After we started planning our wedding, I got wind of some legal issues. He told me that they were civil and from his old company almost ten years prior. I looked over some of the paperwork, and he said he had to go back to court for it. He went to a court date for it in California, came home, and told me that there would be some back and forth, but that it would be fine. From what I could tell it was for some sort of mortgage deal he did a few years back and actually was civil. Yet it seemed there was more brewing. I could feel it in my bones.
Even though I wasn’t 100 percent sure about going through with the wedding, it seemed like the logical next step. I was afraid of commitment, but I also knew that he was a good man who supported me and lifted me up. He wasn’t perfect, but my family loved him, my friends loved him, and he was fun. We had been through a lot together, and it did seem like it was time for us to make a serious commitment or to split ways. I couldn’t picture my life without him at this point, and I knew a family was very important to him. I didn’t want to start a family without being married and just felt like there was no rush. If we were engaged anyway, we may as well enjoy each other and a marriage first.
Our wedding day was pretty perfect, really. People always tell you to prepare for things going wrong, but I had a great wedding planner, everything was set up in advance, and I went in ready to enjoy the moment. The weather was sunny, which was lucky as we got married at a beachfront resort, and the ceremony was quick but meaningful. I had never seen H look at me the way he did when I was walking down the aisle. It was truly a beautiful moment, the kind people in movies say they will never forget.The reception was amazing, and we had a DJ play hip hop, pop, and lively stuff that everyone could dance to. We paid for an open bar, as I was not about to torture people through a wedding with one drink token and a sea of awkwardness. I remember at one point the bartender ran out of alcohol and told me, “We were not prepared for you guys.”
It seemed we were starting our own little fairytale.
Chapter 5:
How to Help Someone Destroy
Your Self-Worth
We started off in complete marital bliss. But after a few months, H started acting strangely, in a way that I now understand was abusive. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until later that I recognized that he was extremely talented at brainwashing. He was, slowly getting inside of my head and destroying my self-worth. I hate being the victim, and I hate the word “abuse,” but I need to call it like it is. I had always been ferociously independent and had a very hard time allowing people to help me, so we struggled with this in the beginning. Over time, his manipulation changed me, and I became more and more dependent on him. There were small hints of it, here and there. I know, when most people talk about abuse and manipulation, you think, “How could they not realize it? What an idiot!” However, when you are in the situation, it is the small shifts over months and years that take their toll, until you wake up one day and you are operating on an entirely different set of parameters. And it’s not until you separate from this person that you realize the true destruction that it was causing you.
H had an ingenious way of building me up, making me feel like the most gorgeous person in the world, and then, over time, knocking me down. He started to seclude me from people in small, subtle ways, telling me that I should stay home more and more, and making me feel guilty for spending time with other people. Soon, I heavily relied on him for companionship, for advice, for decisions, for everything. He made it blatantly clear that he wanted to be a family and to make decisions together, in a way that made me feel threatened rather than respected. I am a smart woman, but it crept up on me over time. Slowly.
He also required grandiosity in all things, and if it didn’t meet his standards, then he would get angry. On one of our first vacations together, we were sitting in a Jacuzzi on a ship in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, looking out at this gorgeous scene. He wanted to smoke a cigar, because it looked better in the pictures, and when they wouldn’t allow it, he got pissed. Everything had to be a certain way, with special favors and VIP privileges, or it wasn’t good enough. This took a toll on our marriage from the beginning. I wanted to spend more time in the moment, savoring the small things, learning his scars and insignificant wrinkles. But he wanted me to be a Barbie doll to show off to his friends, the perfect wife who bought him presents and surprised him. This standard of living was difficult to keep up with.
He would regularly talk about how it was bad for men to go more than three days without having sex. (Being that he is in jail now, I find that to be hysterical, but that’s a sunshine in my pocket thought for another day.) But if he was hoping that would make me submissive in the bedroom, he selected the wrong female. I always thought to myself, “Okay, so if after three days you don’t have sex, you believe that you are truly unable to control yourself as a person? Then, you may as well go do whatever it is you would do after those three days now, and I don’t want to be with someone with that little self-control.” Even though I stood my ground here, it was clear that he made these comments to assert his dominance as a man.
He also underestimated my awareness when he was flirting with girls or doing shady financial things behind my back. I would get weird feelings or inklings that something was going on, and when I would ask him about it, he would make me feel like I was the most batshit crazy, insecure human being on the planet. He would swing from hurt, to kind in his response, to positively angry and offended, but, more often than not, his response was that I was crazy. Later, I found out that every single time I had that feeling, that inkling to snoop, that strange itch in the pit of my stomach, I was right. His deception doesn’t enrage me as much as the fact that he made me mistrust myself and my intuition in the end.
