I Cheated On My Husband A Week Before We Got Married
A lot of shit running through my mind.
I need an outlet.
Medium is my outlet.
I am also hyper-aware of how fragile both my husband and I are right now.
I don’t want to do any more damage than I already have.
I don’t think I could. I might as well write. I might as well make myself a fresh cup of coffee, hang my head and hands over the keyboard and just let it go.
Let it be what it’s going to be.
Fourteen years ago, on the night of my bachelorette party, I kissed the stripper and started to perform oral sex on him. Then, I stopped. I knew it was a huge mistake as soon as it happened. The biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life.
I wish I never let that happen.
It did, and I’m sorry.
That night was sobering as fuck.
Disgusted (with myself), I stumbled and sobbed my way down the hall, out to the balcony where I lit a cigarette and bawled on my cousin’s shoulder.
So here I am, two weeks away from my fourteenth wedding anniversary and all I can think about is how my marriage is falling apart.
Is this the end, or the beginning?
The catalyst to all this was my husband’s honesty. It’s fucked up how it all unraveled. I’m fucked up for not telling him the truth before we got married. I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to leave the kids and me fourteen years later.
I wish I never had a stripper at my bachelorette party.
I was angry. I was angry that my husband’s friends were taking him out to a strip club and I hadn’t planned anything that fun for myself. I wasn’t emotionally mature enough to let him have his fun with his friends and be content with a nice stripper-less girls night out.
I felt left out.
Still. No excuse. Maybe I wasn’t emotionally mature enough to get married in the…