I have rewritten this post about six times because every version sounds fake.
Unfortunately, it isn’t.
I found out my husband was having an affair because he took the woman he was sleeping with to a morning show taping and they got picked out of the audience.
She knew he was married.
I want to get that out of the way immediately because that’s one of the first things everyone I’ve told has asked me.
Yes. She knew about me.
She knew my name.
She had seen pictures of me.
She knew we still lived together.
And based on some messages I found later, she thought the whole situation was funny.
I’m 56F. My husband Todd is 59M. We’ve been married for 28 years.
We have two kids, both adults. Our son is 27 and our daughter is 24.
I’m using fake names because my daughter is already horrified enough by all of this and I don’t need somebody she went to high school with finding this post and sending it around.
Todd works in medical sales and travels pretty frequently. Not constantly, but enough that if he tells me he’s going somewhere for two nights, I don’t interrogate him.
Last month he told me he had meetings in New Jersey on a Monday and Tuesday.
He left Sunday afternoon.
I packed snacks for him.
I actually hate admitting that part.
Not because packing snacks for your husband is embarrassing, but because now when I think about that Sunday, I remember standing in our kitchen putting almonds and those little Babybel cheeses into a bag while he was upstairs getting ready to go spend two days with another woman.
He kissed me goodbye.
I told him to text me when he got there.
He did.
Made it. Traffic sucked. Love you.
I said:
Love you too. Sleep well ❤️
I have stared at that exchange probably fifty times since this happened.
Anyway.
Tuesday morning I was working from home.
I had the TV on in the background.
I don’t usually actually watch morning television. It’s just noise while I’m answering emails.
There was some segment where the hosts were outside with the audience.
I wasn’t paying attention.
Then I heard someone say the name Todd.
I looked up.
There was my husband.
I knew immediately.
There was no “maybe that’s someone who looks like him.”
It was Todd.
He was wearing the gray quarter-zip I bought him for Christmas.
Standing in a crowd outside the studio.
In New York.
Not New Jersey.
And there was a blonde woman beside him.
My first thought wasn’t affair.
It was honestly:
Who the hell is that?
Then:
Why is Todd in New York?
Then:
Why didn’t he tell me he was going to a TV show?
I actually took a picture of the television with my phone because I thought I was going to text him something like:
BUSTED skipping work 😂
That’s how innocent my brain still was.
The host had picked them because they were doing some audience thing about couples.
I don’t remember the exact segment name.
Something about how well you know your partner.
The host asked:
“How long have you two been together?”
The woman said:
“Almost three years.”
Todd laughed.
I stopped moving.
I remember putting my coffee down very carefully because suddenly my hand was shaking.
The host asked if they were married.
Todd said no.
The woman said:
“Not to each other.”
And laughed.
I swear to God.
That’s what she said.
Not to each other.
The host laughed too because obviously he had no idea what she meant.
Todd did not laugh.
That’s the first moment I knew something was seriously wrong.
Because I know his face.
He had that look he gets when someone says something they weren’t supposed to say.
The host said something like:
“Uh-oh, there’s a story there.”
The woman smiled and said:
“It’s complicated.”
Todd immediately said:
“It’s not that complicated.”
She looked at him and went:
“Sure.”
Still smiling.
I felt sick.
I grabbed my phone and called him.
He didn’t answer.
Of course he didn’t.
He was on television.
I called again anyway.
Then I texted:
Why are you in New York?
I watched him on the TV while waiting to see if he’d reach for his pocket.
He didn’t.
The host asked their names.
Todd gave his.
The woman said hers was Brittany.
I knew that name.
Not well.
But I’d heard it.
Todd had mentioned a Brittany from work.
I couldn’t remember exactly what she did.
I searched my texts.
Sure enough, there were messages between Todd and me where he’d mentioned her.
From eight months earlier:
Dinner with Paul, Brittany and the distributor people tonight. Don’t wait up.
Another one:
Brittany screwed up the hotel reservations so we’re staying at the Marriott instead lol
And one from me:
Tell Brittany she owes you a drink 😂
I actually had to put my phone down.
Because apparently Brittany had been sleeping with my husband at the time.
And there I was…
making jokes with him about her.
I wish I could explain what that does to you.
You suddenly feel humiliated by your own memories.
Things that were completely normal when they happened start feeling embarrassing.
The host started asking them questions.
Nothing scandalous at first.
Favorite food.
Who takes longer to get ready.
Who apologizes first after an argument.
They were good at it.
That’s what hurt.
Todd knew she hated olives.
She knew he slept with the TV on when he traveled.
She knew his Starbucks order.
He knew she was afraid of birds.
These are stupid things.
But they’re intimate stupid things.
I know Todd sleeps with the TV on.
I’ve known that for 28 years.
Now she knew too.
The host asked:
“Who’s more romantic?”
Brittany pointed at Todd.
Todd pointed at Brittany.
She said:
“He’s lying.”
The host asked why.
She said:
“He sends flowers.”
I don’t know why that was the thing that made me cry.
Flowers.
Todd hasn’t sent me flowers in years.
And I don’t even care about flowers.
I’ve told him not to waste money on them.
But suddenly I cared very much that Brittany got them.
I called my daughter.
She answered:
“Hey, Mom.”
I said:
“I think your dad is on TV with another woman.”
There was a long pause.
Then:
“What?”
I told her the channel.
She turned it on.
I could hear her television through the phone.
Then she said:
“Who is that?”
“I don’t know.”
Another pause.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“Why are they acting like they’re dating?”
That’s when I started crying.
“I don’t know.”
She said:
“Where is Dad supposed to be?”
“New Jersey.”
“He’s in New York.”
“I know.”
“Have you called him?”
“Twice.”
“Don’t call him again.”
That surprised me.
“Why?”
“Because I want to see what he says.”
My daughter is much more strategic than I am.
So we watched.
Together.
On the phone.
Then the host asked what I now think was probably supposed to be the cute final question.
“If you two got married tomorrow, where would you go on your honeymoon?”
Brittany immediately said:
“Italy.”
Todd said:
“She’s been trying to get me to Italy forever.”