He constantly and without reason made life-altering decisions without me, and I was over and over again left to deal with the consequences. Every time things got really bad, he would shower me with ridiculous gifts—take me out to fun places, whisk me away on a whirlwind trip, pamper me—until I forgot what we were fighting about in the first place. On top of that, he had a way of answering questions by talking in circles. You would think this would be an obvious red flag, but he was kind and heartfelt at the same time. He had a gentle and generous soul, or it seemed; now I find it all too convenient. I believe there is good in everyone, yet if you use what you are given for the wrong reasons, it can do an exorbitant amount of damage.
One night, about a year after we had gotten married, I woke up to a quiet and lonely house (kind of similar to how my heart and soul felt at the time). And I went to bathroom, got down on my knees, and prayed that God and the Universe would take from me that which no longer served me. I repeated it over and over. I knew that change would come. I let it go. Little did I know how that prayer would be answered.
Shortly after our one-year wedding anniversary, everything that had been simmering suddenly boiled over. H had been acting so strange lately that my suspicions grew. One day, while he was “working,” I hacked into the live stream of his messages (he wasn’t very smart and didn’t realize that I knew all his passcodes and information, and could hack into his cell phone texts from his computer). Suddenly, popping up on the screen in real time, was my husband talking to another woman. I don’t mean like “hey how was your day,” but like “hey meet me at my place so we can bone,” and “I wish I wasn’t married,” and “let’s just have sex like we used to.” Apparently, it was a girlfriend or fling of his from the past. I found another phone number I didn’t recognize, that he had messaged about a hotel he was staying at a few weeks before. It showed up as a prostitute from San Diego. A quick Internet search revealed a Tinder online dating profile with his name and picture.
I was clearly married to a person that I didn’t even know, on a cellular level, on an emotional level. And health-wise, after sleeping with all of those women? How disgusting. How dare he. I can’t even describe to you the feeling that went through my body at that moment. After all the lying, the gamb
ling, the legal issues, the messes he got into, the drama that he caused me. I had done nothing but support this man, believe in him, and uplift him. I stood by his side when the universe itself was conspiring to take him down, and how does he repay me? He knew from our very first date that my one and only serious line in the sand was infidelity of any kind. If you wouldn’t do it in front of my face, you probably shouldn’t be doing it. That is the respect that I think we deserve in relationships.
My body had an energy running through it that I had never felt before. The tips of my fingers prickled as if there was no longer blood running through my veins, but lightning. I wanted to pass out into a deep sleep and run as fast as possible all at the same time. I almost puked. I had to reread the messages. Yes, H could be a complete fuck-up. He could be a flirt. He could be an irresponsible, selfish, no-good asshole. But at the end of the day, I truly believed that he was loyal to me and would not do anything to disrespect me. I learned in that moment that I was very, very wrong.
I walked out of the office room and flipped over our bar cart in a fit of rage, breaking our collection of nice, crystal barware: wedding gifts of Baccarat glasses and Tiffany’s wine stems. I didn’t give a fuck. As the glass shattered in front of our door, I called him and told him what a miserable piece of shit I thought that he was and why. I grabbed what I could, picked up my dog, walked right through the pile of overpriced glass, and went down to my car. As I pulled out of the parking garage, H was pulling in. I expected him to be apologetic, to show some form of panic or remorse. I heard nothing from him. A few minutes later as I was already on the freeway, headed home to Wyoming, he texted me: “I cut my foot on the glasses you broke, you fucking bitch.” I realized in that moment our love story was over.
I called a divorce attorney on the road. I had always promised myself that I wouldn’t allow this type of shit in my life. Cheaters are cheaters are cheaters. Most of them have self-esteem issues that they are trying desperately to resolve, one vagina at a time. I didn’t sign up for this type of situation, let alone the health consequences that could go along with them. I also took two very key items with me: H’s laptop (for up-to-date messages and streaming spy services) and the one thing I knew he would actually miss, his prized Rolex watch. I took it as a bargaining chip, so that if he messed with any of my stuff or didn’t allow me to come get it (a very real possibility given his need to feel in control), I had something I knew I could hold over his head to get my things back.
I drove straight through the night and arrived home in the wee hours of the morning. My dog got into my childhood bed with me. I slept briefly, woke up, and checked H’s messages. It was the day before his birthday, and I had planned and paid for an entire trip to Catalina Island for his special day. I called to cancel the helicopter and the oceanfront room, but they refused to refund me at first. Then, the service representative asked, “But ma’am, why are you canceling with such short notice?” I couldn’t believe I was saying the words. “I booked it for my husband’s birthday, but unfortunately I just found out he’s cheating on me, so I don’t really feel like going on vacation with him.” The manager refunded me right away. I was so thankful, but at the same time, I couldn’t believe this was my reality. I didn’t want the pity. I wanted my life back.
H finally started calling me and denying things at first, which really pissed me off. I had the messages in front of my face. Then, he finally said he was just saying stuff, that he was really sorry, and that he would do anything to make it right. I knew it was all bullshit, but I really didn’t know what to do at that point. I knew I could never trust H again, but I didn’t know where to go from here. I had helped build businesses for him. I had built my whole life around him. It didn’t seem easy for me just to up and walk away, even though I knew that was inevitable. I wanted to be back in California. What would happen to our apartment? Where would I go? What would I do for work? He had convinced me to sell out of my hair practice and had pushed me to work with him from the get-go, because it gave him more control.
