I overheard my wife tell her therapist on speakerphone,”I’ve never actually been attracted to him. I fake everything. Every compliment, every intimate moment, every I love you.
But he’s such a loyal provider. I’d be stupid to leave.” Her face when she realized I was standing there was the last time I saw her.
Now she’s made 215 attempts to contact me through every person we’ve ever known. Throwaway for obvious reasons. Just needed to vent this [__] out somewhere.
I’m not the type of guy who normally posts personal crap online. I’m 42, been married to Jen, 39, for almost 15 years. Two kids, 13 and 11.
I’m a civil engineer, not exactly setting the world on fire with excitement, but I’ve always been proud of providing a solid life for my family. We’ve got the house in the suburbs, the vacations every summer, college funds growing steadily. I thought we were good, not perfect, but solid.
Turns out I’ve been living in a [__] fantasy world. 4 weeks ago, I got home early from a site visit. One of those rare times when everything goes right and you finish ahead of schedule.
Thought I’d surprise Jen. Maybe suggest we pick up the kids early from their activities and go get dinner somewhere nice. I pull into the garage and I can hear her voice drifting down from our bedroom window.
It’s cracked open and she’s talking loud. At first, I figure she’s on a call with her sister or something. Then I realize it’s Thursday at 2:00 p.m. Her therapy session.
She’s been seeing this therapist for about 8 months, said she was dealing with some midlife stuff and wanted to work on herself. I supported it 100%. Mental health is important, right?
I’m not proud of what I did next, but something in her tone made me pause. Instead of going in through the garage door like normal, I quietly used the side entrance that leads to our backyard. I could hear her more clearly through the patio doors.”Honestly, Dr. Matthews, I’ve never actually been attracted to him.
Not even in the beginning. He checked all the boxes, you know, stable, dependable, wanted kids, but there’s never been that spark. Not once in 15 years.”
I froze. My brain literally could not process what I was hearing. This had to be about someone else, some hypothetical, not me, not us.
Then she continued, her voice so casual it was like she was discussing the weather.”I fake everything. Every compliment, every intimate moment, every I love you. I’ve gotten really good at it over the years.
Oscar-worthy, really. But he’s such a loyal provider. I’d be stupid to leave.
Especially with the kids and the lifestyle we have. I mean, where else am I going to find someone who handles everything so reliably?” The word reliably came out like it was something distasteful, like being reliable was some kind of character flaw.
I must have made a noise or something because she suddenly appeared at the patio door. Our eyes locked through the glass. Her face, Jesus, I’ll never forget that face.
Not horror at being caught, not shame at what she’d said, just annoyance. Like I’d interrupted her favorite TV show. Then it shifted to something else.
Calculation. I could literally see her brain working, trying to figure out how to spin this. What lies to tell, what performance to put on.
I didn’t give her the chance. I walked up to the door, said,”I heard everything. Don’t bother.”
and walked away. Didn’t take anything but my wallet and phone. Got in my car and left.
I checked into a hotel downtown, turned off my phone, sat on the edge of the bed staring at the wall for about 6 hours straight. 15 years. 15 [__] years of my life and not one moment of it was real on her end.
The kids. Christ, the kids. That’s what eventually broke me out of my stupor.
I had to figure out what to do about them. I called my brother around midnight, told him everything. He and his wife offered their guest room for a few days, no questions asked.
Next day, I got a lawyer. I didn’t contact Jen. The lawyer handled everything.
I went back to the house 2 days later when I knew Jen would be at her yoga class to pack some clothes and necessities. I left a note telling her I would be contacting her through my lawyer from now on. I arranged to see the kids that weekend at a park.
Explained that mom and dad were having some grown-up problems, but that both of us love them more than anything. Standard divorce [__] that no kid should have to hear. Meanwhile, the storm was brewing.
Jen started with texts, dozens of them, calls that I never answered, emails with subject lines ranging from”Please read this” to”You’re destroying our family” to”I didn’t mean it.” When I didn’t respond, she went nuclear, started contacting everyone we know, my parents, my siblings, my co-workers, my [__] dentist, for Christ’s sake.
Always with the same message. I’d misunderstood what I heard. She was just working through issues with her therapist.
It was therapy talk that didn’t mean anything real. I’ve kept a rough count of every attempted contact through me or others. It’s over a hundred now, easily.
