Cheating Wife’s Secret Diary Exposes Her Shocking Secret!

Marcy, my wife of 19 years, lost her father two years ago. It wasn’t unexpected as he’d battled heart problems well into his 70s. Marcy was an unplanned child who arrived as her parents turned 40. A month ago, we moved her mother into an assisted living place. Going from a five- bedroomedroom house to a very small one-bedroom prison meant boxes and boxes of stuff needed to disappear.

Convincing Helga, Marcy’s mother, to do an estate sale was difficult. She wanted to keep everything. Marcy and her elder siblings, three brothers and two sisters, all took their share of boxes. Much of what didn’t sell at the estate sale was donated to the Humane Society thrift store. All of this activity took its toll on Marcy and most definitely our love life.

I doubt we’ve had intimacy more than once a month since her father died. I say intimacy, not love, as Marcy has become more like an inflatable doll than a loving wife. Apparently, I just don’t do it for her anymore. Since Marcy is my first and only wife, I had no expectations or knowledge of what to expect in a marriage.

We did the usual things: dating, engagement, marriage, a child, then another, and now we are into the parent caretaking phase. My folks are doing well and I hope it stays that way for a while. I can’t say that I’m that outgoing loveydovey kind of guy. Then again, neither is Marcy. She’s gone through life with a chip on her shoulder.

Helga and myself at different times have suggested counseling for her. Not wanting my head handed back to me again, I’ve let it slide. I’ve got two great kids. We did the family tree genetic thing a few years back. After we confirmed our heritage, we took a very special vacation to England and Ireland to visit the graves of some of our earliest known relatives.

Henrietta, my brainiac high school senior, is headed off to Stanford next fall. Her younger brother, Robbie, is a moderately talented athlete. He’s smart enough to realize that his athletic career is likely to end when his high school days are over. He’s a junior but taking some college prep courses. My name is Levi Benigan and I will turn 44 next month.

I don’t know exactly what I’m going to do, but I am going to do something. I have to. We live in one of those vintage homes made over a 100red years ago. The lowest level, kind of like a walkout basement. Comes complete with a kitchenet and its own entry door. You can turn it into a rental if you lock the stairwell door in the kitchen.

It has sat unused since we moved in 15 years ago. I pay to have it cleaned once a year. You can’t let those cobwebs multiply. The main level has four bedrooms. The upper level has a single bedroom and a small bathroom along with a lot of open space. Robbie loves it up there. Above the second level is a rather spacious attic.

I’ve used that steep wooden drop- down ladder at least 50 times. That’s the only way you can get into the attic. It’s a real workout taking things up or down. Take these up to the attic, ordered Marcy. She was bossing me around, trying to find a spot for the dozens of boxes she’d claimed from her mother’s belongings. Shouldn’t you tape them up a little better? If we’re going to put them in timeout, I asked as if I was a clueless 8-year-old, Marcy shot back.

They’ll be fine. I’d have died a dumb, happy bloke if I’d done what she refused to do. The first few boxes climbed the stairs with me without any problems. Just after I stepped off the ladder into the attic, the fateful box emptied its contents. Thinking that a few choice words would solve something, I released my anger.

Nothing changed. I started stacking the contents of the broken box, some books, some journals, and a few pictures. The journals, five of them, were all handwritten. It wasn’t until I found the fifth one that I realized what they were. These were the diaries of Helga. Each journal covered at least a dozen years.

I sat quietly and read a few pages. How is it that reading someone else’s deep, dark secrets is so spellbinding? I fell into the trap. I couldn’t get enough. Whenever Marcy would go off shopping or whatever she was into, I’d climb into the attic and read. My fascination turned into heartbreak when I found the entries for the week of our marriage.

It read, “Marcy isn’t excited, but I am. Levi is a catch, but she is still under the illusion that Oscar will change his mind. He’s been gone for 2 years, and her biological clock is ticking. I don’t think she could have chosen a better man. I just wish she loved him.” I read it so many times that I knew every word by heart. My marriage was a sham from the beginning.

Driving around the lakes and mountains helped me pass the time. In my hurry to flee the house, I’d left my phone on the counter. Where in the hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you. Yeah, I bet you have, I replied. What? What did you just say? Come back here. I locked myself in the bathroom and sat in the shower until the hot water turned cold.