I talked to my brother-in-law while I was home. His marriage had ended after infidelity, and I asked him for his advice. I will never forget what he said to me. “Unfortunately, it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better. If this is what you know about, there is always more, and it’s probably worse than you can imagine.” I don’t think I comprehended what that could mean at the time, but he was right.
That same day, I found out from spying on his messages that H had gotten two more girls’ numbers, sent them flirty stuff, and even bought bottle service at a club for some girls on my American Express card. I called and cut off all my cards. I stopped answering his calls. The fucking balls on this man. His deception and disrespect clearly knew no bounds. H was out with one of our neighbors from across the hall, and from that day on when I would run into him, it would literally take everything in me not to scratch his stupid face off. I knew it wasn’t his fault, but he knew we were married and he was totally fine with my husband flirting with chicks and trying to do God knows what, and then he wants to smile at me in the hall and ask me how my day is? My day fucking sucks because you just talked to me, thank you very much.
H finally flew out to Wyoming to talk to me about what had happened, and things got very confusing. He was extremely apologetic and wanted to work things out, yet he firmly believed that he could use the defense of “I never actually slept with anyone so it isn’t cheating.” I couldn’t even handle it. All of it was cheating. And if this was what I knew about, what I didn’t know about was way worse. No doubt in my mind, he slept with multiple people while we were together. Not that it matters now. I just feel sorry for him. But at the time it was such misery for me.
After much conversation and confusion for me, the decision was made. He would drive back with me to California, and we would go to counseling. We weren’t together, but we weren’t broken up either. I knew I would never trust him again and that things were ending quickly, yet I took my vows seriously. I wanted to feel that, at the end of the day, I had explored all options, even though the only one I really wanted to explore was murder. I was curious what his explanation would be, and I kept going back to the thought of how he used to be. How we used to be. How we got here.
Why would he do this to me? What had I done to cause this? How was I not enough? Did I not make enough money? Was it because I wasn’t slutty, posting naked photos of myself on social media? Was I not big/small/tall/short/tan/pale enough? How had this happened??? H was very (as he would call it) religious, and he constantly tried to force his religious views on me throughout our time together. He believed that you would be punished if you didn’t do x, y, and z. If you weren’t generous with your money all the time, his God would take it away from you. To him, his God “punishes.” Yet, here he was, Mr. Holier Than Thou, breaking a sacred covenant. That was the most impressive part. I had my own beliefs (and they didn’t include marrying someone just to screw other people).
On our drive home, I was so angry that I punched the steering wheel and broke my nail in half. For the first time in my life, I felt out of control of myself, my future, and my surroundings. Why was this happening to me? My mom had always told me, “If you don’t know what to do, don’t do anything,” meaning that time will show you the best thing to do, and not to force the inevitable. So, I tried not to. I was riddled with anxiety, pain, depression, self-consciousness, and heartbreak. We went to marriage counseling, but it didn’t go well. H couldn’t tell the truth. He talked in circles. He didn’t want to change. He offered no honest or helpful explanations. I thought these must be the worst and most awkward times of my life, but it was only the beginning.
It was weird and uncomfortable, not really being together but not officially saying “divorce” yet, either. Somewhere deep in my heart and soul, I knew I was done with this marriage. But I resisted and stayed in one place to avoid pain. I knew I could never forgive him for this. He suddenly was not the person I once knew. A short two w
eeks after all of this, I finally decided to go stay at my friend’s place in Hollywood for a night, to have some fun and get all of these impending decisions off of my mind. As luck would have it, a lot of these decisions would be made for me when the rug was pulled out from under me, and used to almost beat me to death. The next day, I received the call that my “husband” was never coming home.
Chapter 6:
Nobody Envies Your Life. In Fact, Your Family and Friends Think Your Life Is Way More Messed Up than You Do
May 22, 2015 (Day 2)
Bless my mother. I swear she was made with an extra special dose of awesome. As soon as I called and told her that my husband was in jail, she said, “Okay. I am booking a flight right now. Can you pick me up tomorrow at 1:50? Thank. Friggin. God.
There would be nothing worse than handling all of this alone. Friends have reached out, invited me out, and offered to come over, but when it’s been three hours since your life was destroyed, you kind of need a little time to process. And cry. And hyperventilate. And call a priest. And a psychic. And a stripper named Roxxy with two x’s.
My day began as awful as possible. My eyes opened to the sound of my phone ringing, and I peered out to see the warm golden sun coming through our white silky curtains. The world was as it should be. I stretched and rolled over in my cozy bed to cuddle with……. My pug. Oh wait. No. It wasn’t a nightmare.
Divorce, Drinking and Dating Page 5