Brittany laughed.
Then she said:
“He has some paperwork to take care of first.”
The host laughed.
A few people in the audience made that “oooooh” sound.
Todd looked furious.
Not visibly furious to a stranger.
But I knew.
My daughter said:
“What paperwork?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I knew.
Me.
I was the paperwork.
Twenty-eight years of marriage…
reduced to paperwork Todd needed to “take care of” before he could take Brittany to Italy.
The host teased him.
“Sounds like you’ve got some work to do, Todd.”
Brittany said:
“I’ve been telling him that.”
And then she looked directly at him and said:
“Tick-tock.”
I will never forget that.
Tick-tock.
She knew.
There was no possibility anymore that she’d been told I was dead or divorced or that we were roommates.
She knew he had a wife he needed to get rid of.
My daughter said:
“Mom, I’m coming over.”
I told her she didn’t need to.
She said:
“I’m already putting shoes on.”
By the time she got here, the segment was over.
I had rewound it.
We watched it again.
I don’t know why I did that to myself.
My daughter kept pausing.
“Look at his hand.”
His hand was on Brittany’s back.
“Mom, look.”
“I see it.”
“That’s not a coworker.”
“I know.”
Then she said:
“I know who she is.”
Apparently she’d seen Brittany before.
Not in person.
Instagram.
Todd followed her.
My daughter found her account.
Public.
I don’t think I’ve ever hated social media more.
There were no obvious pictures of Todd.
Nothing where they were kissing.
But once we knew what we were looking for…
He was everywhere.
His hand holding a beer across a restaurant table.
His shoes at the bottom of a beach picture.
The sleeve of one of his jackets.
A man’s reflection in a hotel mirror.
Then my daughter found a picture from seven months earlier.
Brittany was sitting at a restaurant.
Caption:
When he finally escapes the wife for the weekend ❤️
I stopped breathing.
My daughter said:
“Oh my God.”
There were comments.
One of Brittany’s friends had written:
Behave 😂
Brittany replied:
Never.
Another friend:
Is this HIM???
Brittany:
🤐🤐🤐
I felt like I was going to throw up.
There it was.
Proof.
Not only did she know.
Her friends knew.
I was a joke.
Some faceless wife somewhere…
whose husband needed to “escape.”
My daughter kept scrolling.
I told her to stop.
She didn’t.
Honestly, I’m glad she didn’t.
There was another post.
Flowers.
Caption:
Being the other woman has its perks 😂
That one was from more than a year ago.
I took screenshots.
My daughter took screenshots.
We found a Valentine’s Day post with a bracelet I’d never seen.
Caption:
He did GOOD this year. Sorry not sorry.
I knew exactly where Todd had been that Valentine’s Day.
With me.
We had dinner at home because he said restaurants were overpriced on Valentine’s Day.
He grilled steaks.
We exchanged cards.
Then he left the next morning for a work trip.
Apparently he gave Brittany jewelry somewhere in there too.
My daughter said:
“She’s disgusting.”
I didn’t correct her.
I still don’t.
I understand that Todd made vows to me and Brittany didn’t.
I understand he’s more responsible for destroying our marriage.
I am not confused about that.
But I absolutely reject this idea that the person knowingly sleeping with somebody else’s spouse has done nothing wrong because “she didn’t make vows.”
Brittany knew I existed.
She mocked me publicly.
She accepted gifts bought with money from my household.
She joked about Todd needing to divorce me.
She wasn’t tricked.
She participated.
Both things can be true.
Todd betrayed me.
And Brittany behaved horribly.
At 11:16, Todd finally texted.
Hey sorry. Meetings ran long. Call you tonight.
I stared at it.
My daughter actually laughed.
“Meetings?”
I typed:
How was the show?
The typing bubble appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared.
Disappeared.
Then nothing.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Finally:
I can explain.
I don’t know why cheaters say that.
Explain what?
Was Brittany a hologram?
Did someone force his hand onto her back?
Had he accidentally been dating her for three years?
I replied:
Come home.
He called immediately.
I didn’t answer.
He called again.
My daughter said:
“Answer.”
So I did.
He said my name.
Not hello.
Just:
“Lisa.”
That’s me, by the way.
Lisa.
I said:
“How long?”
Silence.
“Lisa, please let me—”
“How long?”
“Two years.”
I almost laughed.
“Brittany said almost three.”
Silence.
“Okay.”
He sighed.
“Closer to three.”
Even then.
Even caught on national television.
He shaved a year off first.
I said:
“Does she know you’re married?”
Long silence.
“Yes.”
“Does she know we’re still together?”
“What does that mean?”
I genuinely couldn’t believe him.
“It means does she know you sleep in my bed?”
Silence.
“Yes.”
My daughter covered her mouth.
I hadn’t expected that.
For some reason…
I thought maybe Todd had at least told Brittany our marriage was dead.
Apparently not.
“Does she know we went to Florida together in March?”
“Yes.”
“Our anniversary dinner?”
“Lisa.”
“Does she?”
“Yes.”
I started crying.
He said:
“I’m sorry.”
I asked:
“What does she think of me?”
“What?”
“You’ve been sleeping with this woman for almost three years.”
“She knows my name.”
“She knows where you are when you’re with me.”
“So what have you told her about me?”
“Nothing.”
Bullshit.
I said:
“She posted about you escaping your wife.”
Nothing.
“She posted about being the other woman.”
Nothing.
“She joked on television about you needing to take care of paperwork.”
Still nothing.
Then he said:
“She has a weird sense of humor.”
I think that was the moment something in me snapped.
Not loudly.
I didn’t scream.
I said:
“Don’t defend her to me.”
“I’m not.”
“You just did.”
“I just mean she posts stupid things.”
“About me.”
“Not about you specifically.”
That actually made me laugh.
“Oh, good.”
“She was making fun of some generic other wife.”
“Much better.”
He went quiet.
Then:
“I never wanted you to find out this way.”
My daughter whispered:
“He never wanted you to find out at all.”
I repeated it.
“You never wanted me to find out at all.”
He started crying.
“No.”
At least that was honest.
