I cheated on my husband at my bachelorette party. To date this was the biggest mistake of my life. I felt anxious before my girlfriends and I had even arrived at the bar. After we sat down, I didn’t sip my drink—I gulped down cocktail after cocktail to take the edge off my uneasiness which was growing every second. My friend Tina said, “Last night out before you’re Mrs.____!” Tina knew me as a party girl. I ordered another drink. I switched from strawberry daiquiri to vodka. She winked and told the bartender to keep ‘em coming. “We’re just getting started!”
My friends cheering around me and my desperation to get bombed made it look like I was in the mood to bask in the big party. But I wasn’t getting sloshed to celebrate my inevitable marriage—instead, I was drinking to escape the committee in my head that warned: “Ann! You’re not ready to commit!”
Cold Feet
An hour into the drinking fest, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. My legs wobbled underneath me when I stood up. In the quiet bathroom stall, I took my time. I just needed to be alone. I didn’t understand why, but I felt overwhelmed by a persuasive mix of anger and grief.
My friends were too rowdy with happiness, too excited on my behalf. Deep down, I felt jealous of their carefree, single lives. Why were they so eager to celebrate the end of my freedom? I wanted nothing more than to go to bed in a drunken stupor, away from their banter and laughter and high hopes for my future. Instead, I hung out by the hand dryer, delaying my return to the bar. I took deep breaths to try to ease the tightness in my chest. What was wrong with me? Why wasn’t I happy? I felt certain I loved Jay my husband-to-be, and at the same time there was a part of me that resented him for wanting to tie me down.
After our wedding, we planned to move back to his hometown. I pictured myself, decade after decade, supporting his hobbies, prioritizing his career, having sex the way he wanted it. Had my future been decided? Would that be my life? Jay wasn’t a selfish man — I was a round-the-clock people-pleaser since childhood, I’d never learned to ask him for what I wanted. (Unlike him, I didn’t even know what I wanted!) But I understood that unless I got the hang of expressing my needs soon, we’d run into very serious problems.
An Awful, Drunken Mistake!
I’d started making my way back to the bar when a dark-haired stranger approached me. He was clean-shaven, his shirt was crisply ironed, and he smelled … good. “Have I seen you somewhere before?” He asked. I knew he hadn’t. It was a pick-up line. I felt a wave of anger and grief wash over me again. But I wasn’t angry at the stranger, whose interest was mildly flattering. I was angry at myself, at Jay, and at my oblivious friends who couldn’t see I wasn’t ready for marriage. “Have I seen you somewhere before?” the stranger repeated. “Yes,” I replied, unnsteady on my feet. Then, in a senseless moment of drunken self-sabotage, I leaned forward and kissed him. We ended up back in the grimy bathroom stall. He unzipped the back of my dress while I unbuttoned his jeans. The sex was soulless and unsatisfying, and it was over within a few minutes.
I Went Through with the Wedding. Here’s Why
I walked down the aisle on my wedding day feeling sick to my stomach. I knew that with every step I took, time was running out. I had to save my fiancé from me before it was too late. Halfway down the aisle, I wanted to turn around and run. I wanted to sob and scream, to crush the white roses in my bouquet, to tear up the tulle skirt of my wedding dress. My heart blazing with shame. My conscience shrieked: “Abort!” But everyone’s eyes were on me. I couldn’t do it.
Then I reached the altar and looked up at my husband-to-be, who had no idea how I’d betrayed him. I saw his eyes shining with pride and admiration where there should have been disgust. I’d never thought of myself as someone who was big on strength, resolve or courage, but at that moment, every trace of those qualities abandoned me. As he took my trembling hands in his, I convinced myself I had a duty to protect him from the trauma of learning what I’d done. I didn’t deserve to marry Jay, but neither did he deserve to have his heart broken.
You’ll destroy him if you tell the truth, Ann. That’s how I justified my silence. Why burden a good man with so much pain? So I vowed to be faithful to him, forsaking all others. My voice shook but gave nothing away emotionally. I sobbed when we shared our first kiss as husband and wife. “I’m crying happy tears!” I insisted when he cradled my face. He trusted me, so he believed that lie—just as he believed all the other lies that would come after.
