Chump Lady likes to do fun Friday challenges. She asks her readers a question and they respond. Friday’s question was: What was the biggest whopper of a lie you believed while married to the cheater? As of Sunday evening the comments were up to over 500; needless to say I didn’t toss my hat into that ring. Instead I will share here some of the biggest lies I believed. Also, it goes without saying that the biggest caveat to all of this was you couldn’t use the obvious: I love you! Or, that whole vowing to love you and be faithful to you thing. Yes, way too obvious of a lie.
Realistically, I have no idea how many lies he did actually tell me. Who knows what was fact and what was fiction? I suppose we could start with the basic lies that I don’t think are whoppers, but are lies that I bought without a second thought. Remember, CF was painted as a painfully shy individual who liked to read encyclopedias on the weekend instead of going out and partying. He was portrayed as an honorable man who would never cheat. My goodness, no! He was simply too honest, had too much loyalty; family was everything to him. If he only had a wife who would have dinner for him every night he would give her whatever she wanted. We all know how that played out.
First up would be the lie about the email he had sent way back in the beginning of our marriage, asking for more naked pictures of some supposed random strange woman. I do want to point out that I was pissed off about this. I didn’t wave it off by telling myself it was no big deal and something a lot of men did. I was genuinely angry and we had a fight about this. Nonetheless, I believed what he told me. Furthermore, I have no proof he lied about it, but with what I know now, I fully believe it was a lie.
I also believe he lied about seeing her when he went to Kentucky for his sister’s wedding. He is not in any of the pictures from that day. He insisted it was because his sister sent him on an alcohol run which caused him to almost miss the big day. I think he either snuck off to go see her or she came with him to the wedding and that’s why he was never photographed.
Then we have the lie about not knowing why on earth Harley blocked me on Facebook after the wedding. You may recall that he came home to a spotless house and pictures of Harley posted up in several different places, including as my computer wallpaper. He, of course, had no idea why she would do that, and that was between me and her.
I think that was the beginning of me believing lies in order to preserve my family. My sweet friend J told me the day I revealed to her that I had been blocked on her Facebook account that I needed to talk to a lawyer and I needed to protect myself. I didn’t listen. I wanted to believe him. I wanted so much to remain married and maintain my life. Accepting that my husband was texting with the ho-bag cousin would have put a dent in that fantasy.
I still remember telling him we had an appointment with a marriage counselor and him refusing to go. I remember then confronting him about Harley and all the lies that slipped between his lips when he was defending himself.
“Are you still in contact with her?”
“She blocked me.”
“I don’t know anything about that. That’s between the two of you.”
Hmmmm…. it couldn’t be because you told her about the pictures you came home to, could it?
I remember him telling me that I knew he hadn’t been happy in years, that we were nothing more than roommates. I remember telling him I wasn’t going to give up on us and that I thought we could be better than ever. I also remember him telling me that it would be “too weird” for that to happen, and him warning me that if I didn’t go back to me doing my own thing while letting him do his own thing that he didn’t know what was going to happen.
Yes, I ate the shit sundae. I smiled as that slimy cherry slid down my throat. I ate it all so that I could hopefully repair what I now know was my useless marriage. I just needed to make him love me again. He would see that it was possible. I would wear make-up all the time. I would dress better. I would keep the house clean. I would cook more. Life with me was going to be splendid.
That’s still not the biggest lie I believed. There were all sorts of smaller lies along the way to the whopper(s). Like, when he told me the paperwork was messed up so it would be easier if he just left my name off the deed to the new house, and we could get it put on at a later date. I did stave that one off by throwing a huge fit, not that it ended up mattering. The house ended up foreclosed on thanks to him. Hell, I think the whole setup to move to Virginia was a hybrid lie.
He started talking about wanting that particular plant shortly after his first affair with Harley began. He admitted a few months later, after being busted, that the plan had been to move closer to her. Oh, he dressed it up as moving closer to family, but we all know what he meant.