I asked:
“Are you in love with her?”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
It hurt so much more than I expected.
Even after everything I’d seen.
“Are you leaving me?”
“I don’t know.”
I laughed.
“You’ve had almost three years.”
“I know.”
“She’s telling you tick-tock on television.”
“I know.”
“She’s waiting for you to divorce me.”
“I know.”
“Do you want to?”
“I don’t know.”
And that…
more than anything…
showed me what my marriage had become without my knowledge.
Todd had two women.
One at home.
One waiting.
He hadn’t chosen because he didn’t have to.
We were both still there.
Except only one of us had agreed to the arrangement.
I said:
“Well, I know.”
He stopped.
“What?”
“I want a divorce.”
He immediately started sobbing.
“Lisa, don’t.”
I almost laughed again.
“Why?”
“Please don’t make a decision right now.”
“YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND.”
My daughter jumped.
That was the first time I yelled.
“YOU TOOK HER TO A FUCKING TV SHOW.”
He said:
“I know.”
“YOU LET HER MAKE JOKES ABOUT ME IN FRONT OF THE COUNTRY.”
“I didn’t know she was going to say that.”
“But you knew she thought it.”
Silence.
That was the point.
Maybe Todd hadn’t planned for Brittany to announce our situation to a morning-show audience.
But he’d created a relationship where my marriage was an inconvenience they discussed.
Where I was paperwork.
Where getting away from me was funny.
Where she could say “tick-tock” and he’d know exactly what she meant.
I said:
“Don’t come home tonight.”
“Lisa.”
“Go wherever you’ve been going for three years.”
Then I hung up.
My daughter hugged me.
I cried so hard I gave myself a headache.
Eventually…
she ordered Chinese food.
I couldn’t eat.
She made me drink water.
Around six…
someone rang the doorbell.
I thought it was Todd.
It wasn’t.
Flowers.
Huge arrangement.
Roses.
White lilies.
Beautiful.
The card said:
I’m sorry. Please let me explain. I love you. — Todd
My daughter read it.
Then looked at me.
“Do you want these?”
“No.”
She carried them directly outside and put them in the garbage bin.
Normally…
I’d say that’s wasteful.
That night…
I didn’t care.
At 8:30…
I was lying on the couch when my phone buzzed.
Instagram.
Message request.
Brittany.
I almost didn’t open it.
My daughter said:
“Do it.”
So I did.
It said:
Lisa, I know you’re upset and I know today wasn’t how anyone wanted this to happen. But before you decide I’m some horrible person, you should know Todd has been unhappy for years. I didn’t break up a happy marriage. He came to me because something was already missing. I hope eventually you can understand that.
I read it three times.
No apology.
Not one.
Not:
I’m sorry.
Not:
I shouldn’t have done this.
Instead…
She wanted me to understand her.
I handed the phone to my daughter.
She said:
“Oh, fuck her.”
Pretty much.
Then another message came.
I also don’t appreciate you blaming me for what your husband chose to do. I’m not the one who made vows to you.
There it was.
The line.
The one people love.
She didn’t make vows to me.
True.
So I answered:
You’re right. Todd broke his vows. You just knowingly slept with someone else’s husband for almost three years, mocked his wife online, accepted gifts paid for with marital money, and sat on television joking about when he’d get rid of me. I’m comfortable judging you for your own choices.
She saw it immediately.
Typing bubble.
Then:
You don’t know the whole story.
I replied:
Neither did I. That was apparently the arrangement.
Then I blocked her.
Was that petty?
Probably.
I don’t care.
Todd came home two days later.
Not because I invited him.
Because he wanted clothes.
My son was there by then.
He’d flown in after my daughter called him.
Watching Todd walk into our kitchen and realize both of his children knew…
was the first time I saw genuine shame on his face.
My son didn’t yell.
Which was almost worse.
He just asked:
“Was she worth it?”
Todd started crying.
I left the room.
I couldn’t listen.
Later…
after he’d packed…
he came into the bedroom.
I was sitting on the bed.
He looked around.
Then said:
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
I stared at him.
And maybe this sounds cruel…
but I said:
“That’s because it’s only been happening to you for two days.”
He looked at me.
“It’s been happening to me for three years.”
I just didn’t know.
That’s the part I’m having the hardest time explaining to people.
Everyone else learned about the affair when I did.
So to them…
the marriage blew up Tuesday morning.
To me…
my entire recent past blew up with it.
Three birthdays.
Three Christmases.
Vacations.
Sex.
Arguments.
Sunday mornings.
Hospital appointments.
My mother’s funeral.
Our daughter’s college graduation.
Every memory now has a second version…
where Todd knew something I didn’t.
And apparently Brittany did too.
I keep wondering if he texted her from my mother’s funeral.
I haven’t checked.
I don’t know if I will.
There are some things I might be better off not knowing.
Todd is staying with his brother.
I’ve spoken to an attorney.
I’m not changing my mind about the divorce.
Todd keeps saying he ended things with Brittany.
I don’t know whether that’s true.
And, strangely…
I don’t care as much as I thought I would.
Yesterday he told me:
“I chose you.”
I said:
“No, you didn’t.”
He looked confused.
I said:
“You had almost three years to choose me.”
“You chose yourself.”
“And then I removed one of your options.”
He cried.
I cried afterward too.
I’m not nearly as strong as this post probably makes me sound.
I still miss him.
That’s the humiliating part.
I miss the person who ruined my life.
Sometimes I wake up and forget for five seconds…
and I reach toward his side of the bed.
Then I remember Brittany saying:
Tick-tock.
And I feel sick all over again.
I don’t know what happens next.
I don’t know whether I’ll ever date again.
I don’t know if I’ll forgive Todd.
I don’t know if our kids will.
I don’t even know if I’m supposed to forgive him.
Right now…
I’m mostly trying to get through mornings.
Which is ironic, I guess.
Because before all of this…
a morning show was just something I put on in the background.
Now I’m pretty sure I’ll never watch one again.
UPDATE:
I wasn’t planning to update this quickly, but a lot has happened and I can’t sleep anyway.