Marcy pounded on the door a few times. When I finally came out, she was sitting on the bed waiting for me. “Start talking now,” she ordered. “I’m tired. Good night,” I answered. “What’s wrong?” “Why are you acting so strange?” she asked. I ignored her, closed my eyes, and listened to her pester me for the next 10 minutes. She gave up. I didn’t have a clue what time it was.

When I woke up at 3:00 a.m., Marcy was in bed next to me. I snuck into the attic and took the journals. I left my phone on the counter, this time on purpose. Grabbing an extra-l large cup of coffee and a cherry Danish from the allnight truck stop, I headed back into the mountains and parked by the lake.

The overhead light in my car was my reading lamp until dawn. Finding all of the entries that mentioned me was my mission. Then I discovered these two writings. Marcy is dating a gentleman named Levi. She seems to like him. Marcy says Levi proposed. She said yes, but is now regretting it. What if Oscar wants her? I told her to grow up.

Then the entry a week before our wedding. I drank too much coffee, so I went and did a perk test. This was emotionally draining. My search lasted several more perk tests. For the most part, all of the entries that mentioned me were about highlights in our family’s life. Things like accomplishments, awards, and things that her grandkids had done.

I’d been at it for 10 hours and was getting hungry. Heading back home, I did the drive-thru thing and scarfed down a few sandwiches. I parked in a shopping center and browsed through the last journal. Marcy says Oscar contacted her today through Facebook. She’s in seventh heaven. She still doesn’t love Levi. I looked at the date and then tried to remember anything. I drew a blank.

I got a better clue when I read the entry for a week later. Marcy met Oscar for lunch. She was crying when she called. He’s happily married and turned down her offer for a steamy afternoon of love. I told her she was crazy for doing either of those things. A married woman doesn’t go out for lunch and she never offers her body to another man. We had a terrible fight.

She might never talk to me again. It triggered my memory. I came home from work that night and was rad over the coals for some really minor stuff. Marcy was extremely difficult to deal with for almost a week. This one hurt more than the one before our marriage. When this entry was written, we’d been married for 16 years, had two great kids, and she’d never fallen in love with me.

My chest hurt a lot. It was all I could do to breathe normally. In the journals, it was over a month later before Marcy was mentioned again. They had mended fences. Neither I nor Oscar were mentioned again until last summer. The diary said, “Marcy wants Levi to go on vacation to Miami.

She let it slip that Oscar lived in a suburb and maybe she’d sneak away for lunch with him. It came flooding back. After Marcy went shopping while we were vacationing in Miami, she was an angry woman again. My bet is that Oscar is a fine gentleman and turned down her advances. What if she did intimacy with him, but he still wouldn’t leave his wife? That was a viable scenario, too.

Did it matter at this point? I don’t know. My head is spinning. That was it for the journals. Now, what do I do with my kids? They are in high school and both are driving. Do I keep this sham of a marriage going? Marcy was waiting for me. This time it was a silent glare that greeted me.

There was fire in her eyes, but she held her tongue. “Well,” she asked impatiently. “How are the kids?” I replied, trying to avoid the tension. “Talk to me. What’s wrong with you?” she pressed, her voice full of frustration. “Are the kids home? I need to talk to them,” I said, hoping to shift the focus. “Damn it, talk to me,” she yelled.

“Not yet,” I answered, feeling overwhelmed. The kids weren’t home yet, so I went through the same routine as the night before, taking another shower to calm down. Marcy finally left me alone. I left the house before dawn, leaving notes on each of the kids’ cars asking them to call me. 10 minutes after I left, my phone rang. It was Marcy.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” she asked. “The moon is still up,” I replied, trying to keep my cool. “What does that have to do with anything?” she responded confused. “I think I need an oil change,” I answered, trying to avoid the conversation. Tell me what’s going on,” she pressed. I finally broke down.

I had never been this angry before. “Settle down. Maybe Oscar will change his mind.” I snapped back. After a few seconds of silence, I hung up. ignoring the next few calls. Marcy sent a text. “Please come home,” Marcy texted. I replied, “Please move my stuff or your stuff to the extra bedroom. We can work through this, she texted back.