I don’t know, and I do not care, if the affair was going on the entire time, but I certainly feel like he set me up to move away from our life in Utah where the kids were happy and settled, and to move to Virginia to be closer to the whore. It was all a huge con. He felt so isolated out there in Utah. He wanted to be closer to family. Oh, it got even better because the whole need to be closer to family was for our kids. It was so important that they be around family and we couldn’t offer them that out in Utah. That was a pretty big lie- it had nothing to do with our kids and everything to do with him and what he wanted- but it wasn’t the whopper.
I think the whole reconciliation bit was probably a big fat lie, too, to get me to go where he wanted to go. Perhaps he was smart enough to realize I would never agree to move if we were in a state of chaos. Still not the whopper.
There was the lie I still don’t know why he told. In the beginning he said he had texted other women, plural. After I found the Facebook message to his nephew, telling him he was going to marry Harley one day, I sorrowfully said to him, “It was never women, was it? It was always only her.” He agreed that it had only been her, and that he was trying to protect her, to make it not seem so serious. I later found Anne so I know that women, plural, was correct. Unless, of course, he hooked up with her after Harley.
There were the lies told in reconciliation- stupid little timeline things. Who said I love you first? I don’t know. Did you tell her you loved her before you went out for your sister’s wedding? I don’t think so. Busted! See above regarding the FB message to his nephew. That happened before his sister’s wedding.
There was the lie that she had never meant anything to him, that she was a substitute for me. There was the lie that he knew he loved me when I confronted him in June, wanting him to go to marriage counseling. Really? Then why did you continue carrying on? <crickets> There was the lie that it was a midlife crisis, she was the worst mistake of his life, and he should have bought a motorcycle.
All those earlier lies? I think I could believe them not only because I wanted to believe that I wasn’t headed for divorce, but because I didn’t realize how incredibly devious he was. Even after his first affair with her was exposed I never pegged him as this much of a liar. I spent the first few weeks after he told me he had been “texting” other women believing that maybe what he meant was that he had been merely talking to other women, that he was such an upstanding, loyal, honest man that he would never cheat on me. He felt overwhelming guilt because he was confiding in others and he didn’t think that was right. Maybe it wasn’t so much that he was so incredibly devious as it was that I was incredibly naive. I bought them all. I explained them all away.
I even bought the lie about Anne. I immediately confronted him about her and his explanation sounded reasonable. This was a man who loved me after all. We were better than ever. We had gotten to the root of all of our marital problems and we had worked them out. I was texting. I was sending racy photos. I was putting out. I’m sure I was keeping up with the laundry and cleaning the house as well. I put the kids in second place so I could concentrate on him. He wouldn’t lie to me!
So when he explained that he had met her on Linked In, thinking she was a vendor, that seemed reasonable enough. He realized she wasn’t a vendor but he offered her help with her professional life. How sweet of him! Isn’t he just the best? Story twist! She turned psycho! She started stalking him. Better just delete her messages and forget all about her, Sam. She’s nuts.
I believed him. It never occurred to me that he could lie as easily as he could breathe. I thought that there was no way he could come up with all of that in a split second. In reality, he hadn’t. She had already forewarned him that she was going to contact me so he already concocted a cover story. Plus, we had reconciled. Why would he do this all over again?
No, I think the biggest lie was the chain of lies that happened when he started cheating with her again, all culminating in his claim that he suffered from PTSD.
Part 1 of the whopper lie I swallowed was the one I actually helped him create. When American Sniper came out I casually asked if maybe this was his real problem. No, his real problem was he had found my alternate Facebook page, thanks to Blockhead, and he felt he was losing control. But here was the easy out for him. PTSD! Excellent! That would be his excuse.
He was probably plotting his exit right then and there, along with help from Blockhead and Jezebel. I can claim PTSD! I’ll say I can’t function. I find it almost impossible to drive the 15 minutes to work. I can’t be out in public. I’ll cry and carry on constantly and then accuse her of not caring when she doesn’t live up to my unreasonable expectations. I’ll start to drink so that if the PTSD shit doesn’t pan out I’ve got yet another excuse. In short, I’ll be an absolute mess and fall apart. Maybe she’ll leave me. If she doesn’t I’ll have plenty of evidence to convince a judge I shouldn’t have to pay child support or alimony at the rate I would have to normally.
