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One of the saddest things about my husband having an affair was coming to the realisation he was willing to risk everything for the thrill of it.

Willing to throw away a 20+yrs relationship.

Willing to risk his wife walking out.

Willing to risk becoming a weekend dad to his kids.

Willing to risk looks of disgust from those who knew the truth.

Willing to put his wife through an emotional wringer.

But of course the cheating spouse thinks of NONE of these consequences when having an affair.

Having an affair is all about selfishness, ego, and cowardice.

‘Selfish’ to think YOUR thoughts and YOUR feelings not only matter, but take priority over everything else.

‘Ego’ because all the man wants is his ego inflated after his bitch of a wife knocks him down over and over again (according to him).

And ‘cowardice’ because instead of confronting the issue with his wife like a fucking man, he takes the easy way out and seeks solace/sympathy/understanding in the arms another woman. A goddam stranger. A NOBODY!

AND FOR WHAT?

It defies belief that a person you thought you knew so well turns out to be such a fucking prick.

But you can’t change what has happened. For the rest of our lives, he and I will both need to live with the fact that he cheated on me.

HE. CHEATED. ON. ME.

Almost four months on, it still pains me to say it.

But at least I’m no longer walking through the supermarket aisles with tears rolling uncontrollably down my face.

Or pulling over on the side of the road and having a quiet cry.

Or sitting staring into space for indefinite periods wondering when it all began falling apart.

No. I’m beyond that.

But it still fucking hurts that he was willing to risk it all. Everything he ever knew. Everything he loved. Everything he created.

Everything that ever mattered.

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