Why would I want to? I responded. Please come home, she sent again, but I didn’t answer. When Henrietta called, I set up a meeting for after school. Robbie was also able to make that meeting. What’s going on, Dad? Mom says you’ve been acting strange, Henrietta asked. I’m leaving her. I just need to know how to stay in your lives.

I replied. Henrietta gasped. Oh my god, Dad. What happened? Let’s just say I’m not the problem. Can we leave it at that? I said. Henrietta refused. No, what did she do? Taking a deep breath. It’s not what she did as much as what she didn’t do. Wait, that’s not completely true either. It’s complex.

What she never did was fall in love with me. I’ve learned quite recently that all I meant to her was someone to give her a family. She still has strong feelings for the man she wished she’d married. He dumped her. Why? I don’t know. They broke up about 2 years before we got married. Give me a minute. This was hard but strangely uplifting.

Henrietta grabbed one of my hands. Robbie did the same with the other. 3 years ago, she met him for lunch and offered him love. Apparently, he turned her down. That cheating woman, Henrietta exclaimed. Henrietta, shush. You’re causing a scene, I replied. In a quieter voice, she repeated. That cheating woman. We all giggled.

Our vacation to Miami last summer was set up by her so she could have another shot at her heartthrob. I continued quietly again. She answered, “What a shame.” Robbie rightfully wanted proof. How do you know this now and not 3 days ago? Your grandmother Helga kept diaries. While putting boxes into the attic, they spilled out.

Stay right here and I’ll grab them. I retrieved the journals whose pages I had paperclipipped, allowing them time to read only those entries. Both had tears in their eyes. Henrietta sighed. I’m so sorry, Daddy. Don’t be. It isn’t anything you did. You have nothing to be sorry for or ashamed of, I replied. Robbie wondered. What are you going to do? I don’t know.

I really don’t. I told her to move her stuff or mine into one of the unused bedrooms. The only thing I know for sure is that I won’t be sleeping in the same bed as her until I can come to grips with this. Henrietta wasn’t having it. Screw her. I say we move all of her stuff down to the dungeon and lock the door in the kitchen.

She’d still be living under our roof, but we’d never have to see her. Robbie answered, “Damn straight. Come on. We can get it done this evening.” The kids bolted and both beat me home by a few minutes. I heard the ruckus before I entered the house. Put those down. What are you doing? Talk to me. Henrietta, I’m your mother and I demand that you stop right now.

Robbie, you too. What’s going on? Down the stairs to the lowest level they went. Dungeon. I like that description. Levi, what’s going on? Marcy questioned. I ignored her and grabbed an armful of clothes. My progress was slowed down when Marcy latched onto my arm. Levi, damn it, talk to me, Marcy pleaded. Henrietta and Robbie were back. Hi, Dad.

I’ll take those from you. Keep her out of our way. You heard them, Marcy. Let’s go into the kitchen. What did you tell them? Marcy asked. The truth as I know it. They no longer want to live with you. Since you’re entitled to live under this roof, your new quarters are downstairs.

If you need something, slip a note under the door. We’ll set it on the top step for you. Why? Why are you doing this? Marcy questioned. So you can pine for Oscar without having to deal with those that you don’t love? I answered rudely. What are you talking about? I love you. I love the kids. Marcy pleaded. Can you honestly say that you ever gave me all of your love unconditionally? I asked.

At least she had a tiny conscience. She was struggling with a response. I think so, she replied, her voice weak. I don’t, I said. You love that I filled a need for you, but your heart has never truly been mine. It has, she responded, confused. Where is this coming from? Tell me, I pressed. Since we got engaged, how many times have you met with Oscar without me being there? Tears slowly started to fall down her face.

A few, I guess, she said quietly. Well, take this legal pad and write me a confession. Not knowing what I already know, this should make for an interesting exercise. Now stay out of our way until you are removed from our lives. Marcy was hugging herself as the tears streamed down her face. The locksmith replaced the upper level locks.

Marcy’s keys now only worked on her door. Rather than risking an accident, Henrietta and Robbie each grabbed an arm and lifted Marcy a few inches off the floor. Depositing her on the front lawn was a little humiliating. Henrietta dished it out. There you go, Mom. We’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t bring your dates home, but with your track record, who knows what you’re capable of.

