I found out about my husband's affair one day after a long business trip.
After 13 years together, he was leaving for a woman he met in a bar and with whom he had been having an affair for nearly six months. Once I knew what I was looking for, I could easily find pictures of them together on Facebook.
He blames me for not being able to have a normal Dutch life. I am barren. Unable to carry to term. Childless. Infertile. A broken copy machine.
He says he might have been able to live with that, if I had compensated by showing more interest in having the kind of home life he wanted to have. He's never been able to define what that home life is-- he's only been able to say it wasn't any of the things I did.
The woman he met in a bar stopped sleeping with him ten weeks after he left me, so he came back and wanted to try therapy together. During our therapy try, he went to a dating site where he met and wooed Wendy the Wine Girl. I ended the therapy after I found out about her. I still have no idea why he bothered with the therapy.
Our marriage had been largely sexless for a year before he left-- his choice. He told me the stillbirth had ripped me up too much for him to take sexual pleasure from me anymore. He reminded me repeatedly I was never his type.
When I ended the therapy, the therapist sent me an apology letter for being part of the deception unknowingly. Jan complained bitterly I was setting unreasonable demands, and if I could show I could be the woman he wanted, then there would be no Wendy the Wine Girl.
He believes deeply that I deserve everything he's done. He has no pity or remorse.
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