she had just run.  A lady was in some distress and B****** had to examine her.  She said the woman was “full of chlamydia.”  Then she said she told the woman “honey, you have to be careful who you’re having sex with.”
I asked her why she told her that.  She was a little incredulous and said “because chlamydia is an STD!”  I said “It is?”  She said “YES!”
My mind started going in circles.  I managed to finish our conversation and when we hung up, I just sat there….stunned.  I kept remembering the word “chlamydia.”  I had seen that word before.
And that phrase….”you’ve got to be careful who you’re having sex with.”
I remembered the prescriptions that my doctor had given me “for the treatment of chlamydia.”  I never bothered to read the description of what the drugs were for or ask Dr. B**** what “I had” but I remembered him saying “this won’t cure it but it might ease the symptoms.”
I remembered how many times he had looked at me and said “you have to be careful who you’re having sex with.”  I would just laugh at him because I thought he was teasing me.
I remembered bringing the prescriptions home and showing them to J*** while giggling and saying “Dr. B**** knows what we’ve been doing.”  I didn’t think anything about it when he turned a little red and didn’t even look at me or make a comment.
I couldn’t move.  I couldn’t breathe.  I felt like I had been hit between the eyes with a two by four.  I don’t know how long I sat there before I went back downstairs.
I made my way down the stairs without falling and sat down on the sofa.  I kept repeating to myself, “it can’t be.  It can’t be.  It just can’t be.”
J*** came home from his golf game and I could hardly look at him.  I didn’t know what to do or think or say.
The rest of the day was spent as usual.  He was on the computer, reading a book in the bathroom and not being particularly interested in what I was doing.
I had to work the next day and I tried to act as normally as I could when I got there.  I had told B****** a few weeks earlier, that my thirtieth anniversary was coming up and my daughter thought we should renew our vows.  I thought it would be a cool idea and J*** seemed to be interested.
B****** asked me what “we had done so far” and I told her we hadn’t done anything.
My mind was still doing somersaults and I was thinking about how just the week before, I had the worst sore and didn’t know why. I couldn’t stand up or sit down without hurting and my panties were sticking to me.
I almost said something to J*** when I got home but I didn’t want him to think I was nasty.  How could he not think I was nasty when I thought I was nasty?
A few months earlier, I told him that my sons’ girlfriends’ daddy had come home and given her mother an STD.  I said “isn’t that terrible?” J*** never said a word and never even looked at me.  I just thought he was incensed that I was talking about something so personal and he did not like to talk about personal things.
I was clearly in the denial phase and I denied it over and over and over.  I kept up appearances at work and tried to at home, although I had a hard time looking at J*** and I didn’t want to talk to him.
I came home one day and he asked me if I would come pick him up from the hospital.  I asked him why and he said he was having a hernia repaired.
I didn’t even know he had a hernia.  As I said, he didn’t like to talk about anything personal.  I asked him how long he had known about it and he said six months.  Six months?  SIX  MONTHS?  I guess if he had actually come to bed at night instead of reading a book, I might have noticed.
He had his surgery and I picked him up.  The doctor let him go early because I was an EMT.  I got his pain drugs for him and took care of him like I would have wanted  him to take care of me.
I told B****** that I wasn’t going to follow through with the renewal of our vows.  I tried to cover up by saying I thought it was “hokey.”  Marriage to J*** seemed to be just a meaningless piece of paper anyway, so why did we need another one?
I went deeper and deeper into my withdrawal.  I had completely shut down.  For the first month, J*** seemed oblivious.  How can you notice that somebody has completely shut down if you never notice them any other time?
He never came over and took my hand and asked me if there was something wrong.  He never asked me if I was mad at him.  He never asked me if I didn’t feel good.  He would just snarl at me with that disgusted, impatient, contemptible sneer.  He would yell and say “you’re a piece of work” and then slam a cabinet door.  It was all about him.  In his mind, he was being mistreated and I was the bad guy.
Now, he was the one being ignored but it was unacceptable because he was J*** H***.
I guess he had reached the end of his rope one day when he was going to play golf and I didn’t have anything to say to him as he was leaving.  He screamed “you are a fucking bitch!”  Then he went to the back door and screamed again “I’m guess I’m going to love you for the rest of my life but YOU ARE A FUCKING BITCH!”  He slammed the door so hard that I thought he was going to break the glass.
He came home later, started drinking and said something to me.  I made one of my “pffft” gestures.  He stood over in the kitchen, with his hands on his hips and started mocking me.  It was so ugly.  I wish now that I had gone over and slapped his face but I didn’t.  I knew how it felt to be slapped in the face.  It hurt and it was demeaning.
Our anniversary was coming up and we went to F****** to see our children and………celebrate.  I couldn’t eat and I still had trouble looking at him.  Still, he never asked me what was wrong.  He just looked at me like he was looking at somebody who was less than human.
We made it back to C********* and I waited until the end of November to confront him.  We went to our restaurant to “have a beer.”  He drank and I just sat there.  I finally looked at him and said “I don’t know what happened to us.”  He immediately raised his voice and said “you won’t fucking talk to me.”
I looked at him and said “that’s because I know that at some point in our thirty years together, you have had a tryst.”
He looked at me with a blank stare.  He paid the bill and we went out and got in his car.  I said “you haven’t denied it.”  He said “I’m not going to deny or admit anything when you won’t tell me what you’re talking about.”  I asked him if he didn’t know what a tryst was.  He said “yeah, I know what it is.”
He had told me in the past that he had “no problem lying about generalities but usually told the truth when confronted with specifics.”
I didn’t have specifics.  We were doing another dance.  He never once asked me what made me think he had been unfaithful.  He just kept circumventing my questions.
It took over four hours for him to finally admit it.  He looked down and started picking at the rug and said “you’re right.”
I remember feeling like I had been gutted.  I swallowed hard and then asked him who it was and he said that he didn’t want to tell me.  When I asked him why, he said “because it’s too embarrassing.”  I told him to go ahead and tell me anyway.
He said………. “it was L***** .”

4 thoughts on “It Can’t Be True. It Can’t Be True. It Just Can’t Be True.

  1. It’s so sad to see the similarities. I lucked out in that, somehow, the whore ex-wife never contracted an STD that I knew of. There was one time when I had some issues that I *thought* was a yeast infection, that may have been otherwise, but I never had it formerly diagnosed. Despite her pension for not using contraception, she lucked out and remained “clean”…/sigh.

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    • You do know that a disease can lay dormant for more than ten years, don’t you? Even HIV can lay dormant.
      I’m glad your whore came out clean….mines sure didn’t…nor did I. I’m glad he kept the same kind of woman….she didn’t care because she already had it. Yay for her.

      Liked by 2 people

      • That sucks:-( But, where I may have lucked out in the STD department, I will forever carry the emotional scars of all the cheating, lying, etc……How people can be so callous is beyond me!

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        • They do it because they only care about themselves. Loser could have cared less that he gave me a disease…but he made sure to tell his tramp that he had it. Lucky her…she didn’t care…because she already had it. You know what they say….it’s the people you trust that you have to watch out for.

          Liked by 1 person

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