Skin to Skin Contact

So, I read his phone, discovered he was cheating on me with the woman who rents our apartment from us. Lovely.

He swore it had only been going on since February 2016 it was now November 2016.  He said he thought he loved her.  That he loved me too but wasn’t “in love” with me.  He said it might be for the best as we had been together so long.  He raced ahead to the future and started telling me that he could watch the kids whilst I went out on dates. It would be all civilized and he would ask how my date went….? WTF?!  He’d obviously moved on and I was playing catch up!

Each night was tortuous. We’d talk. I’d think we were getting somewhere then another question would come to me . So I’d ask him. “Did you use protection?” (I was convinced my ongoing UTI could quite easily be chlamydia or a  sexually transmitted disease – wouldn’t have been the first time.)  “Where did you meet?”, “Has she been in our house?”  Have you slept together in this house?” “How did it start?”  – they went away together to work on a job for his friend’s wedding. He told me she was helping out with providing equipment (that I transported in my car to the depot whilst his mum baby sat our 2 month old daughter) but he did not tell me that she was going too.  He’d talked about us all going but I said I couldn’t face the drive. Not with a young baby. So me and kids stayed at home whilst he was away ‘working’.

Whether this was when it started or not I don’t really care to believe one way or another. They’d worked together for a few years before this so anything could have happened.  I do know, as I wrote in my previous post, that she was seeing his mate and mutual colleague, who helped us repair our house before we moved in during November 2013, and all of a sudden they fell out.  I was told because the mate – lets call him ‘Harry’ – was insanely jealous and possessive of Bitch and she asked him to come round to calm him down and to protect her as Harry was kicking off and battering on the door.  I have since spoken to Harry. He tells a similar story but with a completely different outcome.

Harry did go round to see Bitch but she wasn’t in.  He waited in a local pub and then tried her door again as he could see there was now lights on but there was no answer…. He went round to the back of the house and looked in the window and seen the two of them having wine and dinner together, laughing and having a good old time. I think that is maybe when Harry got upset and confronted them.

Harry also told me a few other things that made me see things differently. A story can be told in many different ways.  The same story with slightly changed or augmented details can make all the difference.  Don’t I know it now!

I do believe that Bitch flung herself at him.  That it was too good a opportunity to resist. I will need to ask her who made the first move…  But thinking about it with the new found ‘twisted logic’ I now have thanks to him, I bet it was him who tried to kiss her in the taxi and not the other way round. Easy pray. Slightly vulnerable. Willing to trust but quite independent. A fucking, self-aware sucker!

For someone to be so adept at lying and pulling of all this kind of stuff must have taken years of practice. Slowly building up to the big one.  The one where his balls get drained that much that he can’t help but be with her.  She won’t even get a say in it.  She will think it was her choice to let him move in. But think back – how did it come about? Was it planned and you set a moving in date? Did you tell your parents and friends he was planning on moving in? Did you choose furniture together or ask him what stuff he would be bringing with him? Any photos? Any books? A CD collection? Bike? Nike trainers collection?  No, none of that. I bet he just turned up unannounced.

That’s what Slutface told me when I confronted her. That he just turned up on her doorstep. That I’d moved back home after his mum told me he and Slutface were serious! Yet this was after I’d apparently given them my blessing to go to Berlin together at the start of November 2016. Sorry, I thought he was away working on a tour of the UK and Iceland with a famous singer! My mistake!

He told both me and Bitch that he was away on this tour and that he was in  Reykjavik. He described how he had to pack up the tour bus, what it was like sleeping on the bus, getting the crates of equipment to the airport, packing up just the essential as they couldn’t take what they would normally do. He sent me texts describing Reykjavik as just like a big Stornoway. How he couldn’t wait to get home. That he missed me and the kids.  Bitch was getting the same kind of texts but with more kisses at the end. Oh, and she got pictures too. Very rare for me to get a picture text.  All lies! Yes, he was offered the contract but he turned it down. Instead he spent different nights in different homes within a 1 mile radius of each other before flying off to Berlin with Slutface then spending another last night with her back at her flat to finish of their holiday. Well done. I hope he enjoyed his “once in a lifetime treat” of dinner up the Berliner Fernsehturm TV tower.  Did it taste better second time around?