Also, I want to clarify something because I’ve gotten variations of the same question from basically everyone I’ve told in real life:
No, Todd and Brittany were not coworkers.
I misunderstood that at first because Todd had mentioned her name in connection with work trips so many times.
They met because of his work.
She worked for a company that sponsored some conference he attended almost three years ago. After that, whenever he said things like “Paul and Brittany and the distributor people,” he was basically inserting her into legitimate work stories so her name wouldn’t sound unfamiliar if it ever came up.
Which is actually pretty clever.
I hate giving him credit for that, but it is.
There was also no meeting in New Jersey the week of the morning show.
None.
Todd took PTO.
I found that out because I asked him.
He took two vacation days to go to New York with his girlfriend and told me he was working.
I keep discovering little things like this and every one makes me feel stupid all over again.
Anyway.
Todd came over Saturday to get more clothes.
My son, Evan, was still here.
Our daughter Molly was here too.
Todd asked if we could talk alone.
I said no.
He got annoyed.
Not angry exactly.
But he said:
“Lisa, this is between us.”
And Molly immediately said:
“You brought it on television.”
I shouldn’t have laughed.
I did.
Todd did not.
Eventually the kids went into the living room, and Todd and I sat at the kitchen table.
He asked me again not to file for divorce yet.
I told him I’d already met with an attorney.
He cried.
Then he asked if we could do marriage counseling.
I said:
“What would we be counseling?”
He said:
“Our marriage.”
I said:
“No, specifically. What problem do you think we need help solving?”
He didn’t understand what I meant.
I said:
“If you were unhappy, and you’d told me you were unhappy, and we’d drifted apart, and then you cheated once, I could at least understand what counseling would be FOR.”
“But you had a girlfriend for almost three years.”
“You had a whole relationship.”
“You weren’t confused for one night.”
“You built another life and came home from it.”
He said:
“I know.”
That phrase makes me insane now.
I know.
He knows everything after the fact.
Apparently he knew very little while actively doing it.
I asked him if he’d really ended things with Brittany.
He said yes.
I asked when.
“Tuesday.”
The day I found out.
Of course.
I asked how she took it.
He said:
“Not well.”
I laughed.
“What did she expect?”
He didn’t answer.
Then I remembered her Instagram message.
So I asked:
“Did you tell her you chose me?”
He hesitated.
“Sort of.”
There it was.
“What does sort of mean?”
“I told her I needed to focus on my marriage.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“Lisa.”
“No. Did you tell her you wanted to stay married to me?”
“Yes.”
“Exactly like that?”
He got frustrated.
“Why does the wording matter?”
Because I have been married to this man for 28 years and I know when he’s avoiding a direct answer.
“What did you say?”
Finally he admitted:
“I told her I couldn’t lose my family.”
That was it.
Not me.
His family.
I said:
“That’s different.”
He said:
“It’s not.”
It is.
I don’t know if I’m explaining that well.
Maybe I’m being unfair.
But there’s a difference between:
I want my wife.
and:
I don’t want my children to hate me and my entire life to implode.
Todd kept insisting he meant both.
Maybe he does.
At this point I don’t know.
Then I asked the question I’d been avoiding.
“Did your brother know?”
Todd immediately looked down.
So yes.
His brother Kevin knew.
For eighteen months.
Not vaguely.
Not “I think Todd might be seeing someone.”
Knew.
He’d met Brittany.
Multiple times.
They’d all had dinner together.
Kevin’s wife apparently did NOT know.
At least according to Todd.
I called her afterward.
Her name is Marcy.
We’ve known each other for 26 years.
She answered:
“Hey!”
Completely normal.
I said:
“Did you know Todd was having an affair?”
Silence.
Then:
“What?”
I believed her immediately.
You can hear genuine confusion.
I told her.
She started crying.
Then I told her Kevin knew.
She stopped crying.
“What?”
“Apparently he’s known for a year and a half.”
She said:
“No.”
Then:
“NO.”
Apparently Kevin had told her he was meeting Todd for dinner several times when Brittany was there.
Marcy was furious.
Not because she thinks Kevin cheated.
She doesn’t.
Because he’d helped Todd hide it.
She said something I keep thinking about:
“If Kevin could sit across from that woman at dinner and then come to our house and hug you at Christmas, what does that say about him?”
I didn’t know.
Still don’t.
Todd says Kevin repeatedly told him to end the affair.
Which…
Okay.
Great.
But he also met her.
Covered for him.
And apparently once let Todd tell me he was staying at Kevin’s house when he was actually with Brittany.
That was the one that really got me.
Because I remembered it.
Last summer.
Kevin had supposedly bought tickets to a baseball game.
Todd was going to stay overnight because they’d probably drink.
I told him:
“Have fun with your brother.”
I even texted Kevin:
Don’t let him get too drunk 😂
Kevin responded:
No promises.
Todd wasn’t with Kevin.
He was at a hotel with Brittany.
Kevin knew I’d texted him.
And he covered.
Marcy is barely speaking to him now.
I feel guilty about that.
Molly says I shouldn’t.
She’s probably right.
The other thing I did this weekend was start going through our finances.
I know some people will say I should let the attorney handle it.
She will.
I’m not moving money or doing anything stupid.
I’m just downloading statements and trying to understand what I’m looking at.
Todd and I have always combined finances.
There isn’t “his money” and “my money.”
We both work.
His income is higher.
Mine has been higher at different points.
Everything goes into the same life.
Mortgage.
Retirement.
Kids.
Vacations.
Whatever.
So when I started seeing how much he’d spent on Brittany…
I got angry in a completely different way.
Hotels.
Restaurants.
Concert tickets.
Airfare.
Jewelry.
There was a weekend at a resort that cost almost $3,000.
I remember that weekend because Todd told me the company was paying for everything.
Apparently the company was me.
Then I found Venmo.
I don’t use Venmo much.
Todd does.
I asked him for the login.
He said:
“Why?”
Which obviously meant I absolutely needed to see it.
There were payments to Brittany.
A lot.
Most had stupid captions.
“Tickets.”
“Dinner.”
“Hotel.”
“Your half.”
