The Big Fuckup

Let's see, where to begin.

I have mentally written, rewritten, deleted, and vowed never to write many times over the last few weeks. Yet here I am actually starting a draft. Maybe I just need to write it out. Tell my story, get it off my shoulders. Maybe somewhere deep down I feel the need to confess. Maybe there is a part of me that thinks the blog readers wouldn't understand a lot of situational issues if I didn't share this story. I don't really know. 

Maybe it will just be a draft forever.  

I will start with one forewarning; there will be very few details. The situation is extremely personal and for several reasons at least for now I don't want to tell the whole story step by step. So you'll just have to wonder. 

So here goes...

I fucked The Friend.

Yup. He had a window of opportunity, I had a horny husband encouraging his wife to be naughty. So, after a long day I grew the proverbial balls and went to his house. 

So here are your details: We did not use a condom. He was beyond drunk and did not cum. He got a little rough with bites on my chest. I was there almost 4 hours. And most importantly the fuckup(s) are entirely my fault. (Not looking for pity, just trying to be honest)

The next day the tension between The Hubs and I was palpable. I was nauseous and I feared what was coming. He told me that afternoon that for several reasons he was not ok with some of the details of the encounter and he didn't think it could be repaired. 

Our marriage was in serious danger of being over.

Insert crying non-stop for several hours. Silently in front of my family, loud weeping when I was alone. 

See, a funny thing happens when you think your marriage is over. Much like the stereotypical near-death experience we hear about in movies, flashes of our married life passed before my eyes. All day I saw images and memories played out again and again. The way he left his pallbearer duties and came from across the church at my grandmother's funeral to be by my side as I lost it. The way he cried when I told him we were pregnant for the first time. And the way he held my hand when we found out we'd never hold that baby in our arms. The look on his face when our son was born, and how sweetly he snuggled him every night as soon as he came home from work. And on and on and on. Every memory flooded my heart with so much pain, knowing how much damaged I had caused. 

All of this because I didn't listen to my gut. Sometimes it doesn't matter what you hear with your ears you know something different in your heart. And I should have listened to that little voice telling me it was a bad idea instead of the slut thinking about being naughty. There are some things that can't be undone. Some pains that can't be un-felt. And I should have known better. 

Later that night The Hubs and I sat down to really talk. And slowly but surely we started to pick up the pieces. Are we whole? No, not yet, I still have a lot of forgiveness to earn. Like I said there are some things that can't be undone. But everyday we are working to put it all back together. 

What will become of my friendship with The Friend? Hopefully nothing. I hope that it will remain the same comfortable, flirtatious, fun friendship that it has always been. I'm sure we'll never fuck again but he is fun to flirt with and I'd like to hope that our friendship hasn't been ruined too. Of course, The Friend doesn't remember most of it. So, basically I almost ruined my entire life and he was too drunk to even remember it. 

Awesome. 

So, that's the story. Please don't be offended if I haven't or don't respond to inquiries. It's nothing personal, just how I'm gonna roll with this one. 

The Wife

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