So, going back to the supposed start of all this, April 2015… I had recently given birth. A traumatic birth where my waters broke but nothing happened, then I got induced but still nothing happened, then they cranked up the drugs and I started to push but too quickly for the doctors’ liking, then they kept losing her heart beat and told us I may need a caesarean, then I just had to push as my whole body was telling me to and they are telling me not to, and I’m only 5cm dilated, but out she comes and the umbilical cord is wrapped round her neck.  Job done but not without worry and panic.  When I was going through that was he already leading his double/triple/quadruple life? Thinking of her when his daughter was being born?  Our daughter then turned blue after she was place on my breast for skin-to-skin contact. I had to shout the midwife. It was not the worst birth story but it was far from easy. Nothing had went as planned.

Within months he was fucking someone else. Nice start to our kid’s life. And nice contributing factors to my suspected post natal depression.  I’m going to baby massage classes and he is away abroad shagging another woman! I’m up during night trying to breast feed my daughter who is never sated and he’s still not home.  He is out at work all the time ‘earning’ as he now has two mouths to feed.  His mother and my mother are round quite often helping me out as I can’t manage two children.  I never asked for help with my first baby. I only remember one time asking my dad to come round and take my son out a walk as I was so damn tired and just needed to sleep. This time I couldn’t manage anything; the laundry, making dinner, tidying, getting out to shops. I was on my own completely or so it felt. He had opted out but I couldn’t see it as he made a good tale of blaming it on other things. All these monthly stock-takes he was doing for the pub, catching and dealing with rats in the pub, doing the ordering, dealing with colleagues ineptitude and how he’d have to stay late to finish what hadn’t been done, how his boss was rotten at organising anything, staying behind to sort out his wages.  Drinking and fucking in the kitchen or back office more like it. Meeting Bitch in the place he works and having drinks and a snog with her in public whilst I am sat at home waiting on him coming in. Yes, that’s very fair. No wonder my anxiety levels were through the roof.  He said he’d be finishing at 5pm but didn’t get home until 7 hours later… He was just having a quick drink after work – 2am, how time flies!

Advertisements

Red Flags & D-Day

I knew. I knew something was wrong. I didn’t know what but call it instinct.

All those times I asked him what was wrong, asked if anything was going on. If he was seeing someone. Why did he have an Ashley Madison account?

I knew. I knew something was wrong. I didn’t know what but call it instinct.

All those times I asked him what was wrong, asked if anything was going on. If he was seeing someone. Why did he have an Ashley Madison account?

Me warning him about Bitch and how I didn’t like him spending time with her. He talked about her quite a lot when I was pregnant. I knew he was spending too much time in her company and it worried me enough to mention it to his mother. Me and her were quite close and she has helped me a lot through the years. She told me to keep an eye on it…

He raged when I accused him of screwing someone else. He stormed out. A sure sign to me he was hiding something. Why be so defensive if you are completely innocent?  Too close to the truth.  I never imagined the other woman would turn out to be the person it was.  I was imagining a random stranger or someone he had met in the pub where he worked…

I said to him to leave if he wanted. But he didn’t. Fucking coward. So selfish. He didn’t want it all tumbling down.

I’d have more respect for him if he’d been honest. What was he protecting me from? This? This feeling of death?  This feeling of despair?  This feeling of heartache, brutal betrayal, sickness and complete annihilation?  Thank you.  A sit-down, honest, grown-up conversation could have saved us and our children from going through this evil turmoil.  It would still have been unpleasant but a conversation along the lines of; “I’m not sure about us.”, “Maybe we need a break.”, “I’m struggling with life, I need to find myself.”, “Can you give me some space, some time.” “I have a confession, I made a mistake and I slept with someone.” “I think I have fallen for someone else.” “I don’t think our love is strong enough to carry us anymore…”  Any one of those lines, at any point, before I uncovered the ugly truth would have saved my heart. It would have been broken still but it would not have been ground and trampled, discarded and ignored.  If he’d said, “I’ve been shagging someone I work with.” A captive audience for his lies.  His lies were his downfall. The lies about his dad tripped him up. Different stories for different people. Cast the net wide and see what fish flounder by.

I’d been suspicious for a while. I’d lost trust in him before back in 2004 when I discovered he’d been cheating on me with a woman he worked with. He swore they never slept together. I stupidly believed him or convinced myself to believe him.  We split up for 7 months then got back together. I became pregnant after 3 months of being back together… That is another story I will tell in due course.