All in all it was simply a huge mindfuck. He could play the poor pitiful victim and I got to feel horrible and overwhelmed that all of this was happening. I felt guilty because I wasn’t more sympathetic. I felt guilty because I was angry over everything that was happening. He had moved us from our happy home to this place I had not yet adjusted to because he swore up and down that this move was what was going to make him happy. And now here he was falling apart. I danced harder and faster, trying to make things better for him. I put healing from his first affair into overdrive once I realized he knew about my Facebook page, and I again, felt guilty that I had caused him any pain. While he was busy dodging responsibility for everything I was taking responsibility for everything. It was my fault he went to the psych ward. It was my fault he was so sad. Dance, Sam, dance! Make those appointments. Go sit in that bedroom with him. Take him to the ER. Stand by his side. Make everything better for him! Bastard!
He was going to visit his mom in the hospital in May. As far as I can tell, at least from his court testimony (and let’s face it- he could have perjured himself on the witness stand), their little affair began again sometime in April or May. Wow- just like last time! He was wildly adamant that he not take a child along with him. He didn’t want them seeing him break down apparently if he got stressed out about the driving. But alas, he ended up not being able to make the drive. He called me but thanks to our phone service he couldn’t get through. He then sent me pictures of his tear stained face right before he turned around and headed back home.
I went out that night and switched our phone carrier so that I would never miss another important call like that from him. I signed a two year contract, only to find out a little over three months later that he was fucking his cousin.
In hindsight what I think really happened is that he lost his nerve for whatever reason. I don’t know why and I don’t care to explore the reasons. It’s not important to me.
But that does lead me to what I consider, if not the biggest whopper of a lie, certainly the most humiliating lie. In July shortly after the kids and I got back from Indiana and Utah we were going to leave again to go to Florida for a week. He had gone with us the year before and was supposed to go with us again. Wouldn’t you know though that he had to go on a business trip that weekend? Instead of going on vacation with us as a family he instead drove to Tennessee for a “business trip”. That wasn’t the best part.
He was so anxiety ridden about this drive. What if he couldn’t make it? What if he lost his nerve? Oh never fear! Your trusty therapist and I will coach you so that you get over your fear and anxiety and can make the drive. Yep, like I said- maybe not the biggest lie but certainly one of the most humiliating. To think that I sat there in that office telling him what a wonderful man he was, how he could do anything, how he needed to believe in himself… all the while he’s laughing his ass off at pathetic ol’ me and his stupid therapist.
Even before that I got the story of how he was sending his mom money to help with groceries because his niece and her boyfriend came down for dinner every night. They were so broke and so young with a baby already here and one on the way. What could he do? So don’t be alarmed if you see those wire transfers. That’s just me being a dutiful son. And by the way, that $500 wire I sent was so that they could fix the van so they could trade it in for their new ride. If it didn’t run they couldn’t trade it in so again, what could I do?
I did pause a moment about that one. It must have been in early July when he told me this because I had just been to his parents’ house and ridden in the new van. She never mentioned him sending them money to fix the old van in order to trade it in. Not completely out of the realm of possibility, I suppose, but I did find it curious. I wonder what would have happened if I had mentioned that to her in a phone call. Hey, why didn’t you tell me CF had sent you $500?
On the heels of coaching my lying, cheating husband so that he could meet up with his whore cousin, he had to dig the knife just a little bit deeper. His “business trip” lasted an extra day, and then because he was so close to his mom’s house he was going to go see her that weekend. It would be a shame if he was that close and didn’t visit. Was that okay?
Naturally I was understanding. “It’s your mom! Of course it’s okay.” But looking back on it he was no closer to his mom’s house there than he was when he was in Virginia. And while he may have seen his mom, especially at the impromptu family reunion, he spent the weekend at the whore’s house, fucking her.
There was the $172 charge at Walmart in Whore Town before he was supposed to be visiting with his mom. I asked him if he was already there and he insisted he was not. He was still in Tennessee. When asked why there was a charge in Whore Town he conveniently explained it away by telling me he had given his card to his mom so she could buy a new tire. For the new van. And she had made that purchase in not-Whore Town so he didn’t know why it was showing Whore Town. I later found out he had bought the whore a lawn mower. $172 tire, my ass!