Over 100 attempts to gaslight me into believing I didn’t hear what I absolutely, positively heard. The most [__] up part? Some people are buying it.
My own mother called me last week, suggested maybe I should hear Jen out because marriage takes work, and everyone has doubts sometimes.”Everyone has doubts sometimes.” Is that what we’re calling this? Faking every”I love you” for 15 years?
My lawyer says I’m doing everything right. The divorce is proceeding, though it will likely take 6 to 8 months to finalize in our state. The temporary custody arrangement we’re proposing is 50/50, which tears me up inside.
The thought of my kids spending half their time with someone capable of such a profound, sustained lie. But, they love their mom, and she loves them. That part at least, I believe is genuine.
I found a month-to-month apartment near my brother’s place. Going to work. Going through the motions.
I haven’t cried yet. Not once. I think I’m still in shock, to be honest.
Yesterday, I ran into one of Jen’s friends at the grocery store. She cornered me by the frozen pizzas, told me Jen is falling apart, and a shell of herself, and desperately sorry. Asked me if I could find it in my heart to at least talk to her.
I just said,”I’ve heard enough from Jen to last a lifetime.” and walked away. The worst part of all this, worse than the betrayal, worse than the lies, is that I don’t know what’s real anymore.
Every memory is contaminated. Our wedding day, the birth of our kids, vacations, anniversaries, random Tuesday nights on the couch. Was she acting through all of it?
Was there ever a genuine moment? I’ll never know. I don’t hate her.
That’s the strange thing. I just feel nothing. Like someone scooped out all my emotions and left this hollow shell that goes through the motions of living.
If you’ve read this far, thanks for listening to my rant. Not sure what advice I’m looking for here. Maybe just needed to put this somewhere.
Feel free to tell me I’m an idiot, or that I should give her a chance to explain, or whatever. Won’t change anything, but at least I got this off my chest. Edit: Wasn’t expecting this to blow up.
Can’t respond to everyone, but wanted to address some common questions. One. Why was she on speakerphone with her therapist?
Jen wasn’t actually using the speakerphone feature, but she had the volume turned up high and our bedroom window was open. Our therapist had previously cautioned her about this, but she always said she needed to hear clearly and didn’t think anyone would be home. Two, have you talked to the therapist?
No, and I won’t. Doctor-patient confidentiality means they couldn’t talk to me anyway. Three, maybe she was just venting and didn’t mean it.
After 15 years together, I know when Jen is being honest versus when she’s bullshitting. The way she spoke, casual, matter-of-fact, like she was stating obvious truths, that wasn’t venting. That was confession.
Four, what about marriage counseling? What exactly would counseling fix? Can’t rebuild trust with someone who’s been performing instead of living authentically for our entire relationship.
Five, you’re punishing her by not letting her explain. It’s not punishment, it’s self-preservation. Update, six weeks after original post.
Things have escalated in ways I didn’t expect. Thanks for all the support on my original post. The contact attempts have continued relentlessly.
I’ve stopped counting individual messages, but Jen has tried reaching me through at least 30 different people now. She showed up at my office two weeks ago, not making a scene exactly, but persistent enough that my receptionist had to firmly tell her I wasn’t available.
My boss, thankfully a reasonable guy who’s been through a messy divorce himself, was understanding, but it was humiliating. Then came the flying monkeys. Her parents showed up at my brother’s house unannounced.
Luckily, I had already moved into my apartment by then, but they still tried to convince my brother I was overreacting and throwing away something special. He told them what I’d heard, word for word. They left looking shell-shocked.
After discussing with both my lawyer and a child psychologist, I agreed to joint sessions with Jen solely to discuss co-parenting. The kids are struggling. My son, 13, asked me last night when I was coming home.
Not if, when. Like this is just some temporary blip that will resolve itself. My daughter, 11, has gone quiet, which is worse in some ways.
With both parents’consent, they’re now seeing a therapist specialized in helping children through divorce. It’s expensive, but worth every penny if it helps them process this mess. I finally broke down and had a conversation with Jen.
Not in person, couldn’t handle that, but a carefully worded email outlining exactly what I heard, why it can’t be misinterpreted, and why I won’t be coming back. Told her to scale back the contact attempts, stop sending people to plead her case, and focus on helping our kids through this transition. Her response was illuminating.