I was suspicious mainly because of his attitude to his phone. He always had it on him or in his hand. It never rang but he was always busy on it. Taking it to the bathroom with him. Getting up in the morning and it was the first thing he reached for. Glued to it rather than interacting with our children. Rather than paying attention to me. Sitting in the same room as me texting them. Making plans. Asking what hours I was working so he could message each of them and plan his schedule in front of me. Sniggering to himself about how sown up he had all this. Having his cake and eating it then going back for seconds. How dare he treat me like this!

He slipped up. He left it charging in the bedroom unattended. The very fact it wasn’t on his person was surprising in itself. I’d seen him swipe his passcode a few times so knew what pattern it was. There was a text just came in from Bitch. I read it! How much she missed him and couldn’t wait to see him. The love yous and kisses at end of each message. I felt sick. I went dizzy. I scrolled through some of the rest. I understood. He’s fucking having an affair with the women who rents our old apartment from us! The room spun. I couldn’t breathe. It’s been going on for a while judging by the number of texts. I was reading them but not fully processing the words. Skimming through their life together, their plans. What the hell!

I put the phone back down and descended the stairs. He could tell I was upset but I just said I didn’t feel too good.  I’d been suffering with the start of a urine infection (cystitis) for a few days before this and it was pretty agonising. I blamed it on this. I kept having to run to the loo feeling like I needed to pee all the time. I headed upstairs again and this time took the phone into the bathroom with me. He must have realised and came up after me shouting “Where’s my phone?!”, “Give me my phone!”. He kicked the bathroom door in with rage. I was terrified. His face was black and scowling fiercely, like he was an unhinged psychopath. I was shocked and scared. He obviously had plenty to hide.

I left to go to work. We’d argued in hushed tones all that morning, me in shock, him trying to answer my questions or bat them away. I left early and went round to the apartment she rented from us. No anwser. I remembered that when I was scanning through the texts I kept seeing the name Rubus pop up. I thought it was the name of her cat possibly. I didn’t read the texts with any clarity but I recalled she used to work in a coffeshop. There was a local coffee shop called Rubus nearby. I drove there.

I had only met her once before when he brought her round to talk about her renting from us. We had a chinese and I went to bed early as I was 7 months pregnant. I couldn’t really remember what she looked like but I plucked up courage went into that small cafe and asked to speak with Bitch. There she was… I quietly asked her for a word. Asked if she knew who I was? I stated in no uncertain terms for her to get out the flat. That she was being evicted and I wanted her out as soon as possible. She had tears in her eyes and her lip started to tremble. She said “Can I Ask why?” Isaid, “I think you know why…” She just sort of nodded. No big drama. I was calm,clear and way to controlled which hopefully came across as sinister.

I went to work. Typed out eviction letters. Got my shit together. Blamed her. How could she do this to another woman?! Blamed him – wha the hell did he think he was doing? I didn’t go home until after 10pm.  I has already arranged to meet my two best friends (one of whom jus happened to be on a rare visit home from abroad). I met them and cried over dinner. Got patched up. Then I went home…

Up until all hours talking. There was me hoping to sort it, asking questions, crying with grief – he never said a thing that made it better. I initially thought I only had one love rival. One other person who turned your head. He led me to believe there was only one woman. Of course he was not going to admit that there was a second or even third woman outright. But once I knew about the second woman I knew I was in for a rough time. I saw him with my own eyes weave the lies. Tie himself up in knots. Keep the plates spinning. I had made the discovery about Slutface around 10 days after confronting him about the first. What a vile pig! Betray me once – fool me, betray me twice – kill me, betray me thrice – be fearful!

Half-truths

Half-truths work on all levels – they sound plausible because they are based on reality, past experiences and nothing outlandish or implausible.

half-truth-twainYou may be wondering dear reader, how could a wife not notice her husband was having 2 affairs simultaneously?

A wife would NOT notice if she trusted her husband, if she believed what he said, if she took his word.

Why would anyone lie about what hours they were working, where they were working, who they were working with or meeting? Why would they need to? Why write it on the family calendar? To rub my nose it in? To laugh at how stupid I was and get one over on me?  I honestly think he is more devious than he looks. The outer shell of forced respectability hides the inner personality which is a confused wee boy who wants some love from his mammy or another pair of breasts! The cheap thrill of the ego boost.

The key to his deceptions and the key to being a successful liar is to tell ‘half-truths’.  Half-truths work on all levels – they sound plausible because they are based on reality, past experiences and nothing outlandish or implausible.