Marcy was a defeated woman. She sank to her knees and hugged herself tightly while fighting back the tears. I took Henrietta and Robbie out for a late night snack. Thank you both. I think she got the message. Robbie jumped in. I know she got the message. What’s next, Dad? As I said earlier, I just don’t know.

Her heart never belonged to me. Mine always belonged to her. I think I’ll get some help from a shrink to walk me through this. For the time being, try not to let this affect your grades. We’ll probably be eating out a lot since you don’t want me fixing meals. All three of us had muted our phones. We got quite a chuckle at the number of calls and texts Marcy had sent each of us.

Returning home, I found a note under the dungeon door. Marcy needed a coffee pot, cups, and her beloved hazelnut blend. It was signed with a very large I love you. I set the coffee things on the top step. It was quiet down below. Visions of Marcy and shackles and chains brought a smile to my face.

It was probably my imagination, but it seemed like there was an echo in the bedroom. Around midnight, having had no luck with that sleep thing, I sent out emails to several counselors. Online banking helped set my mind at ease. We keep more than we should in checking. So, I moved what I felt was the excess into savings. After the money was moved, I put a hold on the savings account.

Any attempt to take the money and run was now going to be slowed, if not stopped. I must have fallen asleep because my alarm woke me. Work was a struggle, but I trudged my way through the day. Marcy was relentless in wanting to meet and talk again. Lunchtime was spent talking with the therapists who were available. I set up a 6:00 p.m. with one and an 8:00 p.m.

appointment with the other. Won’t be back until late. Feed yourselves. Love you was the text sent to Henrietta and Robbie. Don’t forget I have a game tomorrow. You will be there, came back from Robbie. Yes, I will. I texted her back. The first therapist, a woman my mother’s age, listened, said little, and then suggested I meet with her twice weekly.

This wasn’t what I was expecting. The second therapist was also a woman likely my age, but she was a keeper. Christina peppered me with questions for each of my disclosures. It was after 10 p.m. when her session ended. “When would you like to meet again?” she asked. “How about tomorrow?” I replied. “Sorry, can’t do tomorrow. How about weekends?” she suggested.

“I can do weekends. Just let me know when and where and I’ll be there.” “Okay, let’s meet at 8:00 a.m. on Saturday. I’ll have coffee unless you’re one of those decaf people. Then you’ll have to bring your own,” she said with a chuckle. This was more like it. “Was I closer to knowing what I was going to do?” “Nope.

What I did know was that my heart was broken. I wanted to be loved, and knowing that I wasn’t was killing me.” The note from the dungeon was simple. I do love you, and we need to talk. I turned it over and wrote on the back. If you couldn’t elevate me to number one after almost 20 years, you never will. How’s that confession going? Seems to me I should have received it by now.

My meeting with Christina on Saturday lasted 3 hours. I was spent. She was ruthless and wouldn’t let me hem and haul when I didn’t like the question. She surprised me at the end. I need to meet one-on-one with your kids. Getting them involved might not have been the best decision you’ve ever made. I handed Christina my phone and showed her the speed dials for each.

After using the restroom and getting a drink from the vending machine, Christina motioned me back into her office. I’m meeting with Henrietta tomorrow at 8:00 a.m. and Robbie an hour later. Can you do 10:00 a.m. tomorrow? If you say so. Don’t you have a life? I asked. I put the extra hours in when my guy is on the road, she answered.

The sessions with Henrietta and Robbie appeared to go well. Both gave me big hugs when their sessions were over. I only stayed an hour on Sunday. Christina’s husband was due back later in the day. After a combined 6 hours with Christina, I understood that my bruised ego would heal. It will take time, but try to postpone doing anything until I can think rationally.

Most likely because of their therapy session, the kids invited Marcy upstairs for dinner. Marcy was under strict orders to not talk about the past. She was bursting at the seams, wanting to address the problem, but managed to hold it together. Both Henrietta and Robbie did an excellent job of bringing Marcy up to speed on what had transpired since her banishment.

Their hugs and kisses with Marcy were awkward at best. Marcy wanted to give them, but the kids weren’t very receptive. I waved off her attempt to do the same with me. Before heading back to the dungeon, she asked, “Levi, would you come down so we can talk?” I’d love to after I’ve read your confession. Good night, Marcy. My next session with Christina was Wednesday night.