Started with more denials, then shifted to,”Even if I did say those things, they weren’t really about you.” What? Then moved to blame.
Apparently, I never gave her the emotional connection she needed, so she had to find ways to cope. So now it’s my fault she lied for 15 years? Classic.
The last paragraph of her email, though, that’s what really confirmed I’m making the right choice. She wrote,”I know I can make you happy if you just give me another chance. I know exactly what you need.”
Not,”I love you.” Not,”I’ve realized what I almost lost.” Just,”I know I can make you happy.”
Another performance she’s willing to put on. We’ve worked out a temporary custody arrangement through our lawyers. The kids stay at the family home with Jen during the week because of school district boundaries, and they’re with me every weekend, plus Wednesday evenings for dinner.
I’m paying my share of the mortgage until we decide whether to sell the house or if one of us will buy the other out. Some are harder than others. I keep having these moments where I almost forget, where I reach for my phone to text her about some dumb thing like I always used to.
Then it all crashes back and I feel sick all over again. My brother says I’m handling this like a robot. Maybe I am, but falling apart isn’t an option right now.
The kids need at least one stable parent and apparently that’s always been me. To everyone who sent supportive messages after my first post, thank you. Knowing I’m not crazy for drawing this hard line has been more helpful than you know.
As for Jen, well, she’s gotten what she wanted in a way. I’m still providing child support, helping with the mortgage, maintaining the kids’activities and lifestyle as much as possible, but she’s lost her audience of one. The performance is over.
Final update, 6 months later. This will be my last update. After this, I’m putting Reddit aside and focusing on rebuilding.
The divorce is moving forward, though not yet finalized. Our state has a mandatory waiting period and there are still some financial details to work out. Our temporary custody arrangement has been working well enough that we’ve agreed to make it permanent in the divorce decree.
Weekdays with Jen, weekends plus Wednesday evenings with me. I’ve noticed something both heartbreaking and validating. When the kids first started staying at my apartment, they seemed hesitant, careful, like they were walking on eggshells.
Over time, I realized why. They’re more relaxed with me than with Jen. My son let slip that at home, they never know which mom they’re getting.
Sometimes she’s fun and loving, sometimes she’s detached and irritable. With me, they always know what they’re getting. Consistency, reliability, the very things Jen mocked.
Jen has started seeing someone new, some guy from her gym. My daughter mentioned it casually like it wasn’t dropping a bomb in the middle of our pizza night. Honestly, I felt nothing.
Not jealousy, not anger, not relief, just nothing. If anything, I pity the guy. The contact attempts have finally tapered off to occasional messages on holidays or kids events.
Her latest approach was having her sister deliver a handwritten letter. I returned it unopened. Whatever new script she’s written, I’m not interested.
I’ve started therapy myself. Turns out being married to someone who’s been acting instead of authentically engaging leaves some scars. My therapist says I have trust trauma, which sounds like psycho babble, but accurately describes the pit in my stomach whenever anyone pays me a compliment or says they care about me.
I immediately wonder if they’re lying, performing, manipulating. Work has been my salvation. I’ve thrown myself into it, earned a promotion I wasn’t even seeking.
My boss pulled me aside last week, told me he was concerned I was working too much. Probably true, but it’s better than sitting alone in my apartment replaying 15 years of lies. I haven’t dated.
Can’t imagine doing so anytime soon. The thought of being vulnerable with someone makes me physically nauseous. Maybe someday.
What I keep coming back to is how preventable all this was. If Jen had just been honest at any point, we could have addressed it. Maybe still ended up apart, but without the carnage.
Instead, she chose to lie day after day, year after year, building a life on a foundation of sand. There’s no grand lesson here, no silver lining I can point to yet.
Just a man in his 40s starting over, trying to be the father his kids deserve while figuring out who the hell he is outside of a marriage that turned out to be an elaborate stage production. To anyone going through something similar, trust yourself.
Trust what you know to be true, and remember that it’s better to be alone than to be with someone who sees you as a prop in their life rather than a partner. I’ll be okay eventually. The kids will be okay.
Even Jen will be okay, I suppose. We’ll all just be okay separately. Thanks for listening.