The lies can be introduced slowly. Lots of seed planting and devious long-term card playing and manipulation of truths. A partners deceit can also be easily missed when you are a tired mother to a new born, trying your hardest to breast feed successfully, deal with another child and keep a home running…

Nothing that comes out of his mouth wasn’t half-true.  He WAS meeting Bitch for coffee on a Thursday afternoon when I was out at work until late evening.  He DID bump into her in the park.  He DID help her move into our flat.  He WAS offering a job in ‘his cafe’.  What the hell? Does he like bringing his prey home to rub my unsuspecting nose in it?

The more I write the more twisted and devious the whole thing seems.  I have never viewed him as twisted or manipulating.  I didn’t know he was a game player!

He was never away overnight unless he was away properly with work for perhaps 2 nights, 5 nights, or 9 nights, which didn’t happen that often.  About once every 2-3 months.  So all the times he said he was away working and painting the picture of being a decent hard working man. He wasn’t. What a dickhole!

It all seems fairly obvious now we have all compared dates and locations. Bitch, Slutface and I have all spoken, have now met each other, have all spoken at length, have talked on the phone for hours, have been to pub together.  We’ve been texting each other, Facebook messaging etc.  I do not sweep under the carpet. I confront and deal with. I lay it out there.

The only one who is not communicating and has not been talking is him!!  The key player to it all and he is silent.  He sent apologies to me, excuses to Bitch and tries his hardest to placate his mother (the other 4th woman in his life now) and keep Slutface sweet through various grovelling,  manipulating and seductive tactics.  Getting caught is when you really understand how badly things are messed up. A mess of your own making I’m afraid.

I can see it plain as day. If he thinks or thought he was being clever, then yes he was clever and capable & calculating & plotting and has an immense capacity for stress.  His organisation & logistics were exemplary.  It was like a military plan.  Juggling our conversations, his appointments or various work roles.  All thanks to the convenience of the smart phone. What a poker face.  How did he keep us all sweet?

Introducing the Cast

“she was too skinny to have proper, deep sex”

It will be obvious from my first and previous posts that I have been a ‘victim’ of a cheat.

I have been dumped.  I have had the dirty done on me.

I am going through the consequences of infidelity and my partner of 21 years (I am 40) has been having an affair.

But not just one affair!

Well, I don’t even know if these affairs are just a recent thing – I may have been oblivious to his deceptions for years.  I will, perhaps, never know.

He has not admitted much in this sorry tale. He is scared to open his mouth or explain.  He will only confirm or deny if heavily pressed or cornered, or caught-out with a series of harder and harder questions that ask for more detail each time.

Everything I have uncovered has been from my own investigation, from speaking to people, from having the balls and guts to confront, the bravery to ask out loud, the tenacity to question. I am willing to make myself look stupid and feel embarassed when I do utter the words and try to explain how the man I love and father of my children has done this to me and why it makes me feel so disgraced and ashamed. That I was a stupid chump.

I have not raged or been abusive to anyone. I have held my dignity. I have been clear and weirdly calm on the outside whilst inside is a burning, molten ball of rage, with a nervous, trembling, palpitating and depth plunging anxiety.  My nerves have held fast on the surface so far.  I have been constantly dizzy and the room has been spinning.  Every time I turn my head I think I am going to pass out. I have to steady myself. Grab on.

The ‘divorce diet’ – yes, I’m on it.  I do not need sustinence. My guts won’t let me.  I cannot look at a plate of food.  I still go food shopping, I still cook basic meals for my children but I am surviving on bananas, rare packets of crisps and an occassional biscuit or chocolates.  I cannot swallow. I cannot eat.

I see this as a benefit. One of the rare good things to come out of this horrendous situation. What woman doesn’t like to lose weight?  I can fit in my tight trousers again.  My stomach is flatter. I have lost the pregnancy weight. Grief is the mourning of loss yet I am secretly celebrating losing a few kilos!  It must be the love fat draining out my heart!

Oh, the ridiculous irony!  I wasn’t good enough or attractive enough for him.  Not skinny enough for him like she was. Yet he complained, “she was too skinny to have proper, deep sex”. He thought he would, ” break her” or “snap her”.  No ball plunging, deep action for him there then!

That reminds me. I should introduce my co-stars.

