HomeWrecker is…well, she’s a home wrecker. Let’s just start there. If she had, in a moment of weakness and passion, slept with my husband and then regained her senses, I’d hold zero against her. I’ve had enough life experience to know that the reality is, you can have the best intentions, but when that first passionate moment happens, it can totally shut down the logic centers of the brain. I would have been able to be understanding of weakness like that. If it were one night, my marriage may have been able to recover from it…if Honey had repented of it.

But that’s not what happened.

If Honey is to be believed (and trust me when I say how ridiculous I know that sounds) she knew ‘everything’. In one of the rare moments that Honey stooped to reply to my bothersome pleas for answers in those first weeks, this is what he told me. Correction. He said, and I quote ‘I’ve told her everything, because she deserves to know.’

The fuck you say?!?

SHE deserves to know. Not me. Not your wife. Not the person that’s loved and served you and trusted you for 14 years of her life, not the woman that just had your two precious babies. Nope. SHE deserves to know the whole truth. Me, I have to rip the truth from your lips to learn you’re having an affair, and once you bail, I have to play detective online to even find out who she is. But she knows all about me and the intimate details of our marriage, right? The balls on this man. The balls!!

Is this reality? Did he really just say those words to me? Yep, and here’s why. He absolutely, without a doubt, doesn’t care about me anymore. Not just as a wife. As a human being. He’s over it. He. Doesn’t. Care. He doesn’t care if his actions hurt me or the kids, he doesn’t care if I am harmed by the truth of his horrific treatment of me coming to light, he just does not give a shit whatsoever. This is something that the mind of a wife that’s been tricked and deceived simply can’t come to terms with. Not right away, at least, so this observation is in retrospect. At the time, I still refused to believe that was the case. I most certainly do now.

Honey’s drive away from us took 2 days, and in that time, I reached out to him by phone and text only to be resoundingly ignored. He replied with curt answers to a couple of things, but the bulk of it was ignored completely. On day 3, once he’d gotten there, he removed me from FaceBook, and blocked me. Hundreds of pictures of his kids. Future pictures of his kids. Just blocked it all. This told me that he was trying to stop me from seeing her, and probably trying to stop her from seeing me. It was during these 2 days that the thoughts about wanting to find out who HomeWrecker was really kicked in to high gear.

Who the hell is this person? Doesn’t she know he’s married and has kids? If she’s ever met his room-mates, they know he is, so she’s got to know he is, right? Wait, do they not know he’s married? Or all they all some crew of obtuse, unethical scumbags who know he’s married but don’t mind because they’re all out there doing the same thing to their wives?

So I got online and looked at the phone records. I tracked who he was texting the most, and then I ran a search on those numbers looking for someone with the first name he’d given me. But I couldn’t get a match. Around that time, I decided with certainty that I was going to contact her. It was, at first, my way of having some measure of control in a situation where every decision effecting the rest of my life had been taken out of my hands. I wanted to talk to her, get the real story. I wanted to tell her that if she did in fact know about me and the babies, that she was heartless and cruel, but that no matter what I thought of her, NO ONE deserved to have Honey and his pack of lies in their life without a heads up. She has kids. I considered not warning her. Then I thought about what I’d want if the roles were reversed. It was for this cocktail of reasons that I’d resolved to reach her. Nothing was going to stop me, especially not Honey.

So I texted him around day 4, and this was our conversation…

Is Homewrecker’s phone number 555-555-5555?’ I could picture him squirming on the other end, unsure of what to make of this, and unsure of what I was planning. It felt good. But only for a second. He texted back, ‘No, why?’

Is it 555-555-5556?

No, what is all this about?

I’m going to find her, Honey. I’m going to find her, and I’m going to speak to her. So you might as well tell me her number now so I don’t have to text all these numbers one by one and embarrass you by asking friends and guys you work with if they’re your mistress.’

What are you going to talk to her about?

None of your business. Is it 555-555-5557?

She doesn’t want to talk to you, and besides she knows everything. We are getting a divorce, wife. Get that through your head.

Text everyone on our phone records, then? Got it. I’m GOING to find her, and I’m GOING to speak to her. Get that through YOUR head, Honey.

No response.

I was hyperventilating. This level of antagonism between us was completely brand new to me. You have to remember, with Honey it was all smiles until the final hours. I know couples who can be acrimonious and bicker and say things like this to each other, but not us. We were just mellow and got along the majority of the time. Fights weren’t even fights. They were kinda…useless. Because Honey has walls around his walls. He’s non-confrontational to a fault, so I had to work around this every time any strife came up.

When he texted so flatly that she didn’t want to talk to me, I could sense that his his veneer had cracked slightly. And so when I’d FINALLY see his fake ‘I’m a good guy, bro! Smile! Everyone like me!’ persona crumble slightly, I’d revel in the opportunity to get in a few digs to see if I could get him to unravel all the way. Unraveling is real. I wanted, and still want, for the real slim shady to stand up. I don’t know who this man is, all I know is that he wears a mask to the world that is a complete fabrication of what’s really going on inside.

Eventually I found her phone number. Or what I thought was her phone number. I texted ‘Is this honey’s girlfriend? This is his wife.’ I was trembling with an inner terror at the thought of actually completing my objective. What if she was cruel to me? What if she laughed at me? These were things I could not have happen. Not in those early days. I felt like I was on the thinnest of emotional wires, balancing above a chasm. There was no way that my fragile mind could handle a response like that.

I got a response that same day. ‘No, but this is her friend and I don’t appreciate this text because my fiancé saw it, and now he thinks that I’m having an affair. You clearly had problems in your marriage and shouldn’t be causing problems in other people’s lives.’

Bingo…

Many initial thoughts. First, if this is her friend, she MUST be having an affair with Honey too, otherwise the 412 text messages at all hours are sure gonna be hard to explain to HomeWrecker. Secondly, if you’re some secondary party, how is it that you have such insight into the ‘problems’ in my marriage that Honey had concocted? This was no friend. This had to be HomeWrecker.

To be continued…