I had been married for four years. Happy. Healthy. Two kids.
Wife had a good job, kids were young and a handful, but adorable. I had just started a new business venture - hung my own shingle (for the second time).
We lived our lives together but for me, there’s always been something “separate.” Something that is my own. Something that belongs only to me and in that place or feeling or mentality, I rule.
In that space, I’m not subject to anyone or anything.
Where anything /= my vices. In fact, it’s there where my vices rule. Where I think I have total freedom, I’m completely enslaved. But it’s a wanted slavery. It’s an escape to my passions.
To say that I have an insatiable sexual appetite would be an understatement. I’m the type of guy who can have several orgasms a day. For many that would be a characteristic worthy of boasting to lovers and friends - for me, it’s almost a disease.
This event wouldn’t be my first extramarital activity, but it would be the proverbial crack in the damn. I’ll cover the other gateways and stunts I pulled to not get caught in a later post.
I had to go out of town on business. Very excited. It was the second trip since my father died and I felt the need to “let loose.” It was only a day trip but it would prove just what damage I could do in 36 hours.
I arrived at my hotel and checked-in. I hadn’t picked this hotel for any particular reason but before I arrived, I scoped out all the places where I could find trouble that were within walking distance.
I don’t drink and drive any more. I did that a lot. I got caught twice. Nearly ruined lives. More on that later…
Near the hotel were two things I loved - casinos and strip clubs.
I was in paradise. Scratch the gambling itch. Drink alcohol on the cheap. Objectify women.
The plan was simple. Go get drunk, play some games, and troll for women. This was a game I loved. But I wasn’t very good at it. In fact, in 30+ years, I think I’ve only ever picked-up two women from bars. One of which turned out to be my wife. The other was an actual witch…
I played and lost a few hundred bucks on video poker. The cheap beer flowed like water. I had no luck with the women.
Dismayed that I had lost the touch and couldn't get a gal interested in me (I think that’s what it was really about, it wasn’t the sex - I just liked proving to myself that I still “had it”), I settled on the next best option: the strip club. They at least pretend to be interested.
It was late, things had started to quiet down, but the booze and hormones were waging a storm on my moral compass. Finally, I told myself that I really didn’t care what happened.
I went to the club with the full intention of paying a girl to come back to my room with me. Bright. I know.
But my lack of skill in the casino and bar stayed with me at the strip club. Two women said “they’d be back in 10 minutes and we could go.” 30 minutes later I’m getting kicked out by the bouncer as I yell “Candee is coming for me, just let me stay!” Pathetic.
I stumbled back to my hotel, resigning myself to more masturbation on RedTube. I fumbled with my key card, managed to get the exterior door open, and there she was.
A short, attractive (at least to me in that moment) Asian girl, not more than 22, who was shopping at the vending machine.
We looked at each other and smiled. At first I thought nothing of it. But as I walked down the hall and could hear her behind me, I stopped at my door, turned around and asked:
“Want to fuck?”
“Ahh… sure!” she says and walks right to me.
I open my door and throw her down on the bed. We rip each other’s clothes off. I still remember her beige and brown flowered dress, no bra, and black thong.
“Do you have a condom?” she asks.
“Ahh, no. Are you on birth control?” I counter.
“No…” she whispers.
“Let’s do it anyway” I say.
“Alright” she says as she pulls my pants off.
The details of what happened next are pretty self explanatory. But she was exactly what a part of me was looking for. No questions. No assumptions. No regrets.
If you ever want to write a painful sentence, write that last one as you think about your spouse and children. How much you love them. What it would mean to lose them. What it means to know you’ve betrayed them. How you feel because you know and they don’t and they never will. Shit.
After it was all over I stupidly ask “I’m clean, are you?”
“Ahh yah” she says - with a look of total confusion in her eyes.
I think we were both shocked. She put her clothes on and walked out the door.
I woke up four hours later. Hungover. Stunned. Ashamed. And I needed to go make money for my family. Stinking like alcohol, bloodshot eyes, and polarized nerves, I went and did what I had to do.
The trip home was one of the worst journeys of my life. What had I done? How could I actually have gone through with that? What if I got her pregnant? What if I got a disease?
On the way home I stopped at a local clinic to try and get a full-blown STD test (because something would have shown up by now, right? NO!).
I explained to the doctor what I had done and why it was in everyone’s best interest to get me on antibiotics, immediately.
I had to pay everything in cash. There could be no trace. The only memory could be with me.
As I got close to home I received the Email saying my prescription was ready. I stopped and slammed the 1000mg of meds.
I was terrified what would happen when I got home. What if my wife wanted to have sex? What if she gets infected from me? Surely the game is over.
I walked in the door and put on my best poker face. I told her I was tired and had an upset stomach (which I knew I’d get from the meds). She was fried from watching the two kids. She needed my help. I couldn’t even look at them.
I went to the bathroom and the first thing I noticed was a box of tampons was on the counter. Saved by Aunt Flow. There’d be no sex for several days and I could push it out a few more. Bullet dodged.
Two weeks later I went and got my first STD test in my entire life. Three horrible days of waiting for results. We’d had sex… but not for a week after I was on meds. But the meds aren’t perfect.
3:00PM I get the Email link for the results. Clear on everything. Thank God.
Maybe God knows that I need my wife and kids more than they need me. Maybe this was the first indication of that truism. Maybe that was supposed to be my one get-out-of-jail free card.
I hated myself for months after that event. I hated everything about that trip. I hated the time away. I hated being alone. I hated getting drunk. I hated gambling. I hated fucking that girl. I hated the drive home. I hated the doctor. I hated the meds. I hated looking at my wife and kids.
But then, six months later, something truly insidious happened. I thought to myself:
“If I can get away with that, and that was bad, then if I’m smart, what can’t I get away with?”
That question has tortured me for four years. It’s with me every day. Every moment it is THE question I fight against. And I lose. A lot.
There’s no happy epilogue to this story. It's still going...
SPOILER ALERT:
There are more variations of this story to follow. I’m going to take you on my journey of sexual addiction, sickness, or instability - whatever you want to call it.
I’m not sorry. I think sorry is a state. But do I apologize? Lord, YES!
I think that’s enough for now. Don’t cheat on your partner. It’s very hard to find the good in that event. It’s very hard to find trust within yourself. That loss of personal trust might be the biggest casualty in all of this.