First we have ‘Bitch’ – an ex-colleague of his.  They used to work together in a local cafe.  She had a relationship with his best mate who also worked in the same cafe. (A hub of possible fornication and intrigue). The relationship with Bitch and his best mate started about 3 or 4 years ago whilst she was going through a divorce (as far as I was told. Although I vaguely recall a story where best mate did not realise Bitch was still married and broke it off as he didn’t want to be ‘the other man’). She knows the joys of a long-term serious relationship, she knows the pain of splitting up.  She got to do it gradually and mutually as her and her husband had to live in the same house until it sold.  She has no children.  She is of similar age to me.  I think she would like children one day but the clock is ticking for her.

She also happens to rent a property from me/us.  She lives in our old family home. She has rented the flat for the past 18 months.  I confronted her and told her to leave but that situation is too much to deal with right now.

The second lovely lady is ‘Slutface’. Again a colleague from a different place of work.  He hired her and trained her up apparently.  I think they were just having a fuckfest and now she is landed with him whether she likes it or not.  She is 13 years younger than him.  A different generation.  She is not averse to posting on social media and letting the world see her life.  Her story is untrue – her relationship with him is based on falsehoods and lies, as was Bitch’s.  She left the evidence for anyone to find.  Alas, she did not know it was evidence.

In a way I am now doing the same by typing this blog.  The only difference is this story is mine to tell, is mine to exploit and use in whatever way I see fit.  Whatever way helps me or aids other people.  And whatever paints the true story and not the edited version that will be released soon by him and his lieutenants.

Yes, my lovely partner told them both he was single, or going through a separation. He jumped the gun by about two years but eventually that wish came true for him.

In his version I had left the family home. This is what he told them both.  I left my kids with him and moved back to my parents.  He was a single dad.  He painted the picture of a devoted father, who had to be there for his young daughter and son.  I believe he ‘used’ our 2 month old daughter to ingratiate himself to Bitch initially, then also to Slutface.

I gave birth to our daughter in April 2015, by June 2015, he and Bitch had slept together. Can’t blame my post natal depression for that one as it hadn’t caught me by that point. But one can guess what contributed to it!

It was then February 2016 before he started getting dirty with Slutface.  What a busy boy he has been!  I only  start to find out about his ‘shenanigans’ (sorry, that is too light a word, let me change it.)  His… duplicitous, cruel, manipulative behaviour on the 13th November 2016. My D-Day as they say on affair websites.  My Remembrance Sunday!

Starting the Journey

Yes, there are plenty of blogs written about cheating and infidelity.  The journey that an offended party goes on is surely similar in many respects to that of grief.  There is the denial.  The “no, this cannot be happening to me/us”.  Then comes anger – how dare you do this to me, what was the point, I need to kick your head in.  Followed by a slice of bargaining from either side – “I promise to put her down”, “come back for the kids sake”, “we can make this work”.  Then there is the depth of despair, the depression and why bother with life if you are not in it stage. Then lastly we have acceptance and can hopefully move on.

I am aghast that my partner not only had sex with someone else (I could have handled that) I am rocked to my core at the level of deceit involved. The lies, the betrayal, the reassurances that everything between us was okay, that he wanted to be with me, that he wanted us to be a family, that he was working hard for us – a conscientious family guy who took in jobs, worked long hours. He was a great father, a wonderful lover, a kind man. Yet he was dishonest, a cheater, a manipulator, emotionally abusive on a subtle level, financially abusive, a fraudster. Heck, if he had the marriage certificates he’d be a bigamist!

The pain of our story had wrecked me yet it has also allowed me to re-evaluate myself. As is common I blamed myself for the affair – I wan’t pretty enough, not caring enough, not desirable enough, too controlling, too weak, too successful, too kind, too trusting, too lazy, too boring, too mumsy, too damaged by my own problems and concerns. I cannot even now think of anything I have done either intentionally of accidentally that would in any way give someone the fuel or incentive required to behave in a hate filled and disrespectful way to me.

Even if he had fallen out of love with me or wasn’t liking the person I had became over the years then tell me, be honest, be open, say you need space or want to leave for a while. Yes I’d be hurt but I’d manage. I’d manage far better than how I am now as there would have been an appreciation of his honesty, that he respected me enough to vocalise his feelings, that he was not shy of opening up and laying it on the line, that he could read his own feelings and interpret what he needed. By carrying on regardless and ploughing through and making a mess of everything he touched. By upsetting so many people, by lying, by being deceitful, by thinking he could pull this whole thing off, by taking an extended ego trip, by thinking he could stick his dick up anyone by using mistruths and lies to get what he wanted, all show acts of a selfish, ego driven nature, thinking he was better than anyone else and was in control when actually he was floundering, in a panic and avoiding all the issues that were going on around him.

