Chapter V: These are My Confessions

I want everyone here to know that this entry has been the hardest to wrap my head around. It has taken so long to unveil because the material is sensitive; not just for me but for an innocent child in this situation. While I am trying to get my story out there and think it is important for this audience to learn from my mistakes, please know I didn’t make the decision to speak about this lightly. I agonized over how to say this; how to explain what he did or if I even should. Unfortunately, the truth here is ugly and, in my opinion, we are not dealing with a logical, empathetic human being. We are speaking about someone that truly cares and loves only one person in his life; himself.

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Friday, April 27th, 2018:

Things were off between us; however, I had been looking forward to this night. Every other Friday, we had dance classes together. We were choreographing our first dance to a song. Our song. Goodnight, Moon by Go Radio.

It’s funny, isn’t it? How there are songs that could mean so much to you then but now you can’t even stand the sound of the melody. Like a bad case of food poisoning, the mere taste or smell just sickens you. That’s how many songs have now become since he confessed.

I remember I dressed up in a green pleated, velvet dress; the same one I wore when we had shot our engagement pictures. I knew it would sway whimsically as he spun me around during our routine.

After our dance class, we took an Uber over to Ramen-San in River North. We sipped cocktails and made small talk, but the air was tense. I knew something was on his mind. He ordered dessert, something he rarely did, like he was trying to sweeten the news. I took my first bite and he said, “We need to talk.”

At first, I thought he was going to want to rehash my friendship with my male coworker. We had become close friends and my fiance was not having it. In previous relationships, I never had any issues maintaining male friendships. I even had a best male friend through high school and college that I had platonic sleepovers with. We’d watch movies and hang out in his basement until we both fell asleep on our respective couches. I did this even while dating others; they trusted me and respected the relationship. That’s how I felt it should have been with him.

Trust is so important; however, sometimes people project their own guilt onto others. He knew he had been doing something wrong and projected that onto me. I suspect, in a way, it made him feel better about what he had done and what he was doing.

So let’s get one thing straight, since he is out there claiming this is my fault. I never cheated on him. I never would have. I was crazy about him and loved him completely. I’m not perfect and certainly have my faults and made mistakes in the relationship but I did not do that. All good? Great, moving on…

Funny thing is, that’s how he started his confession, telling me all I had been doing wrong. He finally stopped and said, “there’s more to this but I don’t want to discuss it here.”

I don’t remember quite how he said it but I knew something was wrong. I actually texted my mom on the way home:

“Something’s wrong; I think he’s going to break up with me.”

“Text me when you can,” my mom replied.

We got home and we sat on our respective couches. He on one couch and I on the other that faced him. He slouched over his knees, head down and hands folded. I didn’t know what was coming but I knew it was going to be bad.

Then finally, after what seemed like hours of silence:

“I cheated on you.”

I was in a state of shock for the rest of the conversation. I never would have guessed that he had cheated. I began just asking matter-of-fact questions calmly and rationally. I wasn’t mad. To be honest, in that moment, I wasn’t anything.

“When?”

“While you were in Seattle.”

“When?”

“March 8th.”

I remember I was dumbfounded. He cheated on me while I was planning his surprise party; admittedly before.

“I don’t understand. You gave me such a hard time about my friend but you had done this already?”

“I know.”

Our conversation was a slow and steady ping pong game of short questions and answers.

“Why did you do it?”

“I thought you were cheating when you were planning my party.”

“So you first inclination was to go sleep with someone?

He had no answer for that.

“Who is she?”

He said her name. I knew who it was. His ex he had dated before me. A hair dresser up North.

“You drove all the way out to McHenry to see her? That’s a pretty blatant and calculated decision to hurt me.”

He had no answer for that either.

“Okay, so what do you want to do? I told you I thought we should go see Todd again about these trust issues but you didn’t want to. Do you want to go see him and figure this out now?” I said calmly.

Todd was our marriage counselor that we had seen previously as a prerequisite to get married at St. James Cathedral downtown. I had left him a message after my fiance’s outburst the month before to make an appointment for an extra session. I wanted to go and make sure we had no issues with trust. He refused to go with me but cheated that next week.

He looked at me almost bewildered; puzzled. I think he thought I was going to throw him out as soon as I heard what he had done. To be honest, I think he was hoping for that, because then he didn’t have to tell me what was coming next.

I remember so clearly this point of the conversation. It took a turn. He stood up and threw his hands on the back of his head; pacing behind the couch he was once calmly sitting on. He started to cry.

“That’s not all, Lindsay.” He never said my name unless it was bad.

“She’s pregnant.”

At that point he burst into tears. I am not sure if it was because he was sorry he hurt me or if he was sorry he had made this mistake for the second time.

See, here’s the thing. He had gotten her pregnant while they dated. She wanted to keep the baby, but he didn’t love her and thought a baby would ruin the life he had worked so hard building. He had confided in me regarding this at the beginning of our relationship. Back then, I felt for him. Mistakes happen. This time, however, it was not a mistake. It was a calculated decision. For him, a calculated decision to cheat. And in my honest opinion, a calculated decision for her to have a baby with him, and maybe get back at me a little for being the next girl he dated; the girl he left her for. (Honey, you can have him!)

The tears kept flowing for him. The only time I teared up was at this point. I started to cry because I was watching the person I loved so much struggle though so much pain. I went over to the couch next to him and hugged him.

“You know how you had your dress fitting and I said I was in Schaumburg?” He said through tears.

“Yes?”

“I wasn’t. I wrote her a letter and brought it up there. I pleaded with her not to go through with it. I tried, Lindsay. I’m so sorry.”

I don’t recall much more of that night.

He made a bed on the couch. I went to the bathroom and threw up.

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