But then I found:
$2,500 — emergency
That was last November.
I asked Todd.
He said she had car trouble.
I said:
“What kind of car trouble costs $2,500?”
Apparently…
It wasn’t car trouble.
She was behind on rent.
He gave her $2,500.
Our money.
I asked if she paid it back.
No.
Then:
$1,800 — ❤️
He bought her a purse.
Then:
$4,000 — deposit
That one took a while.
He didn’t want to tell me.
Eventually he admitted…
It was for an apartment.
I thought he meant her apartment.
No.
An apartment they were going to get together.
That was the first time I genuinely thought I might throw up.
I asked:
“When?”
He said:
“Last year.”
They had applied for an apartment together.
Not in our town.
About forty minutes away.
Brittany wanted Todd to move out.
He apparently told her he was going to.
They paid a deposit.
Then Todd backed out.
They lost part of the money.
I asked:
“Why did you back out?”
He said:
“Because I couldn’t do it.”
I asked:
“Do what?”
“Leave.”
I said:
“You were going to leave me?”
He started crying.
“I thought I was.”
This is what I mean when I say I don’t recognize my own life.
I remember that month.
Last year.
Todd was quiet.
I asked if he was okay.
He said work was stressful.
We went to Costco.
We bought patio furniture.
We had Molly and her boyfriend over for dinner.
We booked a trip for our anniversary.
And somewhere inside all of that…
My husband had put a deposit on an apartment with another woman…
because he thought he was about to leave me.
I asked:
“When were you going to tell me?”
He said:
“I don’t know.”
I screamed at him then.
Actually screamed.
“YOU SIGNED A LEASE.”
He said:
“We never signed the final lease.”
Like that was somehow the important distinction.
I told him to leave.
He did.
Then Brittany contacted me again.
Different account.
I had blocked her.
She made another one.
Her message said:
Since you’re apparently going through finances, you should know Todd gave me money willingly. I didn’t steal anything from you.
I just stared at it.
How did she know I was going through finances?
Todd.
Obviously.
I called him.
“Why are you talking to Brittany?”
He said:
“I’m not.”
I read the message.
Silence.
Then:
“She called me.”
“You told me you’d ended it.”
“I did.”
“Then why are you discussing our finances with her?”
“She asked what was happening.”
I couldn’t believe it.
“What did you tell her?”
“Nothing.”
“She knows I’m looking at finances.”
“Lisa—”
I hung up.
Then I did something I probably shouldn’t have done.
I answered Brittany.
You’re right. You didn’t steal it. My husband gave marital money to the woman he was secretly sleeping with. My attorney can sort out the terminology.
She responded almost immediately.
You’re obsessed with blaming me because it’s easier than admitting your husband didn’t want to be home.
That hurt.
I’m embarrassed to admit that.
I know she wanted it to.
But it did.
Because that’s the fear, right?
That everybody knew your husband hated coming home except you.
I didn’t answer.
Then she sent:
He told me you two hadn’t been happy in years.
I still didn’t answer.
Then:
He was planning to leave you before you even knew my name.
That one…
I answered.
Was that before or after he backed out of the apartment with you and came home to me?
She didn’t respond for almost an hour.
Then:
He backed out because of his kids.
I showed Todd.
I shouldn’t have.
But I wanted to know.
“Is that true?”
He looked exhausted.
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because I didn’t want to leave you.”
I said:
“Did you tell her that?”
Silence.
Of course not.
He’d told Brittany it was the children.
Because apparently…
Even when he chose to stay…
He couldn’t let his girlfriend think he chose his wife.
That realization hurt more than the apartment.
He had been managing both women’s emotions.
Telling me nothing.
Telling her whatever kept her waiting.
Then going back and forth…
depending on which life he was standing in.
I blocked Brittany again.
She found my daughter next.
That’s where she made a mistake.
She messaged Molly:
I know you hate me, but your dad is not the person your mom is making him out to be. Their marriage was over long before I came along. I hope eventually you hear his side.
Molly showed me.
Then replied before I could tell her not to:
His side was on TV.
And blocked her.
I was proud of that one.
Todd was furious when he found out Brittany contacted Molly.
For the first time…
I heard him genuinely angry at her.
He called her.
I know because he told me.
He said he told her never to contact our children again.
She apparently told him:
“Then stop letting Lisa make me the villain.”
I asked:
“What did you say?”
He said:
“I told her you weren’t making her anything.”
That surprised me.
Then he said:
“I told her she knew I was married.”
Good.
It didn’t fix anything.
But good.
Then Todd admitted something else.
Brittany didn’t just know about me.
She’d met me.
I didn’t remember her.
It happened two years ago.
Company holiday party.
Todd brought me.
Brittany was there.
Apparently…
He introduced us.
I genuinely don’t remember.
There were probably 150 people.
But she remembered me.
Todd said she was furious afterward.
Not because he’d introduced us.
Because seeing us together made her realize…
We didn’t look separated.
She apparently asked him why I touched him so much.
That sentence made me feel insane.
“What does that mean?”
Todd looked embarrassed.
“She said you kept touching my arm.”
I laughed.
“I’M YOUR WIFE.”
“I know.”
“Was I supposed to curtsy?”
He actually smiled for half a second.
Then immediately stopped.
Smart.
Todd said Brittany spent weeks after that party pushing him to leave.
She told him…
If he loved her…
He would.
He told her he needed time.
Then she asked him to get the apartment.
So yes.
She knew.
Not theoretically.
Not because Todd vaguely mentioned an unhappy wife somewhere.
She stood in a room with me.
Shook my hand.
Watched me kiss my husband.
And continued sleeping with him afterward.
I’m not saying that because I want to absolve Todd.
I don’t.
He’s worse.
He brought his mistress into a room with his wife.
I can’t even wrap my head around that.
But I’m done pretending Brittany was just some passive participant who happened to fall in love with the wrong man.
She knew what she was doing.
So did he.
I was the only person in this triangle…
who didn’t know there was a triangle.
The financial stuff got worse after that.
My attorney found a credit card I didn’t know existed.
Todd had opened it four years ago.
A year before the affair.
