It All Crashed Down

It was a Sunday afternoon. I was sitting in my living room scrolling Twitter for college sports news. Our son was playing on the floor, while my wife nursed our newborn baby in a big chair in the corner. Then my phone buzzed in my hand with a text.

Hey, you probably already know this but your name is on that list… figured you’d want to know.

It was from my sister. What list?? I replied, legitimately confused.

The Ashley Madison list, that website for affairs. Crazy.

That was it. One minute all my lies were safely hidden—double-life fully intact. The next minute I was exposed. My worst nightmare become reality.

I called my sister right away to get more information, insisting that obviously I wasn’t on that website so there must be some explanation. Then, thoroughly rattled, I went inside to explain the situation to G. My identity must have been stolen. Frustrating and embarrassing, but I’m sure the situation will get cleared up. I’ll let her tell her side of the story, but outwardly she seemed to believe me. She wanted to believe me. And, for the rest of that day we robotically went through the motions of our domestic life as if everything was fine, minds elsewhere on the dark reality that seemed to be lapping at our door.

The next morning, I prayed with G. that her anxiety (which she admitted was bubbling) would subside and that God would be with us. I still shudder to look back on that moment. The manipulation. The darkness of that level of deceit. I intentionally did not pray for the truth to be revealed.

When I got to my office, I closed my door and set about gathering as much information about the situation as I could. I was a fish thrashing back and forth, trying to find a way off the hook. Still, I believed my façade was convincing enough that if I swore up and down people might believe me over some list on the internet. No matter what, I knew I couldn’t just sit around. I had to do something. So, I texted a friend/co-worker/mentor and asked if he could talk. Unbeknownst to me, he was in the office next door discussing how to handle this situation too, so he was in my office before I had a chance to really gather my thoughts.

I wish I could say that I bravely stepped into the light. That is not what happened. Instead, before I knew what was happening I was telling him the truth—or part of it. And I kept coming back to the same place: What do I do? What the HELL can I do? How can I possibly tell G.?

We both agreed that I should go see one of our pastors, who is also a counselor. He and I talked, and I confessed that same version of half-truth to him. At this point, there was no avoiding the fact that I had to tell G. He rode with me to the house. I called ahead to tell her that I was on my way and that I had something I needed to talk to her about. At that point she knew. I cannot imagine what those minutes were like, watching our son toddle around the house and our daughter sleep… waiting for me to arrive.

Then, at the house, I sat on our couch and told G. that I was in fact on the Ashley Madison list. That there was no stolen identity. That for the entire time of our marriage I had been using pornography and I could not stop. And I told her on one or two occasions I had had sex with other women while on work trips. This was a lie, and I knew it at the time. I just didn’t think the number or the details were particularly important.

After she wept and asked me a barrage of questions, she turned to our pastor and asked the same question I had earlier that morning: what the hell am I supposed to do now?

That afternoon, I helped her pack the car full of clothes and toys and anything else she and the kids might need. I hugged my son. I kissed my newborn baby girl. And then I watched them back out of the driveway and leave, headed to stay with family in another state. I had no idea when (or even if) I would see them again.

I was exposed. Humiliated. Alone. Lost. . . .