Levi, I think it would help if you had a joint session with Marcy. Thoughts? she asked. I’ve asked her to write a confession. She has no idea how I found out what I found out. If she isn’t honest about what I already know, I have no reason to ever sit down with her face to face. Why should I listen to a liar? What would be the point? When did you ask her to do that? She asked. The day I told my kids.

So that makes it a week ago. Makes me believe I’ve struck an iceberg. What I see on the surface pales in comparison with what might be lurking below the surface. It certainly cries out for a rational explanation. At this point, I agree. Let’s wait and see until the confession arrives, she answered. Life went on.

I’d see Marcy at Robbie’s games and occasionally coming and going. No confession was ever delivered. 2 months after separating, I broached the subject with Christina. I think I need to file for divorce. Marcy has something to hide, so why should I wait any longer? Agreed, Christina replied. 4 hours after Marcy was served, I received her confession.

It was six pages long. Oscar was Marcy’s college sweetheart. He proposed when she was a junior. She turned him down, claiming she wasn’t ready. After graduating, Oscar was no longer interested in her. Being rejected was something Marcy couldn’t accept. She pursued him relentlessly. Oscar took an overseas job which ended her chances.

I came along soon thereafter. Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Marcy’s dates were slightly off when compared to Helga’s journal entries, but the indiscretions matched the journals. Sadly, Marcy had never quit trying to convert Oscar to her way of thinking. From before I proposed to a week before she was booted to the dungeon, she thought Oscar would change his mind.

Marcy claimed Oscar had never taken her to bed ever since she refused his marriage proposal. She had met with him 15 times. Most were lunches, but there were a few dinners in there, too. The occurrences were mostly early in our marriage. Oscar then ignored her for over 8 years. Why he reached out to her on Facebook wasn’t revealed.

Several times a year, Marcy would call or email him. He would rarely respond. The ending just tied my stomach into knots. I was a fool. He wasn’t interested in me, but I thought I could change his mind. Being forced apart from you has been the toughest thing I’ve ever had to deal with. I’ve been seeing a counselor.

She would love to have a session with you and me together. Can we save this marriage? I hope so. I do love you. My next session with Christina was spirited. I vented. I cried. I listened. Why should I even try to save this marriage? She’s a fraud. I’ve been used for over 19 years. I said, “At the very least, you need closure.

You think she can never truly forsake all others. But maybe it’s worth hearing her out.” “Are you in a rush to get divorced?” she asked. “Not really. I just want to stop feeling like I’m on this emotional roller coaster,” I replied. I think you’re scared of forgiving her and that’s what’s holding you back. She said she doesn’t deserve my love.

It was never enough before. So why should I believe it is now? I responded. That’s why you’re going to sit through two joint sessions. We don’t know everything yet, do we? She suggested. I agreed to attend a joint session with Marcy’s counselor and a week later we’d meet with Christina. Throughout all of this turmoil, Henrietta and Robbie were very supportive.

Marcy tried using them to send messages. They were both smart enough to shut her down. There was a meek knock on the dungeon door. A small note card slid under the door. The note read, “You said we could talk if I confessed. When and where would you like to do that?” Damn it. I did say that, didn’t I? Might as well get it over. I unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Does now work?” I asked. Marcy had that about to cry look to her. “Yes, thank you,” she replied. “Shouldn’t we wait to do this in front of the therapists?” I asked. “Yes and no. I don’t want a divorce. I know I screwed up, but I never physically cheated on you. That has to count for something,” she pleaded.

“Isn’t it true that you offered Oscar intimacy?” I asked, dropping her head, she answered a weakly, “Yes, that’s as bad as it gets. Saying it never happened could just be you trying to spin it. I really can’t see my way around your actions. Let’s save this for the therapists,” I roared. “All right, I do love you. I know you hate me right now, but I’ll be here when that passes,” Marcy replied.

I tried to remain emotionless, although I wanted to scream at Marcy until she hurt as much as I did. When I pointed to the dungeon door, she left quietly. A minute later, another short note slid under the door. The note read, “I love you more than you hate me. I plan on winning you back.” The calendar wasn’t my friend.