At first that made me wonder if there had been someone before Brittany.
He swears no.
I don’t know whether I believe him.
The card had around $34,000 in affair-related charges over three years.
Some were paid off from our joint checking.
I just never noticed because Todd handles most bills.
Then there was a storage unit.
Yes.
A fucking storage unit.
I wish I were kidding.
I saw a monthly charge.
Asked what it was.
Todd said:
“It’s complicated.”
Apparently…
Brittany had been slowly buying things for the life she thought they were going to have together.
Dishes.
Towels.
A coffee maker.
Some furniture.
Christmas decorations.
They stored everything there.
I went completely numb hearing that.
I asked:
“Did you buy things too?”
Yes.
“Like what?”
A television.
Bar stools.
Some kitchen stuff.
“Did you ever go there together?”
Yes.
“To the storage unit?”
Yes.
Apparently they’d sometimes stop there…
look at the things…
and talk about where they’d put them.
I don’t know why that hurt more than sex.
Maybe because sex can be impulsive.
A storage unit full of throw pillows isn’t impulsive.
That’s planning.
That’s imagining mornings.
That’s choosing plates.
That’s building a home in boxes…
while coming back to the home you already have.
I asked:
“What color were the towels?”
Todd looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
“Why does that matter?”
“I want to know.”
“Blue.”
I started crying.
He started crying.
We sat there…
crying over blue towels.
This is what affairs actually do to people.
It’s not glamorous.
It’s not dramatic music and lipstick on collars.
It’s standing in your kitchen…
asking the man you’ve loved for almost thirty years…
what color towels he bought for the bathroom he imagined sharing with someone else.
Todd said:
“I never used them.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“The towels.”
“They’re still in the storage unit.”
I laughed through my tears.
“Congratulations.”
He covered his face.
Then said:
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
And I said:
“Neither do I.”
That’s the truth.
There isn’t a correct answer.
There isn’t a sentence Todd can say…
that makes any of this fit inside my understanding of him.
Yesterday…
Todd asked me if I wanted to go see the storage unit.
I said no.
Then last night…
I changed my mind.
I don’t know why.
Maybe I needed to see it.
So this morning…
we went.
I made Molly come.
Todd thought that was unnecessary.
I didn’t care.
The unit was about twenty minutes away.
Todd punched in the code.
Opened the door.
And there it was.
Their almost-life.
Boxes.
A television.
Two bar stools.
A little side table.
KitchenAid mixer.
Vacuum.
Lamps.
Christmas tree still in the box.
I stood there…
staring.
Then I saw something on top of one box.
A framed photograph.
Todd and Brittany.
Beach.
His arm around her.
Her kissing his cheek.
I picked it up.
Todd said:
“Lisa.”
I turned it over.
On the back…
in Brittany’s handwriting:
Soon ❤️
I don’t know why…
but I handed it to Todd.
He stared at it.
Then started crying.
Molly said:
“Jesus Christ, Dad.”
Todd sat down on one of the boxes.
I walked farther inside.
There was a box labeled:
MASTER BEDROOM
That almost took me out.
Then another:
KITCHEN
And:
CHRISTMAS
I opened that one.
Ornaments.
Stockings.
Two stockings.
One said T.
One said B.
I stared at them.
Todd whispered:
“I didn’t buy those.”
I turned around.
“Do you think that helps?”
“No.”
Molly came over and took the box from me.
“Mom, let’s go.”
I nodded.
Then I noticed one more thing.
A smaller box.
Written on the side:
ITALY
I looked at Todd.
He immediately looked away.
“What is that?”
Nothing.
“Todd.”
“Brittany made it.”
I opened it.
Travel books.
Printed itineraries.
Hotel information.
Pictures.
Venice.
Rome.
Florence.
A folder.
I opened it.
Inside…
were two printed flight confirmations.
For October.
This October.
My stomach dropped.
They had booked Italy.
The honeymoon joke on television…
wasn’t hypothetical.
They already had tickets.
I looked at Todd.
“When were you going to tell me?”
He started crying.
And I knew…
before he answered…
that whatever came next…
was going to be worse than the towels.
EPILOGUE
It’s been a little over three years since I posted this.
I forgot about this account for a long time, and then last week Molly sent me a screenshot because apparently someone reposted my original story somewhere.
She wrote:
Mom you’re Reddit famous again lol
Which is not a sentence I ever expected my daughter to send me in my sixties.
I went back and read everything.
I shouldn’t have.
There are parts I genuinely don’t remember writing.
I remember the events, obviously, but I don’t remember being that raw.
The blue towels.
The storage unit.
The stockings.
God.
For anyone wondering what was in the Italy folder, because that’s where I stopped updating:
Todd was planning to leave me.
There isn’t really a softer way to say it.
The flights were for October 8th.
He and Brittany had booked twelve days.
Rome, Florence, Venice.
Todd told me they weren’t technically calling it a honeymoon.
Brittany was.
I found that out later.
Her printed itinerary literally said:
ITALY — OUR NEW BEGINNING
Which is so embarrassing that even now I get secondhand embarrassment thinking about it.
Their plan, apparently, was for Todd to tell me he wanted a divorce sometime that summer.
Move into the apartment with Brittany.
Go to Italy in October.
He kept putting off the first part.
Everything else kept moving forward.
That’s basically the entire affair in one sentence.
Todd kept building a future he wasn’t willing to actually enter.
I asked him what would have happened if the morning show hadn’t picked them.
He said:
“I don’t know.”
I believe him.
I used to think there had to be a master plan.
There wasn’t.
That’s one of the stranger things I’ve learned.
Sometimes people don’t blow up their lives because they’ve chosen some great new future.
Sometimes they’re just cowards who keep postponing consequences until consequences choose a date for them.
Ours happened to choose Tuesday morning television.
I filed for divorce.
Todd fought it emotionally, not legally.
By that I mean he didn’t try to screw me financially or hide assets once attorneys were involved.
But every couple of weeks he’d decide we were making a terrible mistake.
We can fix this.
Twenty-eight years has to count for something.
I’ll do anything.
I ended it with her.
