[Continued from "Correctional Officer, Part 5."]

I tried to be a “better” wife.  Only the damage was done.  I figured everyone was miserable in their marriage and I was just one of them.  Even my attempt at some naughty, dirty, mind-blowing sex had failed.

The Ex continued to pester me about having “too much” contact with Correctional Officer.  I deleted emails I had sent to and received from Correctional Officer.  I began to use a different email account so the Ex would think CO and I were no longer in contact.

During a fight with the Ex I challenged him to check all of my email accounts.  You know, like they do in the movies.  The scene where the person being accused of cheating says to the suspicious spouse, “If you don’t believe me, go ahead and check” and then the suspicious spouse thinks better of his loved one and doesn’t “check.”  Well, the Ex called my bluff.  He checked.

The Ex knew my email passwords, and he looked at all my accounts.  And he saw that I was still in contact with CO.  I tried to change his password so he couldn’t even check his own email as a way to prevent him from getting to my emails.  I remember being in a panic in my office at work.  I remember the view across Broadway Street in Oakland when I talked on the phone with someone at AT&T/Yahoo in desperation.

One day while walking home from BART after work I got a call.  It was from CO’s area code so I thought it was him calling me from a phone other than his work phone (the number of which was always blocked).  It was a woman.  She introduced herself as CO’s wife.  Uh, hello.  I got dizzy.  I sat down on the sidewalk.  She asked me if it was true that her husband and I had sex.  I was tired of lying, and I figured she had it on good authority that the sex had occurred, so I admitted it.

She then screamed, “Fucking whore!  Fucking whore!”  It took me a little bit to realize I didn’t have to listen to her and I hung up.

Immediately I tried calling CO.  He didn’t answer.  I called his work.  I was told he had just left.  Fuck.  I was going to try to warn him that when he got home he was in store for some serious shit, but I couldn’t.

The next day I called him at work.  He said he couldn’t talk to me and he hung up.  I didn’t push contact with him.  I figured it was best that he work on his marriage without me gumming up the works.  No need to end two marriages.

Because mine was most definitely over.  I had been miserable for years.  Not completely miserable, but I had been telling the Ex that I couldn’t take various behaviors for a long time.  I had turned into a nag.  I hated having to ask the Ex to do things around the house that he should have done simply because we were two people living together.  I felt disrespected and taken for granted and had for a long time.

I felt like I kept giving in to whatever he wanted and got nothing in return.  When he wanted a huge television that we couldn’t really afford, we bought it on the condition that I would no longer have to ask him to unload the dishwasher, his one major kitchen chore.  Of course that didn’t last.  He still has that fucking 50″ tv though.

I swear.  True story.

[To be continued ….]

  •  
  •  
  •  
  •  
  •  
  •