Luckily, my 3 children were in a city a few hours away safe from the impending hurricane. Before I returned home, I called Music Man and told him what I had found. For the first time in our marriage, he didn’t deny. He just said he was sorry. I returned home, spit in his face, found a dark corner in our closet and I just fell into a ball and wept. Primal, gut wrenching sobs. I wouldn’t let him near me. Outside the skies were darkening. On the television the weather people were issuing warnings, alerts were going off on our phones. This hurricane would be massive and I was stuck home with this son of a bitch that I felt so much hate for.
I took a Xanax and slept fitfully in the guest room upstairs. I woke up to the sound of hard rain and wind so fierce the windows were shaking. My husband must have been waiting to hear me stir, as he immediately brought me coffee. In tears, he knelt by my bedside and kept apologizing over and over. Then, more alarms on our cell phones and this time a tornado warning. I had to change direction and move into survival mode as this weather threat was real and scary. We had stocked up one water bottles, brought in our bike helmets and prepared our closet under the steps as our safety zone. We watched buckets of rain fall hard and watched our streets begin to flood. There were helicopters, sirens, and soon we watched cars driving down the street (yes people were out driving), get swooped up by the high water and washed into the flooded park. It was surreal and scary. It felt like the world was ending. I was almost expecting Dwane “The Rock” Johnson to drop down from a helicopter in the sky.
While stuck home, music man answered every question I had about his liaisons. Unfortunately this was before therapy and therapeutic disclosure and now I have images I have to work to get out of my head. He had no filter and I took it all in, asking the same questions over and over and experiencing trauma with each story.
That night, our phone alarms went off once again, this time saying mandatory evacuation. We had our lifejackets, we had our kayaks, it wasn’t a tidal wave, so we chose to bunker down and stay home. It was a good choice, because once you left the neighborhood, you weren’t allowed back in. I don’t remember if it was two days or three days, but it was insanity. Army trucks driving down our streets filled with crying families and their luggage. Somehow by the grace of god, our block was spared from the flooding that surrounded us. I do believed that God only gives you what you can handle and my god spared me from any more trauma that day. A command station was literally in front of our house with Boy Scouts dropping kayaks in at the corner to help rescue pets from flooded homes. But no amount of salvation or elevation would allow my husband to escape my wrath. I screamed, I hit him, I threw things at him, all the while, he kept spilling all the details of his secret life. He answered every single question I threw out with sickening detail.
Rewind to our early years of marriage. He was barely 30 and working hard in a sales job that required lots of entertaining. Sadly, it was during a time when the “Good Ol Boy’s” network was strong and it was the norm to do business with creepy male clients over steaks at a topless bar. Honestly, he told me about these meetings and I really didn’t think much of it! I was so naive and trusting. Just like the porn. I didn’t think of it as anything but normal male behavior. ugh!
What he didn’t share with me at that time were details about lap dances and fingering dancers. Music Man swears that is as far as it went at topless bars, but honestly who knows? A couple of years after our first child was born, music man landed a job involving travel. Damn, when I think about how proud I was of him, I feel queasy.
The first time he used an escort, he was somewhere on the east coast entertaining a client. This client was bragging about the escort industry in that area and proceeded to engage my husband with exciting tales of adventures with escorts. My husband was surrounded by cheating men. The main boss at his company was known for using escorts. It was a sick club that music man was anxious to join.
Back at his hotel after dinner with his client, my husband looked around and it became apparent to him that escorts were in and out of the lobby. He went back to the room and nervously made his first call. He described her to me. Blond, great body, prob mid 20’s. He paid for only an hour as that is all he could get away with financially. He said it was amazing, yes he fucken told me that! Who the fuck says that to their wife??? Frickin bi polar idiots with no filter that’s who! From that moment he was hooked and would use escorts when ever he traveled alone. He would always wait until the final night of his business trip in case he was thrown in jail. WTF??? How is that for pre meditation? And now I’m supposed to believe it was an impulse disorder as part of bipolar? This whole mental illness thing has been really hard for me to buy into. If it was an impulse disorder wouldn’t he have trouble controlling where and when he acted out? He told me no other time was as good as the first! WTF????? Jesus his lack of filter still blows my mind. He told me about the women who he could tell didn’t want to be there. He told me about a night where he couldn’t perform with the first one, so he called a second one. He was always highly intoxicated.
That was the dance, last night in town, start drinking heavy, then the guilt and fear goes away and the call is made. He told me about a time where he and one of his best friends had two sent to their hotel room! It was one of his best friends. Why was I so dumb? This guy was trashy but of course, successful, educated and white, so it was easy to overlook his alcoholism and vulgar view on women. Damn! Our culture is so fucked up!
For five years Music Man wasn’t afraid of getting arrested, wasn’t afraid of losing his family, his job. He just rolled into town, pulled up the escort advertisements and put in his order. He says he stopped because he was promoted and now had employees under him. He felt as if he was pushing his luck. He didn’t stop because he felt bad morally, because he loved me, and it hurt to think of hurting me, because he was repenting. He was just a selfish fuck who had worn out the fun factor. I will never be that same naive woman again. I am so much more hardened now. I understand the term “Rode hard and hung up wet” that is me.