That last one was complicated.
Because Todd and Brittany did end things.
Then they got back together.
Then they ended things again.
Then got back together again.
I know this because Brittany apparently decided that if she was miserable, I should receive regular updates about it.
She made three different Instagram accounts after I blocked her.
Then she found my Facebook.
Then she emailed me.
I stopped responding completely.
One email said:
I hope you’re happy. He won’t commit to me now because you’ve made him feel guilty about leaving his family.
That was six months after I’d filed for divorce.
I was literally divorcing him.
I don’t know how much more permission I could’ve given the man to leave.
Another said:
You got what you wanted. He’s miserable.
I didn’t answer that one either.
What I wanted was a husband who wasn’t cheating on me.
That option was no longer available.
Everything after that was just damage control.
The ugliest interaction happened about nine months after I found out.
Brittany showed up at my house.
I wish I were kidding.
It was a Saturday afternoon.
I opened the door because I was expecting an Amazon package.
There she was.
I’d technically seen her before at the company party, but I hadn’t remembered her.
Obviously I recognized her now.
She said:
“Can we talk?”
I said:
“No.”
She put her hand against the door when I tried to close it.
Not violently.
Just enough to stop it.
She said:
“I need you to hear something.”
I said:
“Take your hand off my door.”
She did.
Then she said:
“Todd is still in love with you.”
I remember just staring at her.
Of all the things I expected…
Not that.
She started crying.
And for maybe half a second, I felt sorry for her.
Then she said:
“You’ve made it impossible for us to move forward.”
There went the sympathy.
I said:
“I filed for divorce nine months ago.”
She said:
“But you still talk to him.”
“We have children.”
“Adult children.”
I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation.
Then she said:
“He still goes running every time you need something.”
I actually laughed.
“What have I needed?”
She mentioned our water heater.
Todd had come over when it broke.
I hadn’t called him.
Molly had.
He knew the model and had installed the old one.
Apparently this was evidence I was manipulating him.
She also mentioned my mother’s birthday dinner.
Todd had attended.
My mother died before the affair came out.
Every year afterward, my kids and I went to her favorite restaurant on her birthday.
Todd had known my mother for almost thirty years.
Molly invited him.
Brittany apparently hated that.
She said:
“You need to let him go.”
That sentence…
coming from her…
almost impressed me.
I said:
“Brittany, you were sleeping with my husband.”
“I divorced him.”
“You got him.”
“If you’re unhappy with what you got, return him.”
She called me a bitch.
I said:
“Okay.”
Then I closed the door.
She stood outside for another minute.
Then left.
That was the last time I saw her in person.
She and Todd lasted about four months after our divorce became final.
So from discovery to their final breakup…
roughly two years.
They did go to Italy.
That surprised me.
Not on the original trip.
Those flights were canceled during the fallout.
But after our divorce…
Todd and Brittany booked another trip.
Same cities.
I found out from Molly.
She was furious.
I wasn’t.
Or at least…
not in the way I expected.
I remember thinking:
Good.
Go.
Maybe if they finally got everything they’d been claiming they wanted…
they’d be happy.
They weren’t.
Apparently they fought almost the entire trip.
I only know this because Todd eventually told Evan, and Evan told Molly, and Molly told me even though I repeatedly said:
“I do not need updates.”
Families are terrible at respecting that sentence.
The biggest fight was apparently about a picture.
Brittany wanted Todd to post a picture of them in Venice.
He wouldn’t.
She accused him of still protecting me.
Todd said he was protecting the kids.
Same argument.
Different country.
They broke up about six weeks after they got home.
Then got back together briefly.
Then she found out Todd had been having coffee with me.
Before anyone gets excited:
No.
We were not getting back together.
Todd and I had started meeting occasionally because communicating exclusively through our children was unhealthy.
Coffee.
Public place.
Forty-five minutes.
Usually about family stuff.
One time…
we talked about our marriage.
Todd apologized differently than he had before.
No crying.
No asking me to take him back.
He said:
“I think I spent years believing that because I loved you, what I was doing couldn’t really mean I didn’t respect you.”
I didn’t say anything.
He continued:
“Now I think that’s worse.”
I asked why.
He said:
“Because I knew I loved you and did it anyway.”
That was probably the closest I ever got to feeling understood by him.
I told him that.
Apparently he mentioned the conversation to Brittany.
She lost her mind.
They ended things permanently not long afterward.
I don’t know where Brittany is now.
I know she’s alive.
I know she got married because someone sent Molly a screenshot.
Not me.
People need to stop sending my children screenshots.
The man is not Todd.
That’s everything I know.
I hope she’s grown up.
I don’t mean that sarcastically.
I spent a long time hating her.
And I still think what she did was awful.
I don’t subscribe to the idea that I have to forgive her because she wasn’t married to me.
She knowingly participated in something that hurt another person.
She mocked me.
She came to my house and blamed me because my ex-husband wasn’t making her happy.
I don’t need to turn her into a misunderstood woman who just loved too much.
But I also don’t want to carry her around anymore.
She’s somebody else’s problem now.
Kevin and Marcy nearly divorced.
That was another casualty I didn’t expect.
Marcy couldn’t get over how easily Kevin lied to me.
She kept asking:
“If Todd asked you to cover for something like that, what would you do?”
Kevin said he’d never cheat.
Marcy said that wasn’t the question.
I understood her completely.
They went to counseling.
They’re still together.
Kevin apologized to me about a year after everything happened.
A real apology.
No excuses.
He said:
“I thought I was staying out of Todd’s marriage.”
I told him:
“You weren’t staying out of it when you lied to me.”
He said:
“I know.”
Then he cried.
I forgave him eventually.
Not because what he did was okay.
Because I didn’t want every family event for the rest of my life to feel like a hostage negotiation.
Our kids eventually repaired things with Todd too.
Molly took the longest.
She barely spoke to him for about a year.
Evan was different.
Angry…
but more willing to separate “Dad” from “husband.”
I struggled with that at first.
I wanted them angry.
I’m not proud of that.
I never told them to hate him.
But when Molly started softening toward Todd…
there was this ugly little part of me that felt betrayed.