After his self-affirming trip which proved he could drive and be out in public he passed along a few other tasty tidbits- he was going to go to Blockhead’s one weekend. It was only fair because the last time Blockhead had driven all the way to Virginia so next time it was his turn. And the two of them were going to go to their West Point class reunion. No wives, of course. Just them. Lies. “Visiting Blockhead” was code for spending the weekend fucking the whore, and I have no doubt he took Harley with him to his reunion.
There was the funeral for the cousin he hadn’t laid eyes on in years but it was extremely important that he go. And no, he would not bring either of the kids, despite Rock Star wanting to go so she could see her granny. A funeral is no place for kids! Apparently, it is the place to debut your whore and let everyone know you’re cheating on your wife.
Oh, how could I forget all the lies about the damn funeral itself? I think the coaching for the drive to meet up with his mistress and the whole funeral fiasco are tied for first place when it comes to whopper lies.
First, the funeral was supposed to occur on Friday so he was going to drive down on Thursday, attend the funeral on Friday, and then drive back after it was over. On Friday I’m texting him, asking him if he’s on his way home. Story twist! In an amazing coincidence the funeral was moved to Saturday! Can you believe it? Yeah, I shouldn’t have either. He was good, though. He swore up and down that he was told it was on Friday.
Naturally, since it’s occurring on Saturday it only makes sense now to spend the rest of the weekend there, visiting with dear old Mom. How can you argue with that? What kind of a monster would be mad because a loving son is spending time with his beloved mommy? Then when called around 3 pm on Sunday, and asked if he was on his way home or about to start out, he tells me he’s going to wait until 8 because he wants to “challenge himself” and see if he can make the drive in the dark. What can I say, dear readers? I was an idiot. I kept telling myself there was no way he would possibly cheat on me again. We had reconciled! We had moved 2000 miles across the country for him! We had bought a new house, new furniture! We had put our kids into new schools! He had just bought me a new car! We had just put in a $57,000 pool! Who in their right mind plots to leave during all of this? Obvious answer now: A lying, cheating cousinfucker, that’s who.
It gets better. Around 11 pm he calls or texts (I forget which now) that he had put the keys to his mom’s van in his briefcase and only noticed it once he had been on the road for about three hours. He’s going to have to turn around and give those to her so he’ll come home tomorrow. Strangely, he didn’t make it a priority to get up early in the morning and head straight home. This was a simple six hour trip home. Had he left around 7 or 8 he would have been home around 1 or 2. He didn’t make it home until after 5 which means he didn’t leave until 11. In hindsight I suppose I should be surprised he didn’t wheel on in around 10 or 11 that night. God knows I was swallowing his lies like candy so I’m sure he could have figured something out to explain why he didn’t get in his damn car until 6 pm or so.
Do you want to hear something really sad and pathetic? On his way home, as he was on the exit ramp to our town, he rear ended a tractor trailer. He assured me he was fine (I found out after the fact) and I recall my overwhelming thought being, “Oh no! This is going to derail his progress. He’s not going to want to drive anymore.”
Yes, there I was, so worried that the poor baby was going to be traumatized after his accident. I had been feeling hopeful with all this recent “progress” and thought that maybe we would finally be able to go places- visit some wineries, check out Gettysburg, go to DC… Now we were probably starting all over at square one. Rats! I shouldn’t have worried though. He was able to make that trip every single weekend for the next six months.
As it turns out those were the last of the lies he could tell me and I would believe. A few hours after he got back home I received the message from The Saint, letting me know he had been spending his weekends with Harley.
Oh, he continued to lie: He was going to spend the weekend with Blockhead. “Oops, did I not tell you that? I thought I did,” he said when he snuck out while I was running errands.
“Send me naked pictures!” he tells me, probably with her right there by his side.
When I accidentally made his debit card inactive he was throwing a fit until I offered to drive to Blockhead’s house and give him the new card. “Oh it’s okay, baby. I’ve got my American Express and some cash. Don’t worry about.”
I should have insisted. At that point I knew where he was. I’d had his ass followed.
He lies even today. He’ll never stop. When it comes to him I follow that old adage: If his lips are moving, he’s lying.