Funny that the word “affair” sounds so much better than it is. It sounds festive. Happy. Pretty and frivolous. Perhaps it is for the people in it. I remember my mind turning over the scant details I knew about my husband’s “affair” over and over in my mind. What hurt me the most was thinking about how much planning it took. So much planning. The big lie built on a mountain of tiny little lies told over days and days. Where did they meet? When did they meet? What did he tell me about where he had been? I have a hard time lying to a friend to get out of a dinner party. I cannot imagine how you lie at that level. That is the big leagues of deceit.

After the revelation, my husband wanted so badly for me to tell him: “Hey, these things happen. You fucked up. I forgive you because you look like you are really sad about this.” If only it were that easy.

I did not do what in retrospect I should have done the moment he told me about his affair. I should have thrown his ass out of the house. I should have dramatically thrown all of his clothes in the front yard. I should have taken a bat to the windows of his BMW. I should have torched something. But I have never been one to do anything impetuous. I am CAUTIOUS. I don’t make split decisions. By nature I get quiet and go inward when something is more than I can handle. I do not flail. At least not on the outside.

So, after he told me about his affair and after I wretched out most of my insides, I went to bed. Well, technically. I got in bed and laid there totally still. I listened to my dog breathing as he slept on the floor next to my side of the bed. He had run after me into the bathroom and had been right next to me ever since. Like all dogs, he sensed I was in trouble and he was not about to leave my side. Unlike my husband.

At one point my husband – who I had not seen since I retreated to the bathroom – peeked his head in the bedroom and asked me if I wanted him to leave. I told him I didn’t care what he did but that he wasn’t coming in here. I guess he slept on the couch that night. I remember that being a very long night.

My body was completely still but my mind has never been so frantic. Churning so fast I could not fully process any of the thoughts racing through my brain. I was in reverse, living through my entire marriage – trying to find the point of no return. When did we jump off the tracks? When did he meet her? When did this start? Were there clues? But I was also in fast forward – wondering what I would do if I he left. Could I do this all by myself? Could I support myself? Could I be a single mom? When was garbage day? How would we tell the girls.? Oh God, how would we tell the girls?

The next morning I heard my husband and my daughters getting ready for school. I heard him tell them that I wasn’t feeling good. They came in and gave me a kiss before they left for school. I started crying when I heard the front door shut. And I could not stop. I cried that big ugly snotty wailing crying. After awhile I got out of bed to get some kleenex and started roaming the house while I cried. I picked up photos in the living room and cried. I sat on the beds in my daughters’ rooms and cried. I sat in the middle of my closet and cried. At some point I got back in bed. I pulled the covers up to my chin.

My husband came home and made me lunch and brought it to me. He sat on the side of the bed. Who is she, I asked. He told me she was the girl who worked the front desk at the gym where we both worked out. I had a vague recollection of her. Long black hair. That is all I could conjure up. I was getting nauseous again. How old is she? 26. Ten years younger than me, I thought. How so fucking stereotypical, I thought. How Lifetime, made-for-tv movie.

Why, I asked. I don’t know, he said lamely. (To be fair, three years later and thousands of hours pondering this question I still don’t think there is a pat answer to that one.) What do you want to do? I asked. I don’t know. He said. What do you want to do, he asked.

I want to sleep. I want to eat. I want to be able to get out of bed. I want to stop crying. I want you to stop the internal bleeding. I want to erase the last 24 hours from my life and start over. I want you to take it back. I want you to leave. I want you to stay. I want to throw things at you. I want you to hold me and say you love me and will never leave me. I want the Earth to open up and swallow me whole. No, I want it to swallow you whole.