Like:
How can you laugh with him after what he did to me?
Therapy helped.
A lot.
Todd was a horrible husband to me for those three years.
That didn’t erase twenty-something years of being their dad.
They were allowed to love him.
And I was allowed to never be his wife again.
Both could exist.
Todd is single now.
As far as I know.
He dates.
I date too.
That’s still weird to say.
I didn’t date for almost two years.
Then a friend convinced me to have dinner with a man named Greg.
I hated Greg.
Nothing wrong with him.
He talked about cryptocurrency for forty minutes.
I went home and told Molly:
“I’d rather take your father back.”
She said:
“Jesus Christ, Mom. We’ll find someone else.”
We did.
His name is Patrick.
We’ve been together about ten months.
He’s divorced.
I verified.
That sounds like a joke.
It isn’t.
I looked him up.
Then I told him I looked him up.
He thought it was hilarious.
He knows about Todd.
Not every detail.
Patrick does not know about the blue towels.
Some things belong between me and Reddit.
But he knows enough.
We’re taking it slowly.
I like slowly.
I’m not trying to rebuild the exact life I lost.
That’s probably the biggest difference between me now and me three years ago.
At first…
I wanted my old life back so badly.
Not Todd exactly.
The feeling.
Knowing where I’d be at Christmas.
Knowing who I’d retire with.
Knowing who would be beside me if I got sick.
Knowing who I’d drink coffee with when I was seventy-five.
The affair didn’t just take my husband.
It took my assumptions.
That was harder to grieve.
Now…
I don’t need the next twenty years completely mapped out.
I have my house.
My kids.
Friends.
Patrick.
A ridiculous little terrier I adopted last year named Winston, who hates every man except Patrick for reasons I choose to interpret as excellent judgment.
And yes…
I kept some of the stuff from the storage unit.
This is where the story gets stupid.
During the divorce, the attorneys had to deal with everything Todd and Brittany bought using marital money.
Most of it got sold.
Some went to Todd.
Some Brittany claimed.
There was a box of kitchen stuff nobody wanted.
Todd asked if I wanted anything before he donated it.
I said no.
Then I saw the KitchenAid mixer.
Brand new.
Still in the box.
Expensive.
I said:
“Actually, give me that.”
Todd stared at me.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“You hate baking.”
“I know.”
I took it anyway.
Molly almost died when she saw it on my counter.
She said:
“Is that THE mixer?”
I said:
“Yep.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“Apparently become a baker.”
I did not become a baker.
But I use it.
Mostly mashed potatoes.
Sometimes cookies.
Every Thanksgiving…
Molly points at it and says:
“Mom’s revenge mixer.”
Patrick asked once why she calls it that.
I said:
“Long story.”
Maybe someday I’ll tell him.
The blue towels were donated.
I didn’t want those.
The Christmas stockings…
I have no idea.
The Italy box disappeared somewhere during the divorce.
Good.
And the framed picture that said Soon ❤️?
Todd threw it away.
I know because he told me.
I told him I didn’t need to know that.
He said:
“I thought you’d want to.”
That’s another thing he’s had to learn.
I don’t need proof anymore.
I don’t check his stories.
I don’t need to know whether Brittany was lying about something or Todd was.
I don’t need timelines.
I don’t need receipts.
For a while…
knowing everything felt like control.
Eventually…
knowing everything just meant thinking about the affair more.
So I stopped.
There is one thing I kept, though.
The recording of the morning show.
Molly saved it.
For years I couldn’t watch it.
Then last month…
she and I were drinking wine at my house.
She said:
“Do you want to see something insane?”
She pulled it up.
I said:
“Absolutely not.”
Then watched anyway.
There they were.
Todd.
Brittany.
The gray quarter-zip.
Her hand through his arm.
The host asking how long they’d been together.
Almost three years.
I expected to feel sick.
I didn’t.
Then Brittany said:
“Not to each other.”
And I actually laughed.
Not because it was funny then.
Because now…
knowing how everything turned out…
the audacity was almost unbelievable.
Then we got to:
He has some paperwork to take care of first.
Molly looked at me.
I looked at her.
Then I said:
“Paperwork got taken care of.”
She nearly spit out her wine.
Finally…
Brittany looked at Todd and said:
Tick-tock.
That used to haunt me.
For months…
I’d hear it in my head.
Tick-tock.
Like I was some old wife whose time had expired.
Like Brittany was younger…
more exciting…
the future…
and I was something Todd needed to clear away before his real life could begin.
Watching it now…
I felt completely different.
Because she was right about one thing.
Time was running out.
Just not mine.
Their secret was running out.
Todd’s ability to live two lives was running out.
Brittany’s patience was running out.
The version of my marriage that existed only because I didn’t know the truth…
was running out.
I just didn’t know the clock was ticking too.
Three years later…
I’m glad it did.
I would never say I’m glad Todd cheated.
I’m not.
I would never say everything happens for a reason.
Sometimes people just do shitty things…
and then everybody else has to figure out how to live afterward.
But I am glad I found out.
I’m glad that host happened to walk into that audience.
I’m glad he happened to point at Todd and Brittany.
I’m glad I happened to be working from home.
I’m glad I looked up.
Because if I hadn’t…
I don’t know how much longer Todd would’ve kept going.
Another month?
A year?
Five?
Maybe he eventually would’ve left.
Maybe he would’ve backed out again.
Maybe those blue towels would’ve sat in storage until they dry-rotted.
I’ll never know.
And finally…
I don’t need to.
Last Tuesday morning…
I was working from home again.
TV on in the background.
Patrick was in my kitchen making coffee.
Winston was barking at a delivery truck.
Completely ordinary morning.
A morning show came on.
Not the same one.
For a second…
I thought about changing the channel.
Then I didn’t.
I kept working.
Patrick brought me coffee.
Kissed the top of my head.
The show played in the background.
And I realized…
I hadn’t thought about Todd once.
Not until I noticed that I hadn’t.
Three years ago…
a morning show ended my marriage.
Now…
it was just noise again.
I think that’s probably as close to an ending as I’m going to get.
