What Happened to Eden

We had to start telling people. I told my husband I didn’t want him to tell our kids we’d just fallen out of love, because I didn’t want them to think we could just fall out of love with them at some point, too. He did not consult me when deciding what to say, however, and told his kids he was in love with someone else.

Understandably, this created more confusion and more questions, all of which were saved for me and not for their father. Now, looking back, I think the kids decided not to trust their father with serious questions when they found out how he’d lied to all of us for so long. So they saved all their big questions for me.

Why did he lie? Don’t you hate lying? Does he not think you are beautiful anymore? Why doesn’t he love you? Do we still call him Dad? Is he just an uncle now? Is he going to marry the other lady? Doesn’t he know if he leaves you, he leaves us, too?

I had only known the truth for a handful of days at this point and couldn’t answer any of their questions. I had no idea what was would happen, why he’d done what he did, and could only reassure them that he was still their father. As much as someone who lies to skip family vacations and fuck a stranger in their mom’s bed is still a father.

We’d had a family trip planned for Thanksgiving, and I decided to take the kids on my own instead of cancelling. Surrounded in family, I could fully melt down if I needed to and someone would be there to keep an eye on my kids.

Even though the trip took place in probably the darkest time in my life, I have nothing but good feelings about it now. My family rallied around me and cared for my children. I had time and space to relax and think and do what I wanted without having to care what my husband thought of my choices. We were high in the mountains and it snowed nearly every day, which I loved (and my husband would have hated), so when the kids went to sleep I’d sit in the sauna and then rub snow all over my hot skin before going to bed. I wouldn’t have done that if my husband had been with us because I would have been making myself available should he decide to grace me with his presence, which of course, he wouldn’t have.

I went to bars with my sister and stayed out late. I talked to the honey-voiced man every day, among others. I played in the snow with my kids. I sat in the hot tub at midnight and let snowflakes land on my face. I tried desperately to remember what it was like to be comfortable being myself.

The day before Thanksgiving I matched with a man on a dating app. I had recently decided I had a thing for uniforms, and he had a photo of himself in full police gear. It was basically entrapment. He lived in the city I was moving to in a month. We talked constantly. Some of the other men I’d been communicating with were spending time with their families for the holiday, but this guy wasn’t, so he was chatty. I was in the process of dissociating from my wretched life, and he was the perfect diversion.

Dating experts say you shouldn’t be too available at first. Texting too much can make things fizzle or over expose you to a new person too quickly. In my case, I didn’t even live in the city where these men were asking to take me on a date. It was all foreplay, no action. I think, in most cases, being very available and talking a lot at first gave us some connection to get us through the busier times ahead. I had to go home and pack my house and move my kids. It wasn’t going to be nonstop late night calls forever. When we put in a little effort at the start, it was harder to forget that person when life got busy.

We talked the rest of the week. My family caught me giggling at my phone screen. I was distracted and definately annoying, but they let it go. I was in a shitty place. He started calling and facetiming at night when my kids went to bed. The night before I went home, we stayed up most of the night on the phone like teenagers. When he realized I had a long drive ahead and he’d kept me up late, he asked to track my location on the drive home so he could follow my progress (I ran a background check on him before I shared my info of course) and he sent me encouraging texts throughout the day.

You’re almost halfway! The weather looks clear for the rest of the day! Only three hours to go! Don’t forget to take breaks and drink coffee!

I had been married a long time. After a while, there’s no checking in. No worry for my safety, or even that of his children. Not even sure when we’re returning, unless he needed to hide evidence of his affair before we arrived. It was so nice to have someone at least pretend to care.

Because I know some of it was pretend. Some cute things they say are just the lines with the best rate of return. If you’re dating for years, there are only so many ways to introduce yourself and butter up a woman. I get it. But at that point, I was thrilled with pretend. I had been pretending for years, and my husband had stopped before Obama’s second term.

Lie to me. Tell me I’m beautiful and interesting and smart. Tell me I’ll be fine. Tell me three kids is not too many. Tell me you’re looking for a monogamous relationship. Tell me you’re emotionally stable and don’t mind that I’m not even divorced yet. Just tell the right kind of lies.

And so, I let the nice cop follow us home from a safe distance. He checked on me all day and kept talking to me when I got home. I had to go back to reality, back to a partially packed house, and back to empty spots in my closet and our office where my husband had had things removed by professionals while we’d been away. I knew it was coming, and the fewer items he left behind the better, but it was still upsetting after a very long day.

At least I had a distraction.