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During the day, his contracting business kept him operating at a dizzying pace, hopscotching across towns and states to meet with clients. He was right there in our living room, laughing about an email from his brother or looking at a site for new gadgets.After those grueling hours, there was nothing Joe liked more than to come home, wrestle with Jamie, rub my back, and crash in front of his computer. Sometimes, though, I would wake up in the dark and find myself alone in bed. "Well, okay, maybe you could give them a call," I suggested, eager to clear the air with my parents.Porn offered Joe a "relationship" with zero emotional exposure.I was finally forced to see our marriage and our sex life for what it had become: a sham.
Still hoping for an explanation, I called Joe and asked about Heather. I can't work or concentrate." There was a desperation in his voice I'd never noticed before. "I just flirted in chat rooms and emails.""But why? "I wish I'd never gone on it." But Joe wasn't a kid, he was a 37-year-old dad. My father selected "cookies" from a menu on his Web browser, which listed every site that had been visited.
The sites had names like Sextracker and Sex Hunter, and there were numerous escort services.
The images were disturbing: not the kind of airbrushed photos you might see in I was aghast — and ashamed.
"Listen to me," the wise voice said, "I get calls from nice women like you all week long. I'll change the password on your husband's account and give it to you. If he's telling you the truth, fine, go back to him.
But if he isn't, leave the jerk." I stayed up all night reading Joe's emails — and I descended into the world of a stranger.
In his correspondence with three or four women, Joe described his wife — me — in such hateful terms, it made my skin crawl. I realized that I'd always looked at my marriage and seen what it could be, not what it was.