At the reception, I drank too much Chardonnay and ended up dry-heaving over the toilet, head spinning. “What’s the matter?” My best friend and bridesmaid, Tina, knelt beside me, rubbing my back. “I’m hormonal.” I rattled off every excuse I could think of. “Getting married is one big emotional whirlwind. I’m not good with crowds and being in the limelight is f*cking intense.” All those statements were accurate to an extent. But the real reason for my anguish? I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone, not even Tina. Instead, I reassured her that nothing was wrong and forced a smile for the rest of the night.
How My Husband Found Out
Ultimately, my best friend Tina plucked the truth out of me a couple years later. She’d noticed I had been growing more and more unhappy. One Saturday evening, she invited me out for dinner. I showed up with plenty to drink, as usual, and proceeded to drown my sorrows. A few hours later, I woke up on the couch wearing her nightgown. She’d showered and changed me after I got blackout drunk and threw up all over myself. “I can tell you’re in pain, Ann.” She hugged me as I cried into her shoulder. “I know you! I see the signs. You’re smoking a lot more than you used to, you eat way more takeout and these days, you never come to any a social events without drinking yourself stupid. What the hell is going on, girl? What’s wrong?”
Under her expectant gaze, my defenses broke down. I was so tired of suffering. I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed someone to hear me out, to absolve me. I begged Tina not to hate me, I admitted what had happened at the bachelorette party. I explained how, through two years of marriage, I’d continued keeping the truth from Jay. Her body froze. She pulled away from me. Her next words made my blood run cold. “Ann, Either you tell him, or I will.” “What?” I couldn’t breathe. I’d never felt so close to a panic attack. “But he’s innocent, Tina! He doesn’t deserve to go through hell because of me. I don’t want to ruin his life because of my stupid mistak
“You think you’re doing him a favor by lying? Are you delusional? You’re keeping the truth from him. That’s wrong! You’re manipulating him into believing he lives in a different reality.” Bawling, I buried my head in my hands. Tina grabbed me by the shoulders and she shook me. “Listen, Ann! You don’t want to hurt him. I get it. But the fact that you cheated on him shows you guys have problems. If you refuse to be honest, you have no hope in hell of repairing your marriage.” She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Like I said. Either you tell him, or I will.”
I wish I could say I had the guts to fix my own marriage. But I couldn’t bear the thought of facing Jay. So I chose the cowardly option—like I’d done for the past two years. “You tell him,” “Do I have to, I whimpered.” Tina shook her head and picked up my cellphone.
What I Learned
A week after Tina’s phone call, Jay filed for divorce. I do not blame him in the slightest. I agreed to divorce him, feeling a mixture of devastation and relief. It’s now been several years since I came clean to Tina, and I’ve come to believe she was right-on to push for honesty.
I thought I was protecting Jay by keeping my transgression a secret. In reality, I was robbing him of the right to choose whether he wanted to be with me.
Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d confessed that I cheated earlier. Would Jay have forgiven me? Would he/we have worked through our relationship issues? Maybe, but it’s pointless speculation about a hypothetical situation. By lying throughout our brief marriage, I irreversibly damaged his trust in me.
Now, I’m in therapy, and I expect I will be until I sort this out within myself. I’m working on reducing my alcohol consumption, as I drink way too much to self-medicate. I’ve also started addressing my people-pleasing issues. I struggle to identify and express my own wishes in relationships. I’ve realized I need to get better at asking for what I want, otherwise, I end up feeling resentful.
At the bachelorette party, my resentment manifested as cheating. I wanted to regain a sense of control in my relationship with Jay, and I went about it in the most dysfunctional and immature way possible. So if I’ve learned anything from my mistake, it’s the importance of not burying my feelings. Repressed feelings can burst out of unexpectedly in the form of hurtful, thoughtless, selfish actions. Jay didn’t need me to cheat; he needed me to face him and have an honest conversation. Sometimes the most loving thing you can do is speak up and say how you feel.
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