Every day those joint sessions got closer and closer. Was I really afraid that I’d take Marcy back? The morning of the session with Marcy’s therapist, I was calm. I realized that I did love Marcy, but no longer as a wife. She was like that co-worker that you’ve always worked side by side with. My ego wasn’t damaged beyond repair, but the only way I’d reclaim it would be by finding someone new.

I opened dating accounts on every well-known website. Since I didn’t have a collection of pictures of me, I took several selfies. Rather than making it look like they were all done at once, I changed shirts and pants twice. One was with a beer and another with a glass of wine. Rather than start my online life with a lie, I actually told truthful things about myself.

I even admitted that my divorce was in progress and the anticipated completion date. By the time I made it into my office, my email account set up specifically for this adventure had over 20 unread messages. About half of them were bots or advertising, but the rest were worth responding to. Over lunch, I did just that.

I was in really good spirits when I entered Marcy’s therapist’s office. Marcy greeted me with a warm smile, but I made sure not to make physical contact. You seem happy tonight, she said. I am, but not because of this, I replied. Care to share why? She asked. Not really. Is she usually late like this? I asked, changing the subject.

No, this is the first time she hasn’t been waiting for me, she answered. I picked up a magazine and started flipping through the ads. After a few minutes, Elsie, a kind, older woman, walked in. It took a little while before it was my turn to speak. “What do you want from this session, Levi?” she asked. “You want to know what I want out of this session?” “Nothing. I’ve made up my mind.

Marcy had teen years to fall in love with me. Even living side by side all of those years, it didn’t happen. Oh, sure, she loves me like a brother. But I wanted a wife who couldn’t imagine a life without me. That was never Marcy. And I won’t waste another day wondering if that’s changed. Do I love her? Sure.

But she had her chance. It’s time for me to give someone else a chance. Maybe it won’t happen. But I’ve started looking and have several dates lined up. Maybe in a year or two, Marcy will start to look better. But right now, I doubt it. It was not my intent to make Marcy cry, but she did. Elsie tried. That’s it. You’re not willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Have you figured out why I was never enough for her? She certainly hasn’t told me, and at this point, it doesn’t matter. Her actions speak much louder than anything she could possibly say. I hope she continues to see you, Elsie, as she is one messed up lady. Levi, there’s no reason to resort to such crude language.

Marcy, tell Levi what you told me. Elsie answered, wiping tears away. Levi, I never got over Oscar dumping me. Yes, it did interfere with my no make it our life, but I love you more than I ever loved Oscar. I’m going to be devastated if we end up divorced. Marcy, I wish you the best, but I have to see if I feel a different bond with another woman, one that you never felt with me.

Maybe I will, but then again, maybe I won’t. What I do know is that I have to try. The hour took forever, but I was calm throughout. We left agreeing that our next meeting would be with Christina. The following day, I let Christina know what had transpired. I also went out to dinner with my first website match. What an eyeopener. And not in a good way.

This might take a lot longer than I thought. When we sat down with Christina, I was very upbeat. I was also a jerk. Levi, you’re a little arrogant tonight. That’s not helping. Christina admonished me. I know how we should spend this hour. I have no desire to get back together with Marcy. So maybe we can help her refine her seduction techniques.

Oscar must have turned her down due to some flaws in her approach, I roared. There was a lot of name calling and cursing from Marcy. All of it was deserved. So what? I’d answered the age-old question. Am I better off with her or without her? When you realized that your partner simply settled for you, it wasn’t that tough of a decision.

Even with court-ordered counseling, the divorce was granted 6 months later. I didn’t want to disrupt the kids’ lives any more than this had already done. So Marcy continued to live in the dungeon until both graduated high school. At that point, we put the house up for sale. I told Marcy if she wanted Helga’s stuff out of the attic, she could get it herself.

I left the diaries open to the damning pages on top of that broken box. Every once in a while, I’ll date a woman a second or third time, but as of yet, I’d rather donate my time where wanted. Helping others seems to be a good way to help yourself. There’s one lady there who seems to want to flirt, but then withdraws quickly.

I’m guessing someone hurt her more than I’d been hurt. Through the kids, Marcy wants me to know that she’s not dating. Not sure if that will ever matter to me.