Friend Request Accepted

"That's okay; go out with your girls. We'll make up for it Saturday. No sense in you spending another night in when I'm not around."

"You know, I think I will go out. It's been a while since I went out."

"Yeah, I will probably just stay in at the hotel tonight; I had a few too many last night-that's why I didn't answer the phone this morning."

"I figured. I just hope you behaved yourself, mister."

"Always, babe. So, did you catch our sitcoms last night?"

"Uhhh...no. I didn't."

"Oh, what did you do last night?"

"Oh, nothing. Just stayed at home. I guess I was really tired. I made some dinner, talked to my sister on the phone, then turned on the tube and fell asleep before the shows had even started."

"Sounds exciting."

"You know me."

Increasingly, I felt that I didn't.

"Well, you can have all the fun you want tonight. I'll see you Saturday afternoon."

"Okay baby. I love you, goodbye!"

"Goodbye."

I was being lied to. That much was clear. Was she cheating on me? Hard to say. I needed to know more. First things first. I called my secretary. She hadn't spoken with Julie. I told her I wanted to surprise her with my early arrival, so, if she asked, I wanted her to tell Julie that she had booked me a return flight for Saturday morning. I wanted her to find a flight out of Baltimore to here that left around 9:30 a.m. or so, and tell Julie that that was my return flight if she asked. No, I didn't want her to actually book the flight. No, I didn't want to her email or call Julie with the information-just give it to her if she asked. Otherwise, do nothing. No, regardless of whether Julie asked or not I still wanted her to get the information about the flight so that she could tell Julie if asked. Sigh....I really had to get a new secretary.

I gathered my clothes from last night, made up the guest bed, called a cab, and took my suitcase and carryon with me to a hotel. I had to think for a while, and plan. I didn't want to do the whole P.I. thing, if I didn't have to. I could afford it, but what's the point? I wanted this resolved sooner, rather than later. I recalled Julie's annoyance with my news about coming back early; that could be explained by her having plans with another man, if there was another man, Friday night. Thus, the excuse about a girls' night out-I wouldn't expect her to take my call that evening, and wouldn't expect her to be answering the phone early on Saturday early, either. So, she could have moved her 'date night' up to Thursday night instead, knowing that I would be out at dinner and drinks, unlikely to call her, and she would have the excuse of going to bed early, etc. Now, she reaffirmed her girls' night out plans, meaning, most likely, that she would reschedule her 'date night,' again assuming there was another man, and would still have her cover. It seemed a likely bet. So, it seemed reasonably likely that I could catch her, if there was anything to catch, by following her tonight.

I called the hotel concierge to arrange for a rental car-an understated, dark colored sedan. I bought a hat, large sunglasses and a pair of thick reading glasses. I took the lenses out. Just something to disguise my face if she glanced in my direction. I bought a pair of dark dress pants and a slightly too big dark sport coat off the rack. I could wear this outfit, with or without a tie (of which I had plenty) pretty much anywhere without looking out of place. I slicked my hair back (I never wore it that way), and figured that, at a glance, I wouldn't be noticed. As a final measure, I stuffed two rolled-up lengths of toilet paper into the heal of both shoes I would be wearing. I remember reading that every person has a distinctive walk-that a person, even in disguise, can be recognized by their walk by those who know them well. But, a little thing like changing your walk-by putting something in your shoes, can make you unrecognizable from a distance. I figured I was set. Then, I did one more thing. I hadn't shaved since the morning before. I'm not a hairy guy, but I had a healthy amount of stubble going. I bought eyeliner at the hotel store, and then highlighted my goatee stubble with it, shaving the rest of my face. It helped it fill in. From close up, it looked kind of ridiculous. But, from a distance, it looked like I had a dark, thick, and closely-cropped goatee. Seemed fitting, somehow.

I got dressed, and drove to my neighborhood. There was a small corner store a half a block from my house, opposite from the direction Julie would be coming if she came from work. I parked there, and watched my house. I was banking on her coming home before getting ready for her 'date.'

I reflected on what I was doing, what I would do if the worst was confirmed, and what had happened to Julie and I, and our marriage.

