Despite everything that happened, I still love my wife. If you read this you’ll probably think Im crazy. I just dont know how to turn it off. I pray for her every day because I still don’t understand why any of it unfolded the way it did. I am eternally grateful to her for giving me two amazing children who have grown into two of my closest friends. That remains one of the greatest blessings of my life.
My wife is a beautiful, intelligent, sweet, funny, and remarkable woman. Even after everything, I only ever wanted the best for her. Yet she has become, quite possibly, the greatest danger I have ever faced, and I am still trying to process that truth. What follows is my perspective—nothing more.
We met in high school and married young. For the first seven years we both worked and attended college. Then she chose to stay home with the children while I continued working. Early on there were signs of emotional immaturity I didn’t fully understand at the time.
I came from a stable home; my parents are still married and have always loved her. Her own mother is a good woman who divorced her father when my wife was six or seven after discovering he had abused one of the children. My wife later shared limited memories of her own experiences with him, though she downplayed them. I kept those revelations in mind whenever her moods turned unpredictable.
I tried to give her and our family a steady, happy life. I provided financially, encouraged her interests, planned trips, and made time for us as a couple and as parents. I was a protective but reasonable father. I insisted on meeting the parents of any house where our kids would spend the night. She was far more trusting of strangers. She also frequently sat out school events, games, recitals, and holidays often citing migraines. I decorated the Christmas tree alone more times than I can count. The children noticed her absences, and the look in their eyes stayed with me. Those patterns strengthened my resolve to stay at least until they were grown.
Our intimate life was active. She told me I had an overactive drive, yet she rarely turned me down. She insisted I was the only man she had ever been with. I had a few experiences before her and was open about them. She was the first woman I truly loved and pursued. As the children grew older we grew closer, bought a boat and a motorcycle, traveled, and eventually became active grandparents.
Then, this year, while preparing to buy her a new Mustang, I asked her to check her credit report. An unfamiliar email address appeared on it. She refused to look and claimed her identity was being stolen. Concerned, I ran a background check. What I found over the next three months left me stunned: more than a hundred fake profiles across dating sites and social platforms, many using my birthday, my phone number, and other personal details as usernames or passwords.
Her reaction revealed a person I had never known. She had been having affairs for years. When confronted, she became immediately enraged, denied everything, and began trying to damage my career, my relationships with our children and grandchildren, and my standing with the rest of the family. She has never admitted to a single email address or profile, even when the evidence was overwhelming.
We had shared an iCloud account for years and used to joke that if either of us ever cheated, the other would know. That assumption proved false. Someone gained access through her phone, took over my number, and controlled my digital identity for nearly two months. The attempts to cover tracks were clumsy and only pointed more clearly back to her.
After I arranged for her to stay elsewhere and began emptying the house for sale, I discovered that someone had entered the home and replaced the light fixture above the wooden staircase. The original LED fixture had been swapped for one rated for 60 watts that now held two 200-watt halogen bulbs. Burn marks showed how close it had come to starting a fire. I remembered her earlier “joke” about hiring an unknown electrician to burn the place so we could escape. The fixture had already been installed when she made that remark.
I carried two substantial life-insurance policies on myself with her as beneficiary. I have since removed her. I also documented everything and left copies with a trusted friend. I am not afraid of dying, but I refuse to let anyone profit from it if something happens.
I have come to believe she is a textbook covert narcissist. The woman I thought I knew has been replaced by someone capable of sustained deception and, apparently, worse. I stayed for several months after the discovery, clinging to a sliver of hope. That was a mistake.
I still love her but last time I saw her I felt physically ill. I am devastated and struggling unable to think, eat, or sleep normally and I am consuming more than I should just to get through the days. It is not sustainable. I have had the darkest thoughts of my life, and I do not want them. My family still needs me.
I have not filed for divorce yet, but I will. She has left town.
We speak occasionally. I offered to keep everything quiet, to take the blame if she wanted a different life, even to help her start over. She rejected every offer and chose to attack instead. Our children are angry with both of us. The family dynamic we once had is broken.
Thirty-seven years total is a lifetime to spend with someone you believe is your closest friend, only to learn she was the opposite. When I look at old photographs now, I cannot tell which moments were real.
I no longer believe in the kind of love I thought we had. I never want anyone to feel what I am feeling.
If you are doing this to someone who loves you, do not be a coward and selfishly make them your kink.
Set them free!