I am not a psychologist and have only just started reading up on the topic but I know his behaviour is abnormal, that it may have been well hidden for years and that he has a well worn veneer that upon my discovery of his infidelity started to crack. He still tried to hold it together and continued his lies even though I knew all about affair number two with slutface and didn’t tell him. I watched him dig his own grave, saying there was nothing else to tell me, that he was staying at his male friend’s flat, he even lied or got mixed up about how he felt about Bitch woman – saying he loved her and that it had only been going on since February. His ability to spin out the lies was unravelling and it was painful to watch the effort he put in.

There were even bigger lies, well just as big a set of lies, and I don’t think there is any greater hurt than being betrayed by the one you love completely. I read somewhere that the only greater hurt than this kind of long-term infidelity and cheating is the death of your child! The pain is enormous.

For 20 years I believed the story he told about his father. He never knew who his dad was. He’d never asked his mother growing up and his mother had never told him. One day after much deliberation and hours of discussion with me on the topic, he plucked up the courage to ask his mum. We were in a pub as he wanted to do it in public so it’d be more civilised and controlled. I left them to it.

After the event, maybe over the course of several weeks he told me his mum had given him the address of his father’s sister. She lived in the same town and had two children (his cousins) and he met them and went to their house, they were very nice and treated him well and with much kindness. They told him details of his father, which he in turn told me, that he lived in London and had a wife and children, that he’d arranged to meet him and they’d talked on the phone. His supposed meeting with his father didn’t take place until months and months, maybe years after this chat with his mum but at some point he did tell me that when he was in London visiting pals he did meet his dad and went for dinner with him. I remember asking what his dad’s name was and he gave me a weird avoiding answer so that even now I could not tell you what name he had told me and at the time I got a funny feeling but I thought he was just feeling awkward about it because it was so personal to him and made him over emotional. I felt I couldn’t mention this to his mum as he either said or gave the impression that his mum didn’t know he was going to London to meet his dad. So I kept quiet. For years.

Every so often I was fed a nugget. Like he’d met up with his dad when he was up visiting Edinburgh for work. He took our son to meet him. I thought at some point he would introduce me to his father but he never did. There was always some excuse – he’s having to travel back early or he’s got his wife with him or that there wasn’t time. Nothing that suggested he was fabricating this tale. I just thought it was all too emotional, it was his personal family business and I’ll leave him to deal with it as he saw fit.

He must have realised he could reel me in and I’d believe him even if the truth was nothing like the picture he painted. The only reason I now know this to be a long two decades of spun out lies is because after I discovered his affair with Bitch woman, she came round to the house to talk to me and she was the one that told me about his “dead Jewish dad”.  It all unravelled from there. I could not understand why he would not have told me this important life event. I asked him about it. He squirmed. He said he couldn’t talk about it. That it was too painful. I felt for him. I felt deep anguish that he could not confide in me. That he had been carrying this weight of grief. Bitch had told me he attended the funeral. And I thought it strange that at no pint he had ever told me or I’d noticed a change or that he went away for a few days to attend this funeral. I was very confused. He told me his dad had died at the same time that his mate C was getting married in London, that he didn’t want to spoil their big day. I said I’m sure C would have understood, that he hadn’t of coped alone and should have told someone. My heart went out to him, he’d been dealing with this anguish alone, he’d never now have a proper relationship with his biological father. I then thought the penny had dropped and he’d been left money in the will (like he always wished he would, that he be recognised in his dad’s will as his long lost son that he was too mortified to tell his wife about so secretly gifted him some money in the will) according to Bitch woman there was a fight at the funeral because of this….

My concern but not yet fully fledged suspicion was raised. I felt pity and empathy. How could my buddy go through this hurt without letting on, without confiding in me like he had about all his other father anguishes and confusions. It was then it clicked. He didn’t because it was not true. He had lied to Bitch to gain sympathy, to paint a poor-me picture. Then I realised if he’d lied to Bitch he’d probably lied to me. Which version of his story was true? I honestly didn’t think he’d lied to me for nearly 20 years! But he had. We were all puppets in his make believe life.