What was I doing? I was finding out the truth. That part was simple. What would I do if I found out she was seeing another man? Not sure yet. I would be pissed, that's for sure. Cheating is wrong. Period. If the marriage isn't working for you, then get a fucking divorce. Better yet, try talking to your spouse about it. Urge counseling. Make your needs known. If you are feeling like the grass is greener, if you are the target of seduction, if you are giving in to temptation, if you are feeling an itch, if you are developing an infatuation with another-whatever; then fucking step back and be honest about your feelings. Be fair to your spouse, damn it! Show a little fucking respect! Whatever your spouse's failings, they don't deserve such utter contempt and disrespect that cheating on them shows. You got married: you promised to God, your spouse, your family and your friends that you were committing to your spouse and your marriage-that you would forsake all others and all that. If you can't, or won't, honor that promise-then be honest about ending the marriage, before you make a mockery of it. You're confused? You don't know what you want? Well, cheating on your spouse isn't going to make things any more clear for you-unless you want your spouse to catch you and want them to be the 'bad guy' and end it because you don't have the balls to do it. And that's just a coward's way out-complete bullshit to lay that on the person you betray.

On the other hand, people can have a 'slip.' I had one with Maria. Sure, we weren't married, but we were committed. It may not be as bad in some respects, but it wasn't much less bad. But, although I could never condone a 'slip,' I could understand it-given the right circumstances. I know I wouldn't do it again, but I could see how someone could. And, maybe that I could forgive. It would be hard, but, with enough love, and enough contrition, I think I could give Julie the chance that I had prayed Maria had given me. But....was there enough love?

I thought about our marriage. I loved Julie. I really did. But, sometimes I had to say it to myself. I think I always treated her with love. I did the big things right, and I also made it a point to do the little things-the little romantic and kind things to brighten her day. She was good to me, too. But, I began to think about the dynamic of our marriage. She was in charge. She made the big decisions. Our friends increasingly became her friends. My old buddies were sort of edged out. She had gotten me to stop tailgating to Vikings games-I used to love doing that with my college buddies. I rarely went out with my old friends.

We did what she wanted, when she wanted. She kept me happy with sex, and she could cook, when she actually did it. And, she kept a nice home. But it was her home-I had never been put on the title. I paid my money into common accounts-so we had been making payments on the house together-yet it was still in her name.

Speaking of sex, it had dropped off quite a bit over the last six months or so. Granted, I was on the road a lot. But, even when I wasn't, it had fallen off. If anything, we should have been having more when I was home, but it was the opposite. And, she had been less enthusiastic recently.

While Julie generally said nice and loving things to me, when I thought about it, she usually did that only in response to my doing it for her; like saying "you're welcome" to a "thank you." When was the last time she unprompted crawled into my lap like a cat and wrapped her arms around me? I used to love that. When was the last time she had come up behind me and grabbed my cock (a personal favorite of mine to show me she was horny)?

And, speaking of respect, she had always been big on the 'honey-do' lists for me. But, increasingly, it had been given as a matter of expectation, rather than request. It had been given as a demand, rather than a favor, delivered with a kiss and a hug.

What I felt was missing in our relationship, what had been bothering me before all of this came to a head, I began to realize was an amalgam of love, honor and respect for me. And, those missing elements-necessary to any healthy relationship, much less marriage- seemed to have been fading away steadily for some time.

I still loved Julie. I still wanted to be with her. But, I realized that, regardless of what I discovered, things would have to change for us, or our marriage was doomed anyway.

Julie arrived home at the expected time. I waited. An hour and a half later (how do cops on a stake-out do it?), she pulled out. I followed. She ended up driving to a suburb north of town. Quite a ways north. Third-ring, or maybe fourth-ring suburb north. Like where the farms start appearing north. She was clearly trying to get away from prying eyes.

She pulled into a parking lot for a supper-club by a lake. I followed at a safe distance. She emerged from the car, and I could see she was dressed to the nines-little black dress and all of that. She looked great. The promised excessive thickness she had when we first met had not yet materialized.

