I Let my Husband Cheat

Low Key Shot of a Young Couple Embracing
Infidelity

Sarah the waitress – she gave him a blow job in a restaurant cloakroom.

Rochelle the salsa teacher – he fucked her on the floor and up against the mirrored wall of her studio.

Random girl at bar – she rode him on a park bench.

Fiona the personal trainer –  he took her up the arse in the gym showers.

And Estelle the Soul-singer – he fingered her in an alley after her gig.  

I know my husband cheats; not because I found a pair of panties in his car or smelt her pussy on his breath, but because he’s happy. My husband’s happiness means more to me than anything in the world.

Don’t you dare roll your eyes at me and I certainly don’t want your pity either. I know what you’re thinking, I’m a sad, pathetic, emotionally weak woman who knows her husband has and always will be unfaithful, yet can’t work up the courage to leave him because that’ll mean I would be left alone. Except, I’m the exact opposite of all your shallow misconceptions of me; I’ve got more intelligence in me than you will ever have in your entire life. I’m a judge, a bloody good judge. And I’m nowhere near weak. Day in and day out I look into the eyes of the darkest and most twisted individuals to crawl out of the gutters, yet I don’t even flinch an inch. They don’t scare me. Nothing can scare me, especially if you have been through what I’ve been through…

Three years ago exactly today, (happy anniversary me!) I was snatched moments from death by paramedics and then placed purposely in a coma by a surgeon, allowing him to work tirelessly to reattach my almost severed spine. Merely to wake up and be told by him that I would never walk again, but I should count myself lucky considering if that shard of glass dug any deeper, I would’ve been killed. Going through life knowing you’re living on borrowed time and that you were once a second or two centimetres away from death – that’s real fear. After the accident I went down a pill and depression filled spiral into blackness, only for the second time in my life to be snatched from the jaws of oblivion by the same surgeon who saved me the first time. Except this time it wasn’t with a scalpel, it was with true love.

The surgeon and the judge, Fuck Kim and Kanye, we were the real power couple. We matched each other for wit, drive, ambition and before we knew it, barely out of the hospital I was being wheeled down the aisle towards him on our wedding day. However, the best day of my life was quickly followed by the worst, when on our honeymoon we found out that the accident meant I could never have sex again – having sex for me was like putting my genitals in a blender, the pain was beyond excruciating. Regardless of that nightmarish night, instead of drifting apart, subsequently our romance blossomed brighter and fuller with each passing day. Whilst physical intimacy was an impossibility, our intellectual and emotional life was a spectrum of vibrant colour and joy.

For good or bad, at the end of the day men need sex. And as much as we women like to convince ourselves that they aren’t consumed with it, they are, it’s wired into the fibre of their very being and their every waking thought. Therefore, I made the greatest sacrifice imaginable. A sacrifice that could only be made by a woman completely secure within herself, her husband and the eternal love in her marriage; I sat him down one evening and told him it was okay to sleep with any woman as long as his heart always belonged to me. Being the good man he was, he spent hours proclaiming he could never tarnish our beautiful marriage or put me through such pain. But I told him, from the deepest part of my heart, that even the accident didn’t hurt as much as seeing him live an incomplete life everyday – eventually he relented.

At first he didn’t want to tell me about the women he slept with – they were many as I expected, come on, he was a fucking gorgeous, tall, black doctor. Yet, somehow being told every little excruciating detail: who she was, how she looked naked, how they fucked, somehow made it easier to stomach because it made the sex seem more like fucking than something with a hint of romance. And as another conciliation for me, I insisted he could never fuck someone we both knew, someone at work or one of his ex’s – he assured me the thoughts never entered into his mind. At the end of the day, it was just fucking and nothing more.

Once he was free to relieve himself physically with meaningless flings, when he came HOME he was ready to open his heart and soul to me without bounds. Now, we are happier than we’ve ever been… Does it hurt sometimes that these women can give him something I never could? Yes, it does a lot. But I love my husband more than anything or anybody in the world and I’m willing to make whatever sacrifices necessary to keep him happy. That’s what you do for the people you love.

So I don’t need your pity or judgment, because if you were in my position, you wouldn’t have the strength to live my life and make the sacrifices I’ve made.

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