Much Ado About Nothing

My husband is in my office right now, killing time before he goes to the airport to catch a flight back home. His interviews went well, and he is cautiously optimistic that the days of our distance relationship are numbered. Part of me hopes he's right, but I'd be lying if I said I won't miss the "absence makes the heart grow fonder" spark that the miles have rekindled.

I remember what it felt like to look for a job in a new city, and how disorienting it is to start over without a network to fall back on. When I was job hunting in the small town, my husband's affair was at its most intense. After a slow start -- it took him a few weeks after the first time to decide whether he wanted a one-night stand or a full-blown affair -- he went off and left me in the dust.

About this time two years ago, in between holiday parties, I polished my resume and cold-called my way into a bunch of informational interviews. As I was getting a sense of the local job market, my husband started spending a lot more time with the other woman. She was always around, he said, because his business was about to open, and she -- as his first hire -- was a key part of the team. As far as I can tell, she didn't do anything constructive, unless you count chasing my husband around the water cooler. Her first project -- drafting the company policies and procedures manual -- was so poorly written that he had to throw it out and start from scratch. She was equally clueless about ordering supplies and organizing the work space. He told me that even though he had to re-do all her work, it was worth it to help her make the leap from customer service into management.

As I started spending more time in the small town, making follow up phone calls and going to real interviews, my husband's business had its grand opening. He was so consumed with work that he never had time to help me strategize or even to debrief me after each meeting. He was distracted, irritable, and stressed all the time. I chalked his foul moods up to opening night jitters, without ever considering that they might have had something to do with the pressure TOW was putting on him to step up their affair.

She almost won. When it looked like one of the places I interviewed was going to make an offer, he went so far as to tell me that I shoudn't plan on living with him if I accepted. I told him if that's what he wanted, well, then I already had my own place in the big city. "I'm not going to move here just to date you," I said. When he realized I was serious, he blinked. The other woman was not happy.

Ah, but my husband got even with her for adding complications: he had a series of one-night stands with women he chose specifically because they pissed her off. One was her nemesis from their old office. One was a vendor who was helping them set up the new office. One was the down-the-hall neighbor in his building. Hell, one was even the stalker who was hounding him when we first started dating. Unlike me, he didn't care if TOW found out. In fact, from what I gather, he delighted in telling her the details because it made her more eager to please.

The one night stands stopped about the time I started my job -- I'm guessing it got too hard to juggle a live-in fiancee, an at-work mistress, and a series of lovers without getting caught. The affair continued, however, all during our bachelor pad days, through the househunting woes, and trailed off while I was doing my summertime traveling road show. It kills me to read my journals from those six months because it was one long lament about how I couldn't believe that -- despite living with this man who said he loved me -- I never felt more alone in my whole life. I thought I was crazy.

So yeah, I have a pretty good idea what he's going through, and am doing what I can to make it easier for him. In the end, when he's wondering what all the fuss was about, I'll just nod my head in agreement and secretly wish that I could have wondered the same thing two years ago.


The Wife Who Knows