She entered the club. Half an hour later, I did the same, cautiously. The cars outside told me that the place would be fairly well populated. It was. I took a seat at the bar, opposite the dining room, away from the entry and the bathrooms, picking up a newspaper to peer over into the dining room. I saw them. In a back booth. It was dimly lit, but it was her. He was a little older, maybe late thirties, and good looking. Probably better looking than me, by most objective criteria, but no Adonis, either. He was well-dressed in an expensive suit. I didn't recognize him. I doubted he worked with us. They were clearly comfortable with each other, less clearly to the casual observer (but I was studying them over my newspaper screen) they were flirting and had amorous intentions. Light, but lingering touches, gazing into each others' eyes, a little smile here, a knowing nod there. They were sharing a bottle of wine. I had a beer. They were eating. I wasn't hungry.

When they looked ready to go, I paid my tab and retreated to my car. They came out minutes later. He was probably about my height, a more slender build than I had. He got into his car-a moderately-priced luxury sedan (if that's not an oxymoron)-and she into hers. Based on how they were acting, without a kiss goodnight, it was clear that they would be meeting up after they left. They pulled out, she following him, and I followed her. They pulled into the driveway of a nice home just outside the city limits.

I had given them enough space that I didn't run up on them. Nevertheless, there was no natural turning point, and I couldn't park there, so I drove past them. It was getting dark, but I put my hand to my cheek anyway, to disguise myself as I drove by.

I made a u-turn half a mile up the road, and doubled back. I killed my lights as I pulled up to the house. I pulled into the drive, outside of view of the front windows (convenient). I walked up to the side of the house-no fence. I look out my Android phone. I made sure the ringer was off (again), I made sure the flash was off (again), and I put it into picture mode. I walked around to the back of the house. I heard a shuffling ahead of me at the edge of the lawn-where it met the long wild grass. Oh shit! A dog! I didn't think about a dog!

I froze. I stared. It emerged. A raccoon. Whew! No matter how prepared you think you are....

I walked around to the nearest rear window. Mud room-nothing. Next window-kitchen-nothing. Next window-bedroom-bingo! That didn't take them long. They were embracing, kissing, stripping each other-steadily, not frantically; I guess they got the edge off the night before. I look a couple of photos, checked their quality-they came out good. I recognized her in them both. I waited, didn't bother to look into the window again for a few minutes. Back up, mostly naked now, still kissing; click, click. Back down. A few minutes more. Back up, naked now, him eating her out; click, click. Back down. Check images-her face is clearly visible; great. Sigh. Wait five minutes, realize I am crying. Wipe my eyes. Back up, he's fucking her; click, click, click. Back down, check images-not clearly her, but clearly the same scene-can see his face well, though. Thinking I've seen enough, gotten enough. But, what the hell, once more with feeling. Back up. Good timing. He's pulling up; she's turning over onto all fours. I notice his cock-normal sized: maybe a little bigger or a little smaller than mine, hard to tell without perspective; doesn't matter-not sure if I would have felt better or worse if he was hung like a horse. He gets into the saddle, click, click, click. Back down, check images-her and his face are clear. He's got the vinegar strokes face-must be close. Kind of quick, by my standards. But, whatever. However, curiosity gets the better of me, and I am up one last time. Sure enough, he must have finished. He pulls out, and peels the condom off his flaccid cock. If this has been going on longer than since my most recent time out of town (and, based upon their casual, unhurried behavior in bed, and their conduct in the restaurant, it has) at least she has the common decency to make him wear a condom.

I leave.

I drive back to the hotel. I don't want to think. I watch a stupid movie. I realize I am hungry. I order some chicken fingers from room service. I check my emails, of all things. I answer a few personal ones from old friends. I log onto Facebook, which I have been on for a couple of years, but usually neglect for weeks at a time. I find myself spending a couple of hours looking at what my old friends, friends I have had little or nothing to do with for years, are up to. I send a few private messages. I get undressed and go to bed. I can't sleep. I log back onto Facebook. I do a friend search for Maria Shulte, my old girlfriend. She pops up, but as Maria Shulte Hannigan. Is she married? Divorced? Not clear. Though her privacy setting are high for non-friends (like me), her profile picture shows that it is the one and only Maria Shulte from my past. She looks really good-older certainly, but maybe better than when we were going out. I send her a friend request. I turn off my computer and go to bed. I am asleep within minutes.

