Unfaithfully yours: a wife's tale - story of an unfaithful wife

I have grappled with the subject of infidelity - or, rather, its opposite, fidelity - since I was a little girl. The idea of being faithful to someone for an indefinite period of time held a fascination for me then, and now, as an adult, I still read everything I can on the subject.

I've read scientific articles that compare human sexual habits to those of primates, articles that seem to imply that animals - humans included - aren't naturally monogamous. I've read ridiculous articles in women's magazines that liken infidelity to wearing stilettos, while marriages are more like favorite, comfortable shoes. And, of course, I have read testimony warning of the irreversible damage affairs inflict upon the sanctified union.

I remember the first time I really gave the subject much thought. I was 10 years old and talking with a friend of mine whose parents were in the middle of a divorce because the father had run off with another woman. My friend, a boy one year younger than I was, would be forever changed by the incident.

"I would never be unfaithful in marriage," I remember him saying as we sat on his bed playing cards. It was a statement that didn't reflect any anger on his part, nor any of the emotional turmoil he must have been experiencing at the time. Rather, he just knew he would never do it. Period, I remember he asked me the same question. Only I couldn't deliver the same answer. How could anyone be so sure? I wondered. Isn't it unfairly demanding to think that on y one person could fulfill every part of our complex personalities and intellects? Never mind the very nature of infidelity - the stuff of movies and books, the passion, the larger-than-life excitement, the mystery and intrigue, the bittersweet conflict, forbidden pleasures, and unrequited love - wasn't there something so exquisitely and painfully delicious about it?

Oh, yes. I knew then that I was quite capable of being unfaithful in a marriage. I realized too, with horror, that if I was capable of being unfaithful, then I might one day have to face its consequences. Only I couldn't know then how very bitter those consequences could be.

Flash forward 15 years to the day of my wedding. Here was a man I could spend my life with. We had the same lifestyle in mind, we got along fabulously, and we talked like girlfriends. And we loved each other. I remember looking at my husband that day and thinking how extraordinary it was for him to make such a commitment. I was supremely moved. It didn't really occur to me that I was making the same vow. It didn't feel like a sacrifice.

The subject of being faithful cropped up between my husband and me early in our marriage. We'd banter back and forth in philosophical discussions over dinners. My husband, like my childhood friend, would tell me that he could never cheat, and that if I ever did, he didn't know how we could survive together. He wasn't threatening or scaring me. Besides, I had no intention of cheating. I knew that if I did, I would be the one cheated out of one of the loveliest times of my life. I loved my husband very much.

I did not foresee that very tough times were looming ahead. Our now-barely-four-year-old marriage has been riddied with the stresses and the day-to-dayness of life. Part of the problem was that my husband and I immediately quit our stable jobs after our wedding and moved 3,000 miles away to begin a new life. It was exhilarating at first, but it eventually proved to be hard on us. Probably too hard: After the move, it took a long while for us to get on our feet again financially. And we took out the stress on the only people we had: each other. Resentment was building up between us, and the fights became frequent and brutal. Often we said hurtful things to each other, went to bed angry and woke up exhausted. The sex suffered. After several years of this, I wanted - needed - an escape.

My job takes me to many parties and events. I frequently meet men and generally have an easy rapport with them. I had already rebuffed several advances. But I was wearing down, and I soon found the escape I was looking for.

I met a lovely man - kind, handsome and several years older than me. He also seemed to represent every kind of stability I felt was missing in my marriage. He made me feel beautiful and safe. I developed deep feelings for him. For the first time, I wanted to be with someone other than my husband.

I remember my first liaison with my lover. It was an exciting, dizzying, forbidden and scary experience. I was truly overwhelmed because I had crossed a definite line. I remember I cried - not just because of the guilt, but because I felt the pain of severing my marital ties with my husband. I was torn away both physically and mentally. I tucked the whole thing away someplace in a corner of my consciousness. What my husband didn't know couldn't hurt him, I reasoned. And I would gladly take it to the grave.

Then my worst nightmare came true. My alibi unintentionally called our house and gave me away.