The next morning, I am up early. I shower, cleaning off the ridiculous eyeliner goatee. I shave. I go down to the cafe for a coffee and a light breakfast. I am not ready to think about things yet, so I grab a newspaper and skim it for a while. My phone rings around 8:30 a.m. It's Julie. I let it go to voicemail. I check the voicemail from Julie: "Hey Baby! Hope you're up and on your way to the airport. Probably in line at security with your phone off, I'm guessing. I've missed you! See you when you get home."

I figure I might as well start thinking about what I'm going to do. I get a refill-seems like a 2-coffee morning. It's clear to me that this affair has been going on for a while. The signs were there for me-I just never recognized them before. Our marriage, while in many respects good, has had its problems, too. If it were to survive, a lot of things would have to change. If not for the infidelity, that would be true. It would probably take a lot of work. No telling if the changes I would need to happen would be acceptable to Julie. Now? Not sure I want to do the work. Damn! I am pissed.

She has dishonored me and this marriage. I want to burn the bitch. I want to fucking kill the other guy. I want to kill my wife.

Well, okay, I don't want to actually kill either one of them. I mean, I kind of do, but that would be wrong. And, I wouldn't want to spend the rest of my life in prison. I'm smart, and could quite possibly get away with it. But then again, I didn't think about a fucking dog last night; so who knows what sort of mistake I might make if I murdered one or both of them. At any rate, murder would haunt me, and God might not forgive that, and it would be excessive, I have to admit.

Maybe a total burn on them-publish the photos on the internet, send them to their families, co-workers, their friends, all of that? Tempting. But, the guy's house looked like that of a bachelor, no signs of wife or kids. And, I work with my wife; well, at the same company, anyway. They aren't going to fire her for cheating on me. It would only serve to embarrass her, and it would make things awkward for me. And, I like her parents well enough-they don't need to see that shit. My family? I'll tell them what happened when I divorce her-and I'm 99% sure I'll divorce her. They don't need to see that shit, either. They'll believe me.

The internet? I'm no lawyer, but I know that putting those on the internet could get me in some serious hot water. What's the point? Maybe I can use the photos for leverage to get a better deal in the divorce. But, at the end of the day, I can get into trouble publishing the photos, so I probably won't do anything with them. The more I think about it, I realize that Julie has acted like a total cheating slut bitch, but I don't believe she was cheating on me for years. I don't know why she cheated on me; why she started this affair; but I don't think she was a chronic cheater. She was a good wife for years. She contributed a lot to the marriage-what we have. She violated our marriage, but she can have her conscience and the damage to her reputation amongst those we know as her punishment.

I drive home.

I arrive at noon. Julie is doing laundry. Her hair is damp-she showered. She jumps when I say "Hi, Julie."

"William! How are you back already? Did you end up catching an earlier flight?"

"You could say that. I got here Friday."

"Friday? No you didn't. You told me you would get back until today...."

"Where were you last night?"

"What? I...uhmmm..."

"When did you get home?"

"Uhhhhhh....."

"I mean did you get home late last night, or this morning?"

"I spent the night at Gloria's house, we had too much to drink last night, and I just crashed there."

"Oh, so if I call Gloria right now, she'll confirm what you just told me?"

Panic. Kind of delicious to see.

"Uhhh...no. I lied. I don't know why I did. I had too much to drink last night, and I spent the night at a hotel. I just didn't want to give you the wrong idea. When did you get home? I left last night around 7 p.m. Where were you this morning? I got back around 9 a.m."

"If you don't mind, Julie, I'll ask the questions."

No challenge-the power had already shifted.

"What hotel did you stay at? Was it anywhere north of town?"

Eyes widened.

"Was it up near Big Lake, by any chance?"

"What? How do you...What did you hear? I....."

"Give it up, Julie. I know."

Her face went white. She slumped. Her hands on the drier. "It...It isn't what it seems...I...I..."

"Julie, please. Let's try total honesty. I know way more than you think I do. I don't know everything. But I know enough. I know you met a man last night at the Rusty Cello. I know you had dinner with him. I know you went to his house. I know you had sex with him. I know you've had sex with him before. Please don't tell me that I'm wrong. If there's any chance of us getting passed this....if you have any shred of respect